Avengers: Generations

by imaAvenger

The Avengers fought and won the battle for peace. HYDRA and A.I.M. fell. The world moved on, and so did the team. Peace entered the world and normality entered their lives as they began to go their separate ways. Now 2042, the Avengers' children are faced with returning evil. Their lives have been woven together by a force known only as Destiny.

9. Chapter 8: The Struggle Is Real

A/N: Hi everybody! I'm not going to give my usual spiel about how sorry I am for taking so long, because, well, that's just too much extra word count. I say that because this will be a longer chapter and it's longer because of how much story it covers. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I think it's safe to say that WE'RE PAST INTRODUCTIONS! Yay! This chapter will focus on the reunion of our trio, Antonio, Kassidy and James! I've been told by my wonderful friend/beta/proofer Megan, that they're all awkward cinnamon rolls that need to get it together. She's right. But I'll let you, the glorious reader, decide for yourself. And thank you to SilverPedals for getting my commas under control! YOU RULE.

Disclaimer: These characters and all their awkwardness belong to me, however, their parents and Marvel locations belong to Marvel. RIP Mrs. Lee.

Chapter 8: The Struggle Is Real

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Grandperch Living, Apt. 412, Midtown, New York. Saturday, September 13th, 2042. 11:37 am.

Kassidy is jolted from sleep by her holo-phone blaring that incredibly annoying disco tune she keeps forgetting to change. She sits up in her bed, darting her head around the bedroom in search of the device. When the phone is nowhere in sight, she throws her comforter across her bed in hopes it got lost under the thick blanket during the night. But the phone doesn't appear to be in the bed, and with every passing moment in search, the ringtone gets louder.

"Well, dang it! Where are you?" she yells. Kassidy jumps out of bed and takes to rooting through the mountain of clothes piled up on the chair in the corner. She sticks her hands in every pocket she comes across but to no avail. The Archer growls angrily, propping her hands on her hips as the phone continues to grind on her nerves. She mentally runs down a list of all the places it might've ended up, but no immediate epiphany springs to mind.

Last night, she thinks, attempting to clear away the fog in her brain to remember what she did when she came in. Yesterday was sort of a blur—extra classes back to back at the REC center, then patrolling till the break of dawn. Not that it wasn't time well spent, no. She much enjoyed seeing her students' progress in their training, and patrolling was certainly exciting when she ran into a friend—or rather, a friend ran into her. The memory of Mr. Marvel flying right into her and almost knocking her off the rooftop she was perched on forces her to laugh. He isn't the most graceful vigilante she's ever encountered, considering how green he is—no pun intended. But she had to hand it to him, his smart approach, flexibility and refreshing outlook make him a great hero.

Not to mention his personality, she silently adds, smirking. Her misplaced phone still ringing drags her from her thoughts.

"Sheesh! I get it!" she exclaims. Kassidy continues her search and visually sweeps the room, but realizes that the only way she'll be able to find her phone is if she retraces her steps. She walks over to her bedroom doorway, stepping over the clothes she pulled off last night and left on the floor.

"Okay," she starts, "when I came in, I dropped my gear in the living room. Then I grabbed my PJ's off the chair, and changed." The blonde looks around at the athletic clothes she tore off last night, thinking her phone might be in her hoodie pocket. She kneels to the floor and picks up the gray-striped jacket she left strewn on the floor. Rooting her hands through the front pocket, Kassidy pulls out some rope, her goggles, an extra arrow head, but no phone. She huffs, that pestering tune still ringing loudly.

I must be close, she thinks. Because if I'm not, I'm going to scream. Still knelt on the carpet, her aqua eyes scan the remaining clothing articles heaped on the floor, but they stop on her shoes. The gray canvas slip-ons sit side by side, next to the corner of the bed frame. As Kassidy looks in closer, she realizes one of them is vibrating and glowing purple. How did I miss that? She grabs the shoe and finds her holo-phone hiding in the toe, collapsed and ringing that awful sound.

Kassidy rolls her eyes at herself. "Congratulations, Barton. You've successfully earned the title, Scatter-Brained." She presses the diamond-shaped center button, and the phone extends, the tone ceasing at last. Now, what was all the ruckus about? The alert bubble on her holo-screen is an alarm, and she suddenly remembers why she chose that ringtone for it. The alarm was a reminder about tonight.

"Dinner with the guys!" she groans, covering her eyes with her palm.

Dinner may be a whole afternoon from now, but the impending doom weighing on her chest is present now. A few days ago, Kassidy couldn't contain her excitement over James' return. Now, after spending the last three days thinking about him, she dreads it. No matter what it was, or how minor the situation, James could always tell when something was off with her. And now, with both James and Antonio available to get on her case…

She shakes her head, rattling her thoughts. "No. This is a happy occasion. James is home! Remember how much you've missed him." But no amount of barking orders at herself will tear away her thoughts of doubt.

Kassidy realizes she's still sitting on the floor, so she gets up, throws her phone on the bed, and strolls into the living room. She ends up in her narrow kitchen across the room. The beige floor tiles chill her bare feet as she walks over to the white refrigerator. She yanks the handle on the appliance's bottom half, but when the door is fully pulled back she finds several shelves of nothing. Nothing but a lone bottle of out of date ketchup, a brown banana, and empty space where take-out containers once were.

Kassidy wrinkles her nose, but her now growling stomach reminds her she needs to eat something. Just…not the banana. "Looks like it's dry cereal for me." That is, assuming I have cereal, she adds mentally. She steps to the left of the fridge and rises on her tip-toes, reaching for the overhead cabinet door. The oak-wood door opens and Kassidy's heart soars when she sees one box of Frosty Flakers—the pink lion mascot grinning happily on the box's front.

"Score!" she says. She snatches the box down and walks back into the living room, grabbing a water bottle from the case on the counter. She crams a handful of the sugar-coated corn flakes in her mouth and plops down on the leather futon butted against the bar behind it. She sits for a while, the only sound in the room is her crunching on cereal. After consuming about half the bag, she closes the box and stares at the T.V. across from her, the screen void of light. A chuckle sticks in her throat as she's reminded of how little she uses it, or any other electronic in her home. Heck, I don't even think I have cable hooked up anymore.

But as she stares into the blackness, the screen consumes her thoughts and attention. The longer she gazes at it, the more it reminds her of how dark her own life has become. Kassidy remembers when she and Antonio first hooked up that T.V. after an entire day of lugging boxes into her then new apartment. Plugging in the television was a reward after working all day and the finishing touch to make it homey. She remembers how insistent Antonio was on watching some show he was obsessed with at the time—and they did. All night.

The memory brings a fleeting smile. She misses those days. The days before things became so complicated that she cut herself off from the outside world. Before Antonio left for college. Before her mom felt so far away. If there was one thing Kassidy wishes she could do, she'd mend the bonds torn by time and heartache. The bond between her and Bobbie that was pushed apart when Clint died.

The girl runs a hand through her messy golden hair as she thinks. After mulling it over a few minutes, she decides to grab her phone from her bedroom. She's going to call her. She needs to call her. She needs to talk to someone right now, and more than anything she wants to hear her mother's voice. Kassidy walks back to her room and finds her phone and calls her mom.

After a few dial tones, Bobbie's voice mail invites her to leave a message. She sighs in disappointment as the automated voice gives its spiel, "leave a message after the beep," and all that. The beep sounds and it's Kassidy's cue, but she's not sure exactly what to say...she's not sure if she had planned to say anything at all.

"Hi, Mom, it's Kassy. I just wanted to call and...talk I guess. But you're busy so I won't stay long. I—" she pauses, her voice hitching in her throat. "I'm just tired of being lonely. I want my friends back but there's something keeping us from being close, and I just...I just need to know if I should tell them the truth. I need your help because I don't know what to do."

Kassidy, now on the brink of tears, breathes in sharply, unsure of what else to add. "I miss you. I miss dad. I know things can't be how they were, but sometimes I just wish...Anyway. Any advice you can give me would be great."

The automated voice returns after an ending beep and tells her that if she's satisfied with her message, she can hang up. If not, she can press one. Kassidy moves the phone away from her face and presses the number one button.

"Recording deleted, at the tone, please record your new message."

Kassidy sighs and waits for the tone to beep. "Hey, Mom. Call me back when you get this. I can't wait for you to come visit next week. Love you." She hangs up this time, feeling worse than before but knowing deep down she can't do this alone anymore. She can't deal with the solitude of being surrounded by her own walls. Maybe dinner wasn't such a good idea, she thinks, insisting that she won't feel better later. But she knows it's just another excuse to stay distant from her friends, and tonight…tonight is going to be different. No more hiding. No more running. Tonight, she hits this head on.

"Dinner," she whispers, resolve strengthening her tone. "I'm coming for you."

Rogers' House, Brooklyn. 12:09 pm.

James grabs his navy duffle off his dresser and slings it onto his bed, unzipping it. After almost a week back home, he has yet to unpack his bag, but today he's finally forcing himself to do so, much to his displeasure. He begins to unload the contents, carefully placing each item of clothing or file in an orderly stack on his bed: Several sets of combat uniforms, a thick blanket rolled up with a small pillow, a black portfolio with a pen, a holo-camera, a notebook, a few souvenirs, some civilian clothes and a dirty, half-torn cloth doll.

James holds the child's toy in his hands, staring into its brown button eyes as he caresses the doll's yarn hair. He sighs heavily and the little girl who gave it to him consumes his thoughts. He hadn't thought about her since he left the Zhai Lu pass over a year ago. And if he were honest with himself, he'd admit he tries not to. But he gives the doll a home in his room anyway, and sits her down on a tall bookshelf in the corner, next to a trophy of academic excellence he thought he'd boxed away four years ago.

He moves on and refocuses on the items spread out on his bed, looking at them, then looking around to figure out where to put them. In the middle of his mental layout, his stomach starts to grumble. James neglected breakfast this morning and considering he's been up since five, he's surprised it's taken him this long to become hungry.

"Lunch it is," he says to himself, exiting his room.

A short walk down the hallway and through the living room finds him in the kitchen, but only after he passes over that squeaking board and cringes. "I have to fix that stupid board," he mumbles.

James reaches the fridge and pulls on its handle, staring blankly at the full shelves with no idea what he wants to eat. He pushes and moves bottles of sauce and jars of olives in search of the perfect snack, but as he begins to convince himself to head to the cabinets, his heightened sense of smell catches a whiff of something. He inhales deeply, lifting his head from inside the fridge. He looks around at the counters, his dark blue eyes darting around to find where the aroma is coming from. Then he sees it, the most perfect Italian sandwich he's seen in years sitting on a plate, wrapped in paper with the orange and white logo of James' favorite food truck on it.

"That place is still in business?" He raises his brow, then looks around the kitchen. He approaches the sandwich and notices a bright green sticky note stuck to the table by the plate.

'Went to Wes' truck at the park earlier, picked you up some lunch. I'm in the attic. Love, Mom.'

"Wait, the attic?"

James grabs his sandwich and walks out of the kitchen, down the hallway, past his room. He stops in the doorway of the laundry room by the back door, and finds the attic door open, the metal ladder hanging down. He takes a bite of his sub and then proceeds up the ladder. As soon as his head gets past the ceiling, Natasha comes into full view—slumped over a box with her hair pulled back, and dust all over her green and black active wear.

"Hey, Mom," James says, now fully in the attic.

"Oh, hey! I see you got my note, and your sandwich," Natasha says. She grins at him and he can't help but smirk and shake his head. Sometimes she can be so weird, but her unpredictability makes her enjoyable to be around. He's missed that.

"Thanks for the Wes' sub. I really missed these." He takes another bite and watches her dig around in a box for a while before asking what she's doing. When he finally does, his mother's expression flashes pure excitement.

"You know what, I'm glad you asked. I'm looking for something special," she says, inviting him to inquire further.

There's a pause while he finishes his sandwich, then accepts that he'll have to interrogate her. "Well, what exactly are you looking for?"

She smirks and arches her brows, prompting James to sigh. He crumples up the sandwich wrapper and slides it in his jeans pocket, then squats down beside her. "If you must know, I'm looking for something of your father's."

"Do you need help?"

"Yes, actually, I do," she says. Natasha stands from her bent position and wipes her hands on her pants. "I'm looking for one of Steve's boxes, specifically one from either his war stuff or his Avenger mementoes."

James tilts his head in curiosity and rises to his feet. "What of Dad's are you looking for?" But after the question leaves his lips, Nat gives him another one of her smirks, and he decides just to help her find it…whatever it is.

The two begin combing the attic in search of boxes marked with Steve's name. James remembers when he was little, and Natasha and Gabriel packed Steve's things away in boxes for storage. They donated items they knew he would want to be donated and packed away the things they knew he would've wanted either James or Gabe to have one day. Natasha waited a year before even dared touching any of Steve's things after the accident. James never thought of his mom as sentimental in any way, but after the accident, there were a lot of things she did that wasn't her.

James parts the mist of memories and lands on an unmarked, cardboard box shoved in the corner. Wondering what's inside, he yanks on the crisscrossed flaps and pulls it open. The box is full of old toys and children's clothes, clothes James thought his mother donated when he and Gabe out grew them. He digs further in the box and finds an old, baby-blue teddy bear. The bear is missing a button eye, and one of its arms is torn with stuffing falling out, but the sight brings a smile to James' face nonetheless.

"Hey Mom, look what I found." James holds the toy up for Natasha to see.

Nat smiles at the bear James was never without as a child. "Wow, isn't that the one you used to carry everywhere?" She starts to laugh at its sad appearance and comes to stand next to James. "It's seen better days."

James grasps it firmly in his hands, reliving the days of his childhood. "I tried taking it in the tub with me one night."

"And you insisted I wash you both. Steve stood in the doorway and laughed while tried to convince you to let me have it, but you didn't let go. That was also when the split on its arm became a huge tear and I had to sew it up," she says, rubbing a hand on James' back.

"I was so upset when you took it from me. Didn't it used to have a little spangled bowtie with it once?" James asks.

"I think so, but there's no telling where that is," she answers. Natasha pats James on the back before returning to the box she was searching through on the other side of the attic. But the young man stares at the bear a moment longer, examining its every feature, a different memory coming back with each glance. But one memory plays in the forefront of his mind, one he's having a hard time moving past.

"I remember playing in the backyard with this thing and Gabe the day of Dad's accident."

The statement hangs in the air, and Natasha tenses up. "I don't remember that." Her tone cuts dry and harsh, and James can tell she wants to change the subject, but not this time.

"Why don't you ever want to talk about it?" he asks.

She keeps her peridot eyes trained on the contents of the box she's rummaging through. "Talk about what?"

James shakes his head, gently laying the bear back in its box. "Dad's accident. You never talk about it."

"Well maybe I don't want to talk about it—" she starts.

"Maybe I do, Mom. I don't remember a lot from that day. All I can seem to remember is playing outside in the snow with Gabe, then the next thing I know Nick Fury shows up and Gabe dragged me inside," he recalls. His blueberry eyes sift through the memories and thoughts and feelings surrounding that day, not sure what to make of any of it. But Natasha remains silent, her hands gripping the sides of a cardboard box for support. Her eyes are distant and her expression hollow, but James prods her further. "Tell me what happened that day."

Natasha sighs and blinks away her reluctance, kneeling beside the box. "I was inside making the two of you lunch while you were playing outside. I had been watching the news for a little while, but I wasn't really paying attention. All I could think about was Steve. He was so close to retirement when he was called in..." Natasha pauses, her eyes deep in the past. "After I finished your lunch, I heard something on the news that interested me, so I walked into the living room. I remember looking out the window at the two of you when I heard Gabe call out to me."

"Fury had walked up to the gate, and we weren't sure if we were supposed to let him in," James adds.

Natasha nods. "I ran outside and found you two standing there, staring at him..." Her words hang in her throat. James notices her eyes begin to glaze over like she's trying to separate herself from whatever she's feeling. "As soon as I looked him in his eye, I knew. Gabe took you inside and closed the door behind you...I'm glad he did. I didn't want either of you to see me. I've seen people die in front of me, good men. Good agents. I've even been the one to give the 'I'm sorry but they didn't make it,' speech. But it was me receiving the speech that time. I was on the other side, and I hated it."

James furrows his brow, recalling the men he lost in China, and how gut-wrenching the guilt and pain of losing them was. But he can't imagine what his mother went through. She'd lived a life of live or die, of sometimes they don't make it, and it was all for the greater good. But losing Steve was worse than all the loss accumulated in her life, and she didn't have to tell James for him to know that.

"Fury explained to me that Steve's plane hit a blizzard unexpectedly, and it crashed in the Swiss Alps. It exploded on impact. The funny thing was S.H.I.E.L.D. had been calling me all morning, but the landline wasn't working and I had my phone on silent." Natasha chuckles weakly, and for the first time since the conversation began, they lock eyes. Looking at her, it's as if James understands what she's thinking, the pain of remembering, the distress of talking about it.

James stands, and without warning to his mother, kneels before her and embraces her. His arms wrap around Natasha, and hers slips around his back, taking in her son's compassionate gesture. The moment envelops the two as the room stills to a calming quiet. No words need to be said, no affirmations or expressions of the heart given. This hug in this moment is enough for the two of them.

James wondered if Gabe had ever given her a hug like this, one without a motive other than compassion. Gabriel was always supposed to be the strong one, the first born everyone thought would become something someday. But when it came to talking about their father, the mere mention of Steve's name sent him running. He never talked about him when he was still home, it was like he was in denial, like he refused to admit that their father was gone. But James knew better, and that's why James made a point to always be there for his mother, even if Gabe wouldn't.

Natasha loosens her arms and they part. James offers a comforting smile with a hand still on her shoulder, gently rubbing it. Natasha breathes in deep, blinking away the mist in her bright green eyes, and the two go back to searching the attic. James gets halfway into digging through the next box when he hears the landline ring loudly, the sound echoing down the hall and through the laundry room below them. Natasha arches her brow and they both head down the ladder into the living room. The red wall phone that Steve insisted on having hangs on a small section of wall on the other side of the front door, vibrating as it rings.

"Hello?" Natasha answers. She looks almost shocked that someone called on the house phone, and it forces James to wonder how often she gets calls anymore. She casts her eyes towards him as if he came up in conversation. "Yes, he's here."

James' blueberry eyes widen and he mouths 'who is it.' She hands him the phone for him to find out. He takes the phone in hand, holding it up to his ear. "This is James."

"Hello Captain Rogers, my name is Doctor Cassandra Lang, I head up S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Agent Relations department as lead Psychological Analyst," comes a chipper yet nasally voice. Oh no, here we go, James thinks. "I'm calling firstly to apologize for having to cancel our first meeting, I came down with a nasty cold and have been out for several days. But secondly, it was noted in your file that you didn't meet with your Guard recruiter during that time, or sign off on your service papers."

There's a pause as James contemplates what excuse to give for never seeing his recruiter, Colonel Phillips. "I didn't. I've been a little busy since I got home." He catches a glimpse of his mother rolling her eyes.

"I understand that, and for your convenience, I took the liberty of having those papers sent over to my office with your recruiter's signature on them. So, all you have to do when you come for your evaluation is sign them and you'll be accepted into reserve duty," she says.

"Reserve duty. Right," he replies.

"Right," she echoes. "So, once your evaluation has concluded I'll determine whether your fit for immediate reserve, which just means that you'll be the first contacted when reserve Agents are needed, or you'll fall into the limited duty category, where we'll basically leave you alone for the next two years. After that, you'll be signed off on, and labeled a civilian. Does that make sense?"

James nods, then remembers he's on the phone…and she can't see him. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good!" she says happily. "Then I have you scheduled for Monday morning at ten o'clock. Will that be doable?"

James thinks for a moment. He'd rather be left alone, be done with S.H.I.E.L.D. completely, but for him to be done with them, he has lots of paperwork to sign his name on. Not to mention he needs to do well on his evaluation, or not well? Whatever he must do to become a civilian, he's willing to do it. "That's fine."

Doctor Lang gives him an address and a parting assurance it'll be an easy meeting, then hangs up. James hands the phone back to Natasha, who's been smirking at him since the conversation began. She hangs the phone back on the wall then proceeds to look him in the eyes and say; "I told you to go Wednesday regardless of whether your evaluation was postponed or not."

"Mom, can we not?"

"Okay," she holds her hands up defensively. "We won't. But you are going Monday even if I have to drag you there myself."

Stark Tower, Midtown. 12:46 pm.

Antonio finds himself dumbstruck whilst attempting to make a college intern understand the concept of professional courtesy.

"You can't just take someone's high powered hand-welder without asking, then make them search all over the tower before you tell them you had it!" he says. The vacant expression of the intern at fault reaches under the young Stark's skin. When Antonio asked Tony for a "real position" at work, keeping the interns out of trouble wasn't exactly what he meant.

"I'm sorry Mr. Stark, I'll give it back immediately if that's what you want," says the young man.

Antonio sighs and nods. "Please do."

The intern turns around and walks away, searching for the worktable he took the welder from. Antonio shakes his head and grips the bridge of his nose, a throbbing headache coming on. He'll never understand why his dad decided watching after the interns was the perfect job for him. He's barely out of college himself, but he supposes that's why his dad chose him. He can relate to the newness of their situation. But Antonio wanted a position a little more substantial than "errand boy-babysitter." It's like he doesn't take me seriously because I'm his son, he thinks. Or maybe he takes me too seriously? How ever he takes me, I deserve better than this.

Antonio looks down at the smartwatch wrapped around his left wrist and touches the screen, pulling up a holographic version of his to-do list. And what a list it is. Tony didn't spare him a moment this afternoon, everything from relaying messages, to recalibrating the force field surrounding the Arc reactor in the basement, to re-modulating the interference frequencies on the StarkNet satellites.

He sighs. "He does realize I have a dinner to get to tonight, right?" And a degree in engineering going unused, he mentally adds.

Antonio walks down a long hallway, away from the sounds of working engineers behind him as he heads for the elevator. If he were honest with his dad, he'd have asked for a job with his fellow engineers, working the day away tweaking and building and designing. You know, doing what he went to school for. But when he approached his dad after his little break-in incident last Saturday, Antonio was informed until can earn seniority, or until a real position opens, he'll be the official Intern Coordinator. Or, in unofficial terms, the babysitter. Five months of running around Stark Tower like a crazy person for dad and this is the reward I get...

Now in the elevator, he rubs at the knots on his stiff neck. Another night of working on his suit kept him awake until two or three a.m., in which his time was spent ironing out the kinks in his onboard software. When Antonio started designing and engineering his suit of armor, he had intended for Jarvis to be his on-board computer. But then he started messing around with an idea for a new A.I. program he thinks will be worth the added work. Now, I just gotta come up with a decent name for her, he adds.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open to the 43rd level, real-estate, and land development. Stark Tower may seem like a maze from the outside and may be to some on the inside, but to the kid who grew up in the building, you're only a few button-clicks from where you need to be. And where he needs to be is wherever his mother is right now. Sometimes, searching for one Pepper in a 93-story building can be a daunting task, but she does seem to pop up when Antonio needs her. Except for two days ago when I needed her to back me up when I asked dad for a position.

The young man combs his fingers upward through his spiky black hair as he walks, looking around the various offices for his mom. The open office floor has desks sprawled from end to end, busy feet shuffling all over the pale gray carpet. As he passes different employee's desks, his nose catches on different scents, food, air fresheners, and various colognes—enough to make him want to sneeze. Then, in the distance, he spots her. Standing with several other people who all seem to talk at once, Pepper hands out sheets of paper to her companions, pointing them in different directions as she returns to her desk in a glass-enclosed room. The people walk out of her office door as Antonio squeezes in, raising a brow at his mother.

"Hey Mom, wha—"

"Oh good, I'm glad you're here. What did your father say?" Pepper interrupts without even lifting her head.

"You knew I was coming with a message from Dad?" he asks, slightly confused.

"Sweetie, I know everything that goes on in this building. So, yes, I was expecting you," she answers with a knowing grin.

Antonio nods. "Fair enough. Dad's message is yes. You can go ahead. I recited it word for word, now is someone going to tell me what the heck is going on? Why is the real-estate department in such an upheaval?"

Pepper cuts her eyes at him, still grinning while he stands clueless. "It's just something we're working on with your sister."

"Ohhh, so what's Maria up to then?" he asks, leaning a hand on her desk.

"I can't divulge much because I don't know enough to divulge, but she said it'll be revolutionary."

Antonio glances down at the papers neatly stacked on the desk in front of her. His electric eyes scan the pages and he smirks when he reads the fine print. "What does Maria's revolutionary project have to do with property in the Salt Flats in Death Valley?"

"There's no secret keeping in this family, is there?" Pepper taps her finger impatiently at her son as he smiles at her, waiting for an explanation. She sighs exasperatedly. "Maria's project requires testing grounds, and we were planning to pick up some property there anyway."

"Oh, I see..." Antonio purses his lips, trying hard not to burst with a million questions. Pepper just rolls her eyes and begins scribbling on some of the papers spread across her desk. After a moment of writing signatures, she looks up to her son who's still standing at her desk.

"If that's all your father had to say?" she says, prompting him to leave.

"Oh, right. Sorry. I'm going now," Antonio says as he inches out the door. "Bye."

Now outside her office, Antonio takes in all the people scrambling around their office spaces and wonders what could be next on his to-do list. With a tap and a swipe, the list materializes in the air. He scrolls down until his electric eyes find the next item on the list, but when they do, he groans inwardly. I guess I'm off to the reactor, then, he tells himself.

Antonio finds his way to the elevator that brought him here, and pushes a floor button that plummets him to the basement. If there's one job Antonio hates doing more than anything, it's fine-tuning the Arc Reactor that powers the entire building. He can't begin to count all the times he's burned his hands, arms, etcetera on the superheated metal rails surrounding the reactor. He remembers one time when he was down there with Tony as a kid, he was running circles around the catwalk when he tripped forward. Naturally, his initial reaction was to move his hands in front of him to break his fall, but before Tony knew what was happening, Antonio had burned his palms on the metal, the grate burning a pattern on his small hands. The memory forces the young man to rub his palms, his brain convincing him the marks are still there.

The elevator alerts Antonio he's reached the basement, and as soon as the doors open, a burst of hot air hits him. Immediately, beads of sweat begin to run down his forehead, and he unbuttons the top of his blue shirt, yanking at the collar of the white t-shirt underneath.

"Go ahead and fix the Reactor, Howie, will ya? It'll be easy," Antonio says in a mocking tone. "It's not like you have anything better to do, right?"

Antonio wipes his forehead and continues, climbing the steps of the catwalk to the main terminal centered at the top. Ironically, the screen is cool to the touch, and Antonio begins tapping away adjusting the settings, anger speeding up his fingers. His taps modulate the power flow input and aligns the energy output to match. He taps a little longer, wiping sweat from time to time. He keeps reminding himself that the sooner he gets finished, the sooner he can go home, change and actually enjoy himself with his friends. Dinner approaches fast, and the more he thinks about tonight and leaving for the day, the faster he works. The last task on his list is quickly completed and he gladly heads towards the exit, thinking about his dad with every step he takes.

He takes a few steps away from the console, his mind now considering ways to convince Tony to rethink his job placement. He gets a few steps down the catwalk when the grate beneath him shudders slightly. He steadies himself and waits. That can't be good. He looks back at the center console and tries to see if any if the onscreen gauges are redlining, but everything seems to stay still. Antonio shrugs it off and continues towards the elevator. Halfway down the catwalk, the whole room shakes and the heat from the reactor intensifies in a burst of bright light. Antonio stumbles to the side and grabs the railing for support, but he immediately regrets it. He pulls his hands back and shakes away the burn, then runs to the console at the top of the steps.

The screen is littered with alerts and messages warning of an overload. "What did I do?!" he questions.

It doesn't take him long to realizes that the input-output he just remodulated isn't properly aligned, which is causing too much energy to build up and no where for it to go. Antonio starts tapping and works to fix his mistake, hoping that the reactor takes its time overloading. He's close to the building-wide alarms triggering when he adjusts the power flow, and the dashboard on the console begins to level out, the flashing red alerts disappearing. The reactor core dims slightly and the basement drops ten degrees with it.

The room stills and Antonio sighs and slumps against the terminal. As if on cue, his watch lights up with a call from his father. Here we go.

"Hey—" Antonio gets out before Tony interrupts him.

"You'll never guess what just happened to me. I was on my way to my office with an armful of important, perfectly ordered documents when the floor beneath me shook violently, and you can imagine what happened to my papers," Tony says. "Anything you'd like to tell me, Howie?"

"Well…I may have accidentally, slightly misaligned the input-output relays," he says, his voice getting smaller with every word.

"Antonio Howard Stark!" Tony yells. "You do realize any sort of misalignment could result in an overload, or worse…a complete system meltdown?"

Tony continues to go on about how dangerous the reactor is while Antonio blows cool air on his burns. "I know, and I'm sorry. I was just...I was a little distracted, but I fixed it, so it's okay now!"

"Distracted is not an option around the Reactor, Antonio." His father sighs heavily on the other end of the call. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah dad, I'm fine. Just got a little burned, no big deal." But the throbbing quickness of his palms says otherwise.

"Listen, why don't you go on home, treat your burns and rest before your dinner. You're finished with your list for today anyway," Tony offers.

Antonio blinks hard, considering all the things he'd like to say his father at this point. "Are you sure dad? I mean, I wouldn't want you to have to run your own errands," he says, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

Even after his comment, Tony keeps a level tone. "No, you go home. I'll be fine."

Antonio smirks and starts towards the elevator, keeping his hands up and away from the rails beside him. "Okay, Dad. If you really want me to go."

"Just be ready for Monday morning and our meeting with the Banners," Tony says. Suddenly, Tony's voice changes like he's trying to pretend he's happy. "Have fun tonight, and tell James hello for me."

Antonio rolls his eyes. "Sure."

Corner of 1st and Collins Street, Midtown. 6:34 pm.

Kassidy crosses the corners of the twelfth block she's walked so far. Finding a taxi or a bus with an empty space early evening in New York City is almost impossible, finding one in Midtown is impossible. But trying to find one in Midtown early evening on a Saturday? As the stereotypical New Yorkian would say, "Fo'get aboutit." So, she walks. And continues to walk and hope that the dark clouds hanging over the city wait until she's found the restaurant before they drop the rain they hold.

Kassidy wonders as she passes by hordes of people if she dressed properly for the occasion. She hopes skinny jeans, an embroidered blouse and flats is fancy enough. Antonio never said how to dress, just to come. And oddly enough, she could come because she was off and didn't have ten million classes lined up today. But a momentary lapse of emotion almost kept her from coming. Almost. The promise of seeing James and possibly having a fun, normal night out with her guys was enough for her to get dressed. Not to mention all of Antonio's "reminder" texts. She's determined to enjoy herself tonight, and hopefully find some answers to an intriguing mystery later, considering her new friend doesn't forget their date.

The young woman walks a little while longer, bumping a few people as she takes her aqua eyes off the sidewalk to look beside her at the shops she passes. She'd forgotten all the neat stores and mom-and-pop restaurants that make up Midtown's East Side. Seeing the products—clothes and hats and fresh baked goods—in the windows makes her realizes how little she's been out lately.

Kassidy silently awes at the shops as she goes, making a mental shopping list for when she has free time...and money. It doesn't take her long to find the Thai restaurant Antonio insisted they meet at. Of course, this was a place the three of them liked to eat when they felt fancy, and memories of dinners past surface in her mind as she pushes through the front door. Strong scents of spices and grilled foods fill her airways as an older gentleman greets her with a smile.

"I'm meeting some friends. I'm pretty sure the reservation is under Stark?" she says.

"Of course, right this way." The man leads her past the bar and some booths to a table with three chairs in the middle of the dining floor. Antonio sits in one of the chairs, his face too buried in the menu in front of him to notice her arrival.

"Hi," she simply says.

Antonio hesitantly looks up as if the food choices are a novel, and grins when he sees her. "Kassy! You came!" He throws down his menu and drags out the chair to his left for her, one that gives her a view of the windows across from the table. "Please, sit down."

She sits and the waiter asks for her drink order. Oddly enough the place has lemonade now, and Kassidy wonders how good lemonade from a Thai themed eatery can be. The waiter disappears with her order and leaves her alone with Antonio, who hasn't stopped smiling since she sat down.

"So," he says, propping his hands on the table and leaning forward into the conversation. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I had the day off, so that was nice." Kassidy's smile starts to even out to a peach colored line on her face while Antonio nods.

"That must've been a nice break for you," he says.

She nods. "It was." And this has concluded the small talk for the evening.

Kassidy looks down at her hands folded in her lap, examining the silver ring on her right ring finger, and the pink and blue beaded bracelets hanging around her arm. She looks back up with the intent to ask Antonio how his day was when she notices a hue of blue on his palms and the way his hands are palm-up on the table's top.

"What happened to your hands?" she asks. The question catches the Stark slightly off guard.

"Oh, I-uh...I just burned them at work earlier. I was adjusting some things on the reactor, then one thing led to another and I grabbed some hot safety rails," he explains.

Kassidy nods and takes his hands in hers, scanning every inch of his injured palms. As soon as their skin touches, Antonio tenses up and a pale blush colors his cheeks. "I'll be gentle," she assures. "They don't look that bad."

"Yeah, I figured they weren't burned enough to wrap. But I did put enough of that blue cooling-aloe on them to treat third-degree burns," he chuckles. They smile at each other and both quickly pull their hands away.

Antonio glances down at the ivory table cloth, considering the extensive collection of questions he'd like to ask her. He sifts through the potentially awkward or unwanted conversation starters, and stays away from any comment that might buzz the mood, like asking advice about how to approach his dad about work. He weaves through trivial thoughts about the weather, her work, or life in general. Finally, he lands on a question he asked himself earlier, thinking it a good topic to discuss with Kassidy since nothing else was working.

"So, I've been working on a new project," he states.

Kassidy reacts with a tilted head, raising her brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I'm taking an idea my dad scrapped years ago for a new A.I. system. Kind of like Jarvis, but more like a Jarvis two-point-oh slash backup. She's turning out to be faster and more compatible with a greater spectrum of resources," he says, cleverly avoiding why he's creating a new A.I. That surprise will come when he finishes the armor.

"But isn't Jarvis updated, like, daily?" Kassidy asks.

Antonio thinks a moment. "Well…not daily. Weekly. But that's not the point. The point is this new A.I. will be in a whole other ball field, when she's finished, of course. The only trouble I've had is finding a decent name for her."

Kassidy makes a thoughtful "hm" and rests her chin in her palm, tapping the side of her face with her finger. "A girl A.I., huh? Well…what about Jeanie? Or maybe Josey?"

Her suggestions are met with consideration, contemplation, and dismissal. She tries a few more "J" names, but all of them seem to come up short of Antonio's taste. "Well, what about Jo? Or Jo-Jo? Or mix it up with something like Casey?"

Antonio laughs. "That sounds too much like your name."

Kassidy shrugs and gives up. "Then I have nothing else for you, other than suggesting you start combining names."

The young Stark furrows his brow, his electric eyes deep in thought. He tilts his head and stares ahead. Kassidy watches his moves, seeing her friend's thought process play out before her. After a minute or two of Antonio turning his head back and forth, and moving his gaze, he turns back to Kassidy with a goofy grin on his face. "Kassy, you're a genius."

"What did I say?"

"You just gave me the perfect idea for her name."

"I did?" she asks, surprised.

He smirks. "What do you think of Jocasta?"

Kassidy parts her lips to answer but a thunderous clap of lightning followed by a down pouring of rain outside forces her and Antonio to flinch.

"Wow, I didn't think it was actually gonna rain," she says, her aqua eyes focused out the windows.

Antonio looks down at his smartwatch for the time. "I hope James isn't far, otherwise he'll be dripping when he gets here."

About three streets up, James sits on his motorcycle at a red light, slowly becoming soaked to the bone. He huffs and readjusts the spangled helmet shielding his face from the hard raindrops. The blonde wonders why the storm couldn't wait until he arrived at the restaurant a minute up the street. At least he decided to wear a thick jacket, which is soaking up most of the water. His jeans on the other hand, well, they're slightly wet.

The young man taps his shoed-foot on the pavement as he waits for the traffic light to change. When the light finally does turn from red to green, the sudden burst of air from taking off hits him, and sends a chill up and down his spine. Natasha tried to warn him before he left the house that it would rain, and offered her car for him to drive. But no, I just had to ignore her and take my bike. And now I'm going to catch a cold. His mental complaints are set aside when he reaches the restaurant, and as he pulls up to the curb to park, the rain begins to lighten. James takes this chance to hop off his bike, secure his helmet and run inside. He stands in the entrance, dripping on the floor. The front of his pants and jacket took the brunt of the weather, but when he sheds his coat, his plaid button up underneath is dry. A host greets him and takes him to the table his friends have been waiting at.

As James approaches the table, both Kassidy and Antonio coming into view now, his heart races. Every doubt and anxiety rushes his mind, and he wonders if it's too late to turn around and go back home. What if they don't recognize me? What if I've changed too much? Will they see what China did to me? Will they even know me? But when Kassidy lifts her eyes and sees him for the first time in over four years, her lips stretch into a toothy grin larger than he's ever seen before. Antonio looks at her, puzzled, then follows her gaze and starts smiling with her. James reaches their table, and the host departs, leaving him to decide how he wants this night to go. But the reaction of his friends is enough to soften his nerves.

Kassidy stands from her chair and steps in his direction. First, she's hesitant, regarding him curiously, scanning him completely before she looks in his dark, blueberry eyes. She stares for a moment that to James feels like forever as if searching for something in his eyes. He almost feels a bead of sweat pop up on his brow, wondering if she can see through his thinly veiled anxiety. But, likewise, James looks over every inch of her face to see what's changed. There's a certain light in her eyes, a spark of something he's sure wasn't there when he saw her last. But the visible tiredness on her face distracts anyone looking on her from the flame glowing in her eyes.

"Your hair," she says. "It's…longer."

"So is yours," he replies. She breaks into another smile and wraps her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. In return, he secures his arms around her back, squeezing her. Kassidy breathes out, relief covering her features as she pulls away, stepping back for Antonio.

"Forgive me if I don't shake your hand, but I had a little accident earlier and—" Antonio explains. The sudden cut off of James pulling him into a bear hug tells Antonio that he couldn't care less about him not shaking his hand. The guys part and James looks over Antonio as he did Kassidy. He notices firstly that those old bulky glasses no longer frame his face, but his own features dominate his appearance. His smile seems sincere like he's happy in life. His electric eyes are bright, and James can see a million ideas swirling in them.

"We missed you," Antonio says. He offers him the last seat at their table trio.

"I missed you guys too," he replies. James sits down, taking a quick glance around the room before he settles in his chair. He notices plenty of people eating and chatting in their own little worlds, and soon the waiter comes back with Kassidy and Antonio's drinks. The young Indian man asks James what he'll drink, but he ponders on the question. Simple, sure. But what is there to drink in America these days? He's been in China so long, all he can think of is water and yellow wine, but now that he's home and at a Thai restaurant, he's not sure. Kassidy whispers to him, obviously sensing his distress in deciding.

"I ordered lemonade," she says, winking at him. James offers her a small smile as thanks for her suggestion and tells the waiter he'd like lemon water. He looks back at her, her eyebrows arched.

"I decided I did want the lemon part, so thanks," he says.

Kassidy stifles a laugh and glances at Antonio, who's leaned back in his chair shaking his head. "So," he starts. "What have you been doing since you got home?"

James thinks on it, contemplating how to tell his curious friends that he's done nothing since he got home. "Not a lot, really. I've worked on my bike some, cleaned out my old room, and I'm about to replace a floor board outside the kitchen that's been driving me crazy."

"You're fixing that board? That's a relief," Kassidy says. "Every time I visit Aunt Nat, I step on that board and it makes me cringe every time."

"Just make sure you get the stain matched perfectly, or else that board will really bother your mom after it's replaced," Antonio adds with a smirk. Kassidy nods in agreement and James makes note, sticking it on the metaphorical fridge in his head.

"So, what have you two been doing the past four years? I feel silly asking such a question, but I'm so out of touch," James says. He folds his arms on the table in front of him, leaning in to what they might say. Kassidy and Antonio exchange glances, as if silently arguing over who would speak first. And as James watches, he can tell by the arch of Kassidy's brow and the smirk on her face that she is winning.

"Right," Antonio starts, focusing on James. "Well, I'm out of college. Graduated earlier this year with a Master of Electrical Engineering."

"Wow, that's great, Howie! I know you were preparing when I left, but I didn't realize you were through already." The young Rogers puts his focus on his friend for a while, listening to what Antonio has to say about college life at MIT and how he's working in his father's company now. And with every word that comes from his mouth, Antonio exudes a level of excitement for life. But there's something off in his eyes as he talks about what his father has planned for his future in the company, and James wonders how happy Antonio really is.

"Right now, I'm stuck overseeing the Interns. You know, babysitting," he says, a slight tone of resentment in his voice.

Kassidy whacks Antonio's arm with the back of her hand. "That's mean."

But the Stark just shrugs. "But Kassy over here actually has been babysitting."

James looks at her in disbelief, waiting expectantly for an explanation. Kassidy leans back in her chair, suppressing a bashful smile. "I'm not babysitting exactly. I teach Archery at the recreation center here in Midtown. I teach everyone from little kids to older adults. It's very rewarding, even if the pay isn't great."

"Wow," James shakes his head. "That's incredible. I never thought you'd be a teacher."

Kassidy laughs. "Neither did I. But three years ago, I went for an interview and apparently the activities director thought I was good enough to teach a class, so. Other than that—which consumes pretty much all of my time—I'm not doing much."

Antonio mutters something under his breath about her not having time, then looks off as if he never said anything. Kassidy sits up straight, narrowing her eyes at him. James notices the shift in the mood and the tension that's suddenly squashed their happy reunion. Something is going on here, he tells himself. It's not long before the waiter returns with dinner orders and a big bowl of rice that he drops in the middle of the table for them to share with dinner—a Thai thing. The blonde tries to keep the conversation going with lighthearted questions, both his friends giving short answers.

"So, Kassy, how's Aunt Bobbie?" James asks, one more attempt to get her talking again.

"Mom's fine, she's visiting next week. I'm pretty excited to see her. It's been eight months since I saw her last," she says.

"Wow. Have you two ever gone that long without seeing each other?" James asks.

Kassidy shakes her head. "No. It's been kind of hard, but we're used to not being face to face anymore, so it's okay."

"And I thought Maria and I were few and far between," Antonio adds.

James sees an opening for interaction and capitalizes on it. "Yeah, how is that crazy sister of yours? What is she doing now?"

Antonio glances at his friends, obviously trying to find a way to describe her. "Well, she's overseeing the West Coast Branch of Stark Solutions now. And apparently, she's working on some big project no one has let me in on."

Kassidy stifles a laugh at Antonio's half-way pout. "Knowing your family, you'll figure it out soon enough."

"Mom said something similar to that phrase earlier. I'm actually considering just calling Maria and pestering her until she spills," Antonio laughs. And as he laughs, James smiles. Kassidy is talking to him now, and whatever tension was there has disappeared. The sound of all of them talking together, and laughing and poking fun is enough to drown out the sounds of everyone else in the building. The cheerful conversation makes James feel like it's just the three of them like it used to be. And for a moment, he forgets all about China, and the hard choices, and the pain that stole so many years from him. Right now, it's just him and his best friends. And as the waiter approaches, now with some food.

As the dinner bowls and chopsticks are being doled out, a loud buzz takes the boys eyes off the food and puts their attention on Kassidy, who cringes at the sound of her own phone vibrating. She sheepishly smiles at them and pulls her collapsed phone out of her pocket, and the center diamond button is flashing a dark orchid. She presses the button, and both James and Antonio watch her face as she reacts to whatever her phone is telling her.

Her aqua eyes, now hard and cold, look to her friends. "Guys, I'm so sorry, but David from work texted me, said there was a break in. I really need to go."

James and Antonio exchange glances, both looking to the other for what to say. "If you really need to go," James says.

"I really do. I'm so sorry guys." Kassidy stands from her chair and hugs both of them goodbye, but Antonio sits stiffly as she halfheartedly wraps her arms around him from the side. The young Stark watches her until she moves out of view, running down the sidewalk in the light rain still coming down. Once she's gone, he moves his eyes back to his food in front of him, staring at it like he's lost his appetite.

"Howie?" James says, trying to snap his friend back to reality. Antonio raises his head, offering his best fake smile, then starts chowing down. The whole situation just feels unusual—even though James isn't sure what "usual" is for his friends anymore. Kassidy suddenly leaving, Antonio being so tense, the awkward lull in their conversations. Then, it hits James. "You haven't told her, have you?"

Antonio almost chokes on his noodles. "What?"

"Howie," James starts, exasperation lacing his tone. "You promised me when I left that you were going to tell Kassidy how you felt about her before you went to college."

The Stark gets over his deer-in-the-headlights moment and swallows hard, sipping some of his herbal tea. "Well, the thing is…things got complicated, okay!"

"Complicated, huh?" James grips the bridge of his nose, mentally attempting to put himself in his friend's shoes. "So, how exactly did things get complicated?"

Antonio glances around the room, landing his eyes on every other person eating. His electric gaze stops on his food and he sighs in defeat. "So maybe things didn't get complicated…maybe I chickened out. But, in my defense, Kassy was going through a lot at the time. What with her mom going back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and everything. I guess I didn't want to add any extra pressure on her. Besides, I was getting ready to move for college and I just got busy."

"I get that. But that doesn't explain what's going on right now. Why are you two so…out of sync?" James asks, poking at his food with a chopstick.

Antonio shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. Ever since I got home from college in April, she's been acting weird. We've barely spoken, she never answers my calls or texts, she's constantly blowing me off. She hasn't even been to my house in four months, James. Four months. I just…I'm worried she's in some kind of trouble, you know?"

"If Kassy is in any trouble, I'm positive she'd tell you," James reasons. "Maybe she's just going through some stuff."

"But wouldn't she tell me? She came over to the Tower a few nights ago and we talked, I thought we'd come to an understanding but I just don't know. Something is wrong with her, but she just won't tell me what it is," Antonio says, twirling his noodles with his fork around the bowl. James furrows his brow, watching Antonio run a hand through his spiky black mop. He can tell by the look on his friend's face that he's mentally second guessing everything. "Maybe you can talk to her?" Antonio asks. "She listens to you."

"I can try, but if she's not telling you anything, don't bank on her spilling her guts to me."

The rest of their meal is eaten in silence, one or the other occasionally asking a question or making a comment. James looks over to Antonio every so often, and when their eyes lock, both know they're thinking the same thing. This dinner did not go as planned.

East 111th Street, East Harlem. 9:25 pm.

Kassidy runs as fast as possible to make it to the gas station that was robbed the other night—or not robbed? She was still a little confused about that part. She'd programmed her police scanner to alert her if an alarm went off in the area in hopes of finding a criminal to interrogate on the mysterious strong man that threw her new friend into a counter. She only hopes she's not too late to catch whoever tripped the silent alarm at the diner down the street from the station.

Kassidy's canvas shoes land hard on the gravel roof of an apartment building directly across from the diner in question. She touches the side of her goggles and readjusts the sights to zoom in, hoping to see what's going on down there. But everything looks quiet.

"Huh," she grunts. The young hero chews the inside of her cheek as she watches closely, waiting for something, anything, to happen. But the only thing that moves is a stray cat running from behind the diner.

"Whatcha looking at?" a male voice comes from beside her, almost startling her off the ledge she's perched on. She swings her bow down and sweeps the feet out from whomever is behind her, pinning him to the ground. "Hey, hey it's just me! It's Marvel!"

Kassidy looks down at the man she has pinned to the roof and tries hard not to laugh at his terrified expression. Laying there, with his hands raised to the sky in defense, his emerald eyes wild under his black mask. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize it was you."

"Obviously." She pulls her bow away, draping it across her chest. Kassidy offers him a hand and pulls him up off the roof. Mr. Marvel dusts off his leather jacket and jeans, smirking at her. "And before you ask, I'm the one who set off the alarm. I couldn't think of any other way to contact you."

Kassidy narrows her eyes curiously. "You set off a restaurant's alarm to get my attention?"

"It's fine, I know the owners, they'll just think it's a glitch in the security system," Marvel explains.

Kassidy shakes off his statement, trying not to think about it too long. "So, why did you need to contact me early anyway?"

"Because the yellow tape is gone. The police pulled out this afternoon."

Kassidy arches her brows. "So soon?"

"Yeah. I guess because they caught the perp, they figured it was a case closed. Besides, they can't really charge him with theft because he didn't steal anything," Marvel explains.

"But they can charge him with Breaking and Entering," Kassidy counters, concern now in her tone.

"He didn't have a weapon on him, so that's not enough to keep him long. And from the things I've been hearing around town, I don't think he was working alone. I've gotten reports from local shop owners about super strong guys robbing them and making off with a lot of money," Marvel says.

What have I gotten myself into, she thinks, rubbing her temples as she contemplates what to do. "Well, we better get a head start then. I'm sure the police picked the place clean, but if the guy was looking for something specific…"

"Maybe they didn't find it," he finishes. Mr. Marvel absorbs himself in a halo of bright green, and he lifts his body into the air, gently landing on the street below. Kassidy rolls her eyes at her friend the glow-stick and climbs down the fire escape on the side of the building. She walks around to meet him, and the two sneak their way to the gas station on the corner of 2nd Street and East 111th.

And just like he said, the police tape is gone. The canopied gas pumps are lit up once more, and the broken glass on the front door has been replaced. The two vigilantes walk around the back between the convenient store and the service station to jimmy open the back door, but Marvel stops Kassidy in her place.

"What about the security cameras?" he asks. "Do you think they've replaced them yet?"

Kassidy shakes her head at herself for not thinking of that. She peeks around the corner of the building and scans the area above the back door, her eyes catching on the old, bulky camera drooping, frozen in place. She looks in closer for the tiny red light that will blink if it's on, but no such light is found. No security, free investigating, she thinks with a smirk. Kassidy turns her head back to her partner and motions for him to follow her to the door. She squats down eye-level with the doorknob and deadbolt and pulls a hair pin out of her hoodie pocket.

"Wait," Marvel starts. "You know how to pick a lock with a bobby-pin?" His bright green eyes swirl with amazement as Kassidy smiles up at him. She sticks the long silver pin in the lock and starts rotating it. She twists the pin while she leans close to the lock, listening for the click that means it's open. The click finally comes, and she does the same to the lock on the handle. The doorknob clicks and a smirk spreads across her lips as she turns the knob and pushes the door open. Marvel looks down at her with a blank expression. "I don't know if I'm impressed or concerned."

"Come on," she says. The two vigilantes slip in the door, not expecting anything specific to jump out as they walk around. Kassidy notices that the place has been cleaned, broken glass from the door swept up, the counter Mr. Marvel was thrown into has been replaced, but the crater in the concrete floor is still there. I wonder how the police felt about that? She kneels beside the punch-mark and pulls her hood back, brushing her fingers over the broken concrete. Marvel joins her and rubs his stomach as he stares down at the hole.

Kassidy looks up at him, watching his expression change from disdain to regret to anger then to concern. "How is your injury? You didn't have any cracked ribs, did you?"

"Nah, just bruised ones. I'm fine though," he smiles, locking eyes with her. She nods and stands, moving towards the lottery counter where they found the guy.

At a first glance, the cabinets underneath the lottery counter don't look special, the shelves hold nothing of value, and Kassidy wonders if maybe whatever the guy was searching for wasn't where he thought it was…which makes her wonder, where did he think it was? Across from her, Marvel searches through the shelves and drawers of the main checkout counter, finding nothing. "I don't know, maybe the police found what he was looking for and it's being investigated," he says, propping his hands on his hips.

The exasperation in her friend's voice tells Kassidy to keep looking, even if it seems pointless. "Even so, my contact in the force would have mentioned something to me. Let's just keep looking for—" she stops herself.

"What?" Marvel asks.

Kassidy stills and listens, hoping the noise she just heard was an animal and not a person. But a shuffle of feet sounds and Kassidy darts her eyes to her friend. "We need to hide, now."

The two rush towards the back of the store, hoping to hide in the public bathroom, but the door is locked, so is the manager's office and the entrance to the storage room. They frantically search as the back doorknob shudders, and someone tries to come in. Only one door is left—the door to the supply closet—and Marvel turns the handle. The door opens and the two squeeze in, closing it and locking it from the inside. A crash sounds as the backdoor flies open and slams against the wall. Kassidy's breath hitches in her throat and she listens for what follows.

In the darkness and tight quarters, she looks up at Marvel, who has his attention directed towards the layered grate at the bottom of the door, leaking light. The closet stills and two voices carry through the convenient store.

"Wow, the CSI wiped this place clean," comes the first voice, scratchy and shrill.

The second voice, much deeper and with a harsh New York accent scoffs at the other. "Of course they did, it's their job." The voices quiet as footfalls land in different places in the store, all sounds localizing around the front counters, where the man several nights ago had been.

"Do you think Saieed will stay in jail, or do you think the boss will...you know, kill him?" shrill asks, bumping around and slamming cabinet doors.

"My money is on him gettin' axed before he gets comfortable in prison. Besides, all the guys know this whole screw up was his fault. If he'd just reported in when he was sposta, he wouldna had to break in for the pickup," says dark and brooding, emphasizing his made-up words.

Kassidy leans closer to the door, hoping to get a better grasp on what they're saying without falling forward on Marvel. Her friend looks down at her after she moves, probably noticing the closeness of the situation for the first time since shoving himself in here. Even in the dark with a tiny bit of light shining through, Kassidy can see the soft blush forming on her partner's cheeks. He's trying hard not to look at her and focus on the space between them, but the pained expression on his face forces Kassidy to smirk. This isn't an ideal situation for two people who hardly know each other, but they'll have to learn some time.

The two men outside continue to ransack the place for a good five minutes looking for the same thing the other guy was. As Kassidy starts to relax a little against the door frame, suddenly the men start talking again. "Wait a minute, Jed," says Mr. Shrill. "The drop-off guy works here, doesn't he? So maybe the Amp is in the employee room or the manager's office?"

Amp? Kassidy mouths to Marvel, but he just shrugs his shoulders and they turn back to the conversation outside the closet.

Jed apparently—cackles, then his voice turns serious. "Now why didn't I think of that." A loud slap, like the sound of skin meeting skin, makes Kassidy jump. Marvel touches her shoulder, assuring her with a nod that it's okay. But the sound of the men's feet clomping this way forces her breathing to pick up. The manager's office door is right beside the door to the supply closet, and if she or Marvel make one false move or sound, they'll probably die. That is if these two are just as strong as the last one. And from the sound of the back door slamming into the wall behind it, Kassidy's best guess is they are. Marvel must feel the weight of the situation too because he gently slips his hand over the doorknob to secure it.

Fists bang on the office door and one of the men shakes the handle, but the door is locked. "Why don't you just bust it down?" Shrill asks.

Jed huffs. "The Amp is wearing off, Otto...I don't have much strength left."

"Well, I've been off the stuff for two weeks, at least your last dose was a week ago," Otto says.

"And we'll both be off it permanently unless we find this missing shipment," Jed replies. A few more pounds against the metal office door and the two give up.

"Well maybe we should go check at the police station?" Otto asks as a last attempt. "If they did find it, then maybe it's in an evidence locker or somethin'?"

Another slap echoes and a grunt follows as the two men walk back into the main area of the store. As soon as they're away from the supply closet, Kassidy's phone starts vibrating uncontrollably. Both of the vigilante's eyes widen, and Kassidy fumbles to cut it off.

"Otto, you hear that?" Jed asks. Their feet stop moving while Marvel's grip on the doorknob tightens.

"Turn it off!" he whispers.

"I'm trying," she says. She finally gets her hands on her phone and presses the center button, silencing the vibrating. An unnerving quiet floods the split second after the phone stops, and Kassidy's heart stops beating. The two heroes stare at each other and wait for the men outside to find them, but no sound of feet come their way.

"I don't hear nothing, Jed," Otto says. Obviously, Otto's comment was enough to convince Jed to go ahead and leave the scene. Within a few seconds, the two men clear out and Kassidy breathes out for the first time in what seems like forever.

She laughs weakly as Marvel unlocks the door, allowing them to spill out of the tight space. Kassidy's knees are stiff from standing in place so long, and Marvel asks if she's okay. "I'm fine," she answers. "I've been in some tight spaces before, but this is my first time hiding out in a broom closet."

Her partner laughs. He has a great laugh, she thinks. "Well, it was a first for me too. But what I wanna know is why your phone went off?"

Kassidy blinks hard. She didn't even look at her phone to see who was calling her. She pulls her phone out, twisting her ponytail between her fingers as she looks at her screen. It was James. He called her but didn't leave a message. Kassidy furrows her brow in thought, wondering why he called.

"Was it an emergency?" Marvel asks. They look at each other for a moment as he waits for an answer. She begins to smile.

"It was nothing important. But I think our new friends Jed and Otto had the right idea about checking with the police. I have someone I can call, and I'll see if some kind of liquid referred to as 'Amp' was recovered from the scene," she says. They walk to the front and look around, scanning the mess the men made behind the counters.

"Wait, just so we're on the same page here," Marvel starts, scratching his head. "We are talking about asking someone to hack the NYPD's system to bring up confidential case files and evidence entry?" She looks back at her friend, offering a shrug as her only reply. Marvel shakes his head and grins. "You know someone for everything don't you?"

Kassidy nods. "I try to stay connected." She pulls her hood back over her head and starts towards the back door, but her partner calls her.

"Hey, before you go," he starts, rummaging through his jacket pocket. He pulls out a slip of paper with writing on it- numbers. "Instead of setting off alarms to contact each other, you can call this number to get in touch with me."

Kassidy eyes the tiny piece of paper. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Don't worry, it's not my personal number. It's just one you can call me on if you need some back up, or if you figure out the next piece of the puzzle." Marvel's inviting smile somehow settles all the concerns rolling around in her head. Somehow, she knows she can trust him. She's never felt like that about another hero.

"Okay, Marvel. I'll give you a call soon. Just don't leave the country or anything," she jokes. Marvel's laugh echoes in her mind as she finds a roof to climb onto and starts towards her apartment. But halfway there she stops, landing on a thrift store's roof.

Kassidy pulls out her phone, her mind wrestling with her conscience. She wants to call James, ask what he needed this late at night, but for some reason, she can't stop thinking about when she called her mother earlier in the day. She wanted so badly to tell her, someone, what was going on with her, and she has a bad feeling James is picking up on it. She shakes her head, hoping to rattle her resolve back into submission, but loneliness drags at her heels, slowing her down and preventing her from hopping to the next building. Something has to give, she reminds herself. Kassidy stops on the ledge, shoving her phone back in her pocket as she drops her head. She sighs hard, squeezing her eyes shut. She can't go home. She can't get up tomorrow, one more day, knowing she'll end up back on the roof tops, doing this alone.

So, she starts off for Brooklyn.

Rogers' House. 11:17 pm.

Normally, at eleven at night, most people are in bed. The lights get turned off, the doors get locked, and people go to sleep. Normally. But James has never been much for normal. Normal gets thrown out the window in the military, and whatever your branch says is normal is normal for you. James learned the hard way in China. So, instead of teaching him that normal was going to sleep when night fell, they told him that night was a time for moving from place to place, allowing the cover darkness gave to shield you from enemy eyes. Night was a time for work. And why sleep when there's a squeaky board outside the kitchen that needs replacing?

James stands in his mom's garage with a one by four stretched across a worktable and several sheets of sandpaper, sanding it down to be stained. He rubs the paper in hard strokes against the wood, from one end to the other. All the pressure he can manage is pushed down the board to make it soft and smooth. The thought of walking into the kitchen and not hearing that nerve-killing squeal will be the most productive thing he's done since being home. And doing something productive is better than lying in bed—or on the floor—being unproductive. James scrapes at the board a few more times before running his hand on the surface, the smoothness of it making him grin. He turns the board on its side to sand the edges down when he stops, a noise catching his attention. He hears a sound like shoes scrubbing against the concrete driveway.

James turns his head towards the half open garage door he left open for a breeze and sees a set of canvas shoes, still and unmoving. He reaches for something to use as a weapon when the body attached to the shoes crouches down and under the metal door. To James' surprise, it's a familiar face.

"Hi." Kassidy stands before him with goggles hanging around her neck, her golden hair tied back, and clad in purple and gray athletic clothes. A strap across her chest is connected to a cloth quiver on her back, and she holds a silver bow in her hand. James looks her up and down, trying to figure what to make of her. "I got your call," she says. "I was in the middle of something at the time."

James crosses his arms over his chest and stares at her, from her outfit to her goggles to the ashamed haze in her aquamarine eyes. "Do I want to know? Wait, better yet, let me take a wild guess." Kassidy drops her eyes to the floor and twists her shoed-in toes on the concrete, glancing around at everything but her friend. "Going by your clothes, and the fact that you have your father's bow with you—"

"Okay, you can stop," she interjects. Kassidy lifts her eyes to meet James' dark and concerned gaze. She pushes out a breath and slings her bow over her head, allowing it to rest across her body. "Yes, I am…I am a vigilante. I've been one for the past three years."

"Three years?" James asks, his tone shocked but not too shocked. "I assume Antonio doesn't know?"

Kassidy laughs. "Are you crazy? If he knew what I've been doing he'd have a heart-attack."

"And what have you been doing?" he wonders aloud. Kassidy stares him down, and he can tell by the expression on her tired features that this is hard for her. Every idea of explanation that comes to her is tossed and turn in her mind, fighting every urge telling her to keep her mouth shut. Because why blow the most important secret you've been keeping closely guarded the past three years? But it was too late. She'd already told him. So why not tell him the rest?

"My phone went off at dinner because a friend of mine was trying to contact me. James," she pauses, hoping she can put in to words the feeling she's had. "We've stumbled on to something big, I feel it in my gut. And as much as I want to tell Antonio everything, it's just too dangerous." James opens his mouth to say something, but Kassidy stops him. "I know you know how to take care of yourself, you're a soldier for crying out loud. But Howie? I know if I tell him what I'm doing he'd either hate me or want to help me."

"And what's wrong with him wanting to help you? Kassy, he's a lot stronger than you give him credit for. And he's worried about you, we all are. When I came home, I expected my two best friends in this world to be closer than ever, but instead, I come home to the two of you struggling to carry on a decent conversation!" His voice rises with his concern. Kassidy tries to tame him, warning that his volume might wake Natasha. "She's probably already awake and listening to us anyway. The point is, Kassy, Antonio thinks that something is seriously wrong with you."

"He said that?" she asks.

"After you left the restaurant. He ran down his list of concerns and possible reasons for your distancing from him," James says.

Kassidy smirks. "That sounds like him. But I did it for a reason. I was in a bad place when Mom left, then you and then Antonio…I just didn't know what to do with myself. So, I did something I knew I'd be good at, and it's worked out for this city."

"But is this city more important than your relationships?" James asks.

The question reverberates through Kassidy's mind. Was it? Was leaving her friends—her family—behind in the dust of her heroism more important than telling them the truth? Was keeping her other life secret more important than letting her family into her world? But the most important question of all…was she willing to give up those relationships entirely to fuel a passion that might kill her?

"I know why you're doing it Kassy, you don't have to explain it to me. But Antonio is a little less in tune with things like that. He takes words at face value, he trusts people. And he trusts you," he says, rubbing the sleep from his face. "You can't keep shutting him out anymore."

I knew I should've stayed in bed this morning, she thinks. Kassidy knew this was coming. She's been dreading it for months. And somehow, she knew today would be her last day as the only keeper of her secret. It was just one of those feelings. A gut feeling. "What am I supposed to say to him?" she asks, her voice cracking under the weight on her chest.

James looks at her with a sympathetic smile, a small, comforting smile, the kind only he can give her. He can see the tear in her veil, a crack in the glass walls that surround her emotions. Kassidy has always been see-through to James, like a clean window. He motions for her to come closer to him, and he takes her hands in his, squeezing them. Supportively, he grins, one bigger than before, and she tries to return it, but the upturned frown she offers is fleeting.

"You don't have to say anything special, but if you don't say anything at all, you're going to push him away," he reasons. She nods in agreement, thinking hard about the decision. "If you want me too, I'll call Antonio and we can all have lunch Monday afternoon."

"I have some classes in the afternoon, but they don't start until two-thirty."

"Then we'll do it around noon. I'll make myself scarce after we eat, and you can talk to him then. But," he pauses, making sure she's listening. "You have to promise me that you will tell him. No backing out, no cold feet."

Kassidy hesitantly nods. "I'll do my best."

James smiles. "That's all I ask for." He pulls her into a tight hug and she rests her chin on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I'm so much trouble. I didn't want you to come home and have to fix everything…but I guess I have a hard time when no one's pushing me," she admits with a weak chuckle.

James waves it off as they part. If he were honest with her, he'd admit that he was happy that they need him, that they haven't noticed a change in him. Or at least, they don't act like they do. He was so afraid he would come back to a home he wouldn't have a place in, to friends that didn't want him because of what he's become, but Kassidy and Antonio don't know what he's become. And after convincing Kassidy to reveal her secrets, he only hopes he can keep his.

"So, are you going to go all the way back to midtown tonight?" James asks, passively asking if she'd like to stay for the night. He starts tidying up his workspace, putting tools away for the night and storing his board under the worktable.

Kassidy shoves her hands in her hoodie pocket. "Yeah, my adult senior classes start at nine sharp in the morning, and it's late enough already. But thanks anyway," she winks. James nods and they walk towards the garage door. He lifts the door and the metal rolls up above their heads as she pulls her hood on, slipping her orange goggles over her eyes. "I'll see you Monday…and thanks for everything." She kisses him on the cheek before she heads out.

James smiles at her as she goes, hoping that this resolve of hers sticks around long enough to tell Antonio the truth. He waves as she starts running in the bridge's direction. He walks back in the garage and closes the door behind him, locking it down for the night. Before he can get to the door that leads inside, his mother opens it and pops her head out.

"I knew something was up with Kas—" she starts.

James cuts her off with a deathly glare. "Mom, can we not?"

---

A/N: "Mom, can we not?" xD Hahaha, oh James. So? Enjoy this chapter? You'll love the next chapter, because everything is finally coming together. Are you ready? I know I am. Be prepared, because Destiny is coming. P.S. Bonus points to whoever caught the Steven Universe reference in this chapter! Also, I think it's safe to say that these chapter will be posted on a monthly/bi-monthly basis. Simply because it takes a while to write, edit and perfect. So expect that.

Up Next: Destiny, Part 1.

Hey I just posted this...and this is crazy...but since you've read it...review it maybe?