Chapter Three: Among the Broken Mirrors

Maggie forgot where she was when she woke up. The bare, unfamiliar room and too-soft bedsheets caught her off guard and set her heart pounding in her chest until she remembered that she was in Queens, in the Parkers' apartment.

Drawing in a deep breath through her nose, she sat up on the bed and pulled at the knots in her hair. She glanced at the little clock to her left. Seven o'clock. The barest traces of sunlight crawled through the cracks between the curtains, lighting up the cream carpet on the floor. The people on the street didn't seem to care what time it was; they honked their horns like they were going to get a prize for it. Maggie didn't mind, though. Once she was awake, she had a hard time falling asleep again.

With a huge yawn, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to her feet. She stretched her arms over her head before making her way out of the room and into the kitchen.

May sat at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading a novel. She looked up when Maggie walked in.

"Morning, sunshine," she said in a quiet voice.

"Good morning," Maggie replied.

May stuck her bookmark in to mark her page, closed her book, and asked, "How'd you sleep?"

Well, I never sleep anymore because of the nightmares but other than that just great!

Maggie shrugged. "Fine."

"That's good, I'm glad," she said, smiling. "You hungry?"

"Starving," Maggie answered, and she laughed when May did.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? How do you like your eggs?"

In no time, the kitchen was filled with the sound of eggs cracking and the sizzle of the stove. Maggie sat on the bench at the table, watching May whip up a plate of steaming scrambled eggs that she set in front of her with a wink. Maggie drowned her eggs in ketchup, then dug in. May made another serving of eggs for when Peter and Daisy woke up before sitting across from Maggie.

As Maggie ate, May told her, "I have to go to work today, unfortunately, but the kids are going to take you around the neighborhood today and show you around a little bit. Is that okay with you?"

Mouth full of eggs, Maggie nodded.

May left for work half an hour later and Maggie was by herself again, all alone in the apartment. She cleaned her plate when she'd finished her eggs, drying it with a dishtowel, but she didn't know where they kept their plates, so she just left it on the counter and hoped May wouldn't get mad.

She could see more of the apartment during the daytime. The walls in the den were a golden yellow, while the kitchen had a decorative wallpaper. There was a carpet in the kitchen she hadn't noticed the night before. She was sure it would look a lot better when they got all the boxes unpacked, but it was still nice. A bit plain, but nice.

Maggie figured Peter and Daisy weren't going to be up for a bit, so she went back to her room. She stood in the doorway for a second before she went in, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Daisy's words from the night before hadn't left her head. She had no idea she'd been taking the room from her, and she really felt awful about it. That had to be why Daisy had given her the cold shoulder.

Drawing in a deep breath, Maggie decided that she couldn't change what had happened, but maybe she could make it up to her somehow. Extend an olive branch, of sorts. She had no idea what that could be, but she was sure she'd figure it out. In the meantime, she might as well get settled.

She dragged her suitcase into the middle of the room, unzipped the biggest pocket, and started unpacking her clothes, carefully and meticulously organizing them in the wardrobe and nightstand. She made sure shorts were with shorts and socks with socks and no two articles of clothing next to each other were the same color. Maggie had a system. It might not have made sense to anyone else, but it did to her, and that was what mattered. Sometimes, if one of the boys was making fun of her, she would hide his clothes somewhere in the compound while the team was on a mission to get back at him.

As she picked up one of her father's old MIT sweatshirts and stood to hang it in the wardrobe, a worn polaroid picture fell out of the sleeve. Laying the sweatshirt on the bed, Maggie bent down and flipped over the picture.

Sometime around her thirteenth birthday, Mama and Dad had taken her with them on a business trip to France instead of leaving her with Happy or Uncle Rhodey. They "needed a family vacation," Dad had said, and for once, he was right. The three of them hadn't spent much time together, and the apartment in Paris was just gathering dust. There was one day in particular where both her parents had cleared their schedules and planned for a family day, but then Mama had a last minute meeting that she couldn't cancel.

Looking back, that meeting was the best thing that could have happened. Dad had ended up taking her out to the palace of Versailles for a father/daughter day, just the two of them. No phone calls, no superhero business. Just Maggie and her dad enjoying the gardens and grounds at Versailles.

They'd gotten someone else to take the picture for them. They stood at the end of one of the canals with the palace in the background, smiling brightly when their arms around each other. If she looked closely, Maggie could just make out a bit of chocolate on her face from the chocolate-covered strawberries Dad had packed in their picnic basket.

It was one of the best days of her life.

Maggie couldn't remember ever spending so much quality time with her father. She knew he tried his best to spend alone time with her—an afternoon here, a breakfast date there—but Tony Stark was a busy man. Having his full, undivided attention for that long was something that had never, in her memory, happened before or since.

An ache formed in her chest as she sat back onto the bed, still holding the polaroid. Maggie felt like a completely different person to the girl in the picture. She had her face and her smile and her eyes, but the other girl felt like a doppelganger. Thirteen wasn't much younger than fifteen, but to Maggie, it felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now. Back then, she had everything she'd ever wanted—parents who loved her, a best friend she trusted, a family who cared about her, whom she knew she could count on.

Now she had nothing but an old polaroid, an ache in her chest, and a mountain of guilt piling up with each breath she took.

A knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts. Maggie quickly tucked the picture under the MIT sweatshirt and looked up to find Peter standing in the doorway. He had on a large white t-shirt with what looked like a science pun on it, Thor pajama pants, and Iron Man socks. His hair stood on end in places, mussed up from sleep.

"Hey, didn't mean to scare you," he said softly.

"Oh, no, you're fine," Maggie said. "I just wasn't expecting anyone else to be up this early."

"Did May leave for work already?" he asked.

Maggie hummed.

"D'you know if she made any breakfast?"

A small smile wormed its way onto her face. "There's leftover scrambled eggs in the fridge."

Peter nodded in triumph, turned, and shuffled down the hall. Maggie decided to follow him into the kitchen. She sat down at the table while he heated up a plate.

"I'm guessing May told you what we're doing today," he said over his shoulder.

"Taking a tour of the neighborhood, apparently," Maggie replied. She didn't entirely know how to feel about it. On the one hand, it would be nice to visit parts of the city she hadn't seen before. On the other, it meant a day alone with two strangers in an unfamiliar part of the city. "Sounds fun."

Peter brought over his steaming eggs and grabbed the pepper shaker. "It'll be great, I promise. You've got the greatest tour guide to show you around."

"I assume that's supposed to be you?"

Peter grinned. "At your service."

As he scarfed down his food, something in the back of her head nagged at her, and she couldn't figure out what it was. It was almost like déjà vu, but… different. Not quite the same.

"Have we—" she started. Peter looked up from his plate, a bit of egg hanging from the corner of his mouth. She shook her head. "No, never mind."

"What?"

"It's nothing."

"No, come on, what's up?"

Maggie studied him for a moment. Took a deep breath and said, "I feel like I've met you before."

His eyes widened. Only a fraction, but enough that Maggie noticed. "W-What? I don't know what you're—what you're talking about."

"I don't know," Maggie said. "I don't know how to explain it. I just feel like we've met before."

"Well, I would definitely r-remember meeting someone like you," said Peter. "You must have me confused with someone else."

She tilted her head, brows furrowing in concentration. Had they crossed paths before, or was she making it up in her head? Seeing connections that weren't actually there?

But something about Peter felt so… familiar. Even his voice sounded familiar. She was sure she'd heard it before somewhere, even though she knew, logically, that she couldn't have.

Maggie realized Peter was staring at her. She shook her head again. "You're right, sorry. I'm probably thinking of someone else."

Peter gave her a skeptical look before going back to his food. Maggie looked out the window as he ate, watching the clouds drift slowly past the top of the tree that was planted next to the building. Its leaves shivered with an early morning breeze. Maggie had never lived anywhere with a tree so close to the window before.

"So," Peter said around a mouthful of eggs, "I was thinking we could go to Flushing Meadows today. It's a bit of a hike but it's totally worth it. And we can hit Delmar's bodega for lunch on the way there because you have to try one of his sandwiches on your first day here, it's mandatory."

Maggie made a face and asked, "What's a bodega?"

"It's like a little corner store with snacks and sandwiches and stuff," he explained. "There's lots of them in the neighborhood. Trust me, though, Delmar's is the best. Subhaven is a close second, but they use too much bread. You gotta have the perfect ratio of bread to meat to toppings, you know what I mean?"

"Not really," Maggie admitted.

The tips of Peter's ears went red. "Well, you will, don't worry."

They sat at the table together as Peter finished his eggs. He really seemed to fit into the stereotype of "growing teenage boy"—he went back for seconds and thirds. Maggie was worried there wouldn't be enough for Daisy, despite his assurances to the contrary. Besides, he told her, Daisy wasn't one to eat a big breakfast.

Maggie was fine when the two of them were talking. Peter seemed nice so far. The thought that she knew him wouldn't leave the back of her mind, but she tried to ignore it. She'd had a rough go of things the last few weeks, she was probably just tired or something.

When the conversation came to a lull, though, Maggie felt awkward. The silence itself wasn't uncomfortable, but Maggie couldn't figure out what to talk about next. What did teenagers like nowadays? Did he even like what most teenagers like? Did he have social media?

Maggie almost made herself dizzy chasing after all those questions. Part of her knew she didn't really need to worry herself so much over them. She was just nervous, if she was honest with herself. This had to be the longest conversation she'd ever had with another teenager before.

A door opened and shut somewhere in the apartment, and Daisy entered the kitchen a second later dressed in blue pajama bottoms and a grey shirt. Her dark hair was tucked in a low ponytail. As soon as she saw Maggie, she scowled.

"You're still here," she said, almost accusatory.

Her hostility caught Maggie off guard. She knew Daisy was mad at her for stealing the bedroom, but she'd thought her anger might fade overnight, and she would be at worst only mildly annoyed. Maggie didn't know how to respond. She opened her mouth, trying to think of something, but Daisy had already turned her back on them and opened the fridge. Maggie looked at Peter as annoyance flickered across his face. She was pretty sure it wasn't directed toward her.

Daisy refused to sit at the table with them. She chose to stand and lean against the counter, angrily chewing her Lucky Charms, which actually would have been funny if Maggie hadn't been the object of her anger. She wanted to say something to defuse the mounting tension in the room, but came up empty again.

Peter shot his sister a glare. "There's a chair right there, Dais."

"'M fine," she said.

"If you say so," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I was telling Maggie earlier, I think we should go to Flushing Meadows today. That's, like, quintessential Queens. It's perfect for her first day."

Technically, Maggie had already been to Flushing Meadows before, but what Peter didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Noisily slurping a spoonful of cereal, Daisy arched an annoyed eyebrow. "That's almost an hour away."

"So is Midtown, and you never complain about it," Peter pointed out crossly. "You wanna sit around the apartment all day you can, but I'm taking Maggie to Flushing Meadows."

"Who said you get to decide everything?"

"I'm older."

"By sixteen minutes."

"Best sixteen minutes of my life right now."

Daisy's scowl deepened. "Jeez, who put a stick up your ass?"

"You did, actually," he shot back.

Maggie watched them go back and forth, her eyes darting from one to the other like they were playing in a verbal tennis match. She was almost in awe. The way they talked to each other, the eye rolls and irritated looks, it was so foreign to her. The closest thing Maggie had ever had to siblings were probably the bots, back in the old Malibu mansion. But Dum-E and U couldn't speak, at least not actual sentences; their little beeps and trills usually did the job in conveying how they felt, but they weren't quite words. Besides, robots weren't exactly the same as having a real brother or sister.

Peter and Daisy kept up their bickering as they put their dishes in the sink, and it was very quickly getting on Maggie's nerves. She hoped this wasn't something that happened often. She didn't know if she'd be able to put up with that for a whole school year.

If she even made it that long.

As they continued their argument, Maggie quietly excused herself and slipped into her new room, gently shutting the door behind herself. She got changed into a pair of jean shorts and an old hand-me-down U.S. Air Force t-shirt from her Uncle Rhodey. With expert hands, she pulled her long hair back and braided it together, tying it off on the end with a ponytail holder. She chose her dark green sneakers over her usual Converse, since they were probably going to be doing a lot of walking.

Before she went back out into the kitchen, Maggie hung up her MIT sweatshirt in the wardrobe. Her polaroid picture was still on the bed, her father's smiling face staring up at her. Maggie picked it up with her thumb and forefinger. Black Sharpie on the bottom read Versailles, 2014 with a tiny heart.

Maggie stuck the polaroid in a side pocket of her suitcase and joined Peter and Daisy.

They were out the door not long after. It was an absolutely gorgeous day. Bright sunlight shone down from a cloudless sky. A soft breeze made the heat bearable as they made their way down the crowded sidewalk. It seemed like everyone was outside enjoying the weather. They passed by a small playground bursting with young kids running and sliding and yelling with glee while their parents watched.

Delmar's Deli-Grocery was a cute little corner store just a few blocks away from Wisteria Towers. Its faded red awning, stretched over the sidewalk, proudly proclaimed "Best Sandwiches in Queens." There was a small stand out front, too, with heaping piles of pears, plums, peaches, and other juicy-looking fruits.

A soft bell rang when Peter pushed open the glass door. There were more racks of produce inside, columns of chips suspended on the walls, chilled drinks, signs advertising lottery tickets. A glass case showed off the fresh meats available for purchase. The store was fairly empty, but it was also still pretty early in the morning.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite twins!" a voice called. "How's it goin'?"

Behind the counter stood a bigger man with greying hair and a full dark beard, save for a shock of grey on his chin. He smiled warmly at them, and he looked to Maggie like the kind of guy everyone wanted as their grandfather.

"Enjoying freedom, Mr. Delmar," said Daisy.

Maggie hadn't seen Daisy smile yet, and it was… indescribable. Her whole face lit up. The dark storms in her eyes seemed to melt away as the skin around her eyes crinkled up. Maggie couldn't understand why her breath caught in her throat and her heart started beating just a little bit faster and a little bit harder in her chest. Daisy looked radiant when she smiled like that, less severe and sullen, and Maggie couldn't find it in herself look away.

"You'll be back in school before you know it," Mr. Delmar told them sagely, and Maggie was inclined to believe everything he said, regardless of whether it was true. He could say the sky was green and the sun was purple, and Maggie would probably agree with him.

"We just got out!"

"Summer'll fly by, just watch."

He gave them a toothy grin. He tilted his head when he caught sight of Maggie, half hidden behind Peter's body. "And who's this?"

Peter turned and stepped away so that Maggie was in full view. He said, "This is Maggie. She's a transfer student at Midtown, she's staying with us for a while since she lives in California."

"Smartypants, just like you two," Mr. Delmar said. He gave her an appreciative nod, reaching a hand over the counter. Maggie hesitantly stepped up and shook it. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thank you," Maggie replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leaning back, Mr. Delmar looked at the three of them jovially. "So what can I get you kids today? Usual for you two?" He pointed a finger between Peter and Daisy and they both nodded. Mr. Delmar called the order over his right shoulder before facing them again, his eyes on Maggie. "And for you?"

Maggie tilted her head back and scoured the menu above the counter. "Could I have the number three toasted with lettuce, tomato, honey mustard, and…" Her whole face screwed up in concentration. "Shit, I just had it in English. What the hell is it? The—the thing, shit." Maggie cycled through the languages she knew in her head, growing increasingly frustrated when she couldn't find the word she was looking for. She knew she knew it, she had to. Groaning, she looked back at Peter and asked, "Sabes lo que son los pepinillos en inglés?"

Peter's eyes went wide. Startled, he opened his mouth to respond, but Mr. Delmar beat him to it.

"Pickles?" he asked.

It was Maggie's turn to look surprised. She nodded gratefully. Mr. Delmar relayed the order to the cook, then turned back to Maggie.

"Your Spanish is excellent," he told her, and Maggie tried to ignore the heat crawling up her neck. "Even better than Mr. Parker over here."

Peter made a face as his cheeks turned red. Maggie laughed.

"I'd hope it's good, it's my first language," she told the older man. "Well, technically it's Spanglish, but same difference."

Mr. Delmar's eyebrows went up. "Really?"

Maggie nodded.

"So what do you speak at home, like, with your parents?" Peter asked.

"Mostly English," Maggie said. "Mama doesn't—didn't—know too much Spanish, it's just me and my dad." She grinned, remembering the trouble they got up to with the team. "Sometimes we'll switch between the two if we don't want the others to know what we're talking about, or another language. It's great for messing around with people."

But her smile faltered, falling as she realized she'd never be able to talk shit about her friends in front of their faces again. Because her friends were all in prison, on the run. Gone.

No one else seemed to notice. The conversation moved on, and Maggie tried not to dwell on the longing tugging at her heart. Apparently Peter took Spanish; Mr. Delmar asked him all about his class this year, whether he liked the teacher, if he would continue after sophomore year.

Daisy had stayed quiet throughout all of this, from the moment Mr. Delmar had addressed Maggie. There were times when she looked like she wanted to chime in, but for whatever reason, held herself back. She shot Maggie the occasional glare, and again Maggie was struck by her animosity. She tried to look at it from a purely logical standpoint, like Bruce had advised many times, but even then, it just didn't make sense. They'd barely spoken two words to each other. How could Daisy hate her without even talking to her?

They paid for their sandwiches, chips, and sodas with a bit of cash May had left for them. As they were leaving, Mr. Delmar threw Maggie a wink and called after them, "Stay out of trouble you three!"

"No promises!" Peter called back.

Maggie paused in the doorway. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Delmar!"

"¡Y tu, señorita!"

She followed Peter and Daisy out of the bodega and across the street to the subway stop, her plastic bag full of food rustling against the side of her leg. Maggie had never taken public transportation before; what was the point when they had private jets and garages full of cars? She had no idea what to expect as they descended into the underground.

As it turned out, the underground wasn't that bad at all. Not nearly as dirty or smelly as Maggie had anticipated. A little crowded, maybe, though nothing she couldn't handle. It was a little bit weird to see two grown men dressed like schoolgirls, and a homeless woman in the corridor asked Maggie if she would let her have a lock of her hair, but there was also a woman in the second station they stopped at who played a cover of a pop song on the violin. So all in all, Maggie decided, public transit wasn't terrible. It definitely wasn't her favorite thing in the world, but she could live with it.

Flushing Meadows was a lot bigger than Maggie remembered it being. Then again, she'd barely seen the park the last time she was there. There were dozens of families enjoying the nice weather, kids running through their parents' legs and dogs barking at passersby on the nature trails. Peter told Maggie about some of the park's landmarks as they ambled along one of the paths, shaded by a line of tall, thick trees.

"They've got literally everything here," he said, spreading his arms out in front of him. "A zoo, a museum, botanical garden, rec center, skate park, tons and tons of playgrounds, the New York Hall of Science—which is super awesome, by the way—plus there's this cool amusement park that Ben and May used to take us to when we were little. And if you look really closely, you might be able to see Citi Field over there, where the Mets play."

He paused to take a breath, allowing Maggie a moment of reprieve. Peter's rapid-fire barrage of information was a lot, even for her, and it didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, but Maggie didn't want to be rude and ask him to slow down.

At the center of the park was a giant metal sphere with three giant rings made to look like a globe of the world. Surrounded by a huge pool of water, it was set in the middle of a circle of fountains and held up by a triangular cradle of sorts. Families gathered underneath the globe, perched on the edge of the pool as little kids stuck their hands in the water and splashed each other. The three of them walked closer, and Maggie had to crane her neck to see the top of the globe.

"This is the Unisphere," Peter explained. "They built it for the World's Fair in, like, the forties, I think, but it hasn't been used for much since."

"It was the sixties," Maggie corrected.

Peter turned to look at her, confused. "What?"

"It was built in the sixties, commissioned for the 1964 World's Fair held here in the park," she said. "And then it was the center point for the Stark Expo until 1970, and again the last time the Expo was held. A hundred forty feet high, a hundred twenty feet in diameter, stainless steel. They had to restore it in 1993 because of structural damage and grime on the steel." Maggie lowered her head and found Peter and Daisy staring at her. Heat rose to her cheeks. "I just—love history. A lot."

Daisy rolled her eyes and went back to ignoring her. Maggie thought Peter might do the same, or get annoyed at her, but his whole face lit up.

"That's so cool!" he said, and Maggie's face grew even hotter. "Do you like certain kinds of history or just, like, everything?"

Maggie opened her mouth, but found she didn't know how to respond. No one had ever asked her that before. They usually didn't care what kind of history she liked, they just wanted her to finish ranting and shut up.

"Uh, everything?" she said, giving a nervous laugh. "I mean, when I was younger, I used to read a lot about, like, World War II and that era because I heard so many stories from my aunt, but I just love learning about history in general, I think it's absolutely fascinating."

"That's awesome!"

As they moved on from the Unisphere and continued along the path, Maggie and Peter fell into step. Maggie had to walk a little faster to keep up with him, but she found herself not even caring. Peter asked her more questions about her history obsession, and the conversation cycled lazily through a number of topics—what they each liked to learn about, their favorite movies and television shows. Peter explained the perfect way for the Mets to make it to the World Series and win it all, even despite their average record so far that season. Maggie talked his ear off about the classical composers she'd been studying before she left for New York.

As the morning went on, Maggie felt herself coming out of her shell more and more. Talking to Peter was so easy. He listened intently while she spoke, laughed at her dumb jokes, and waited until she was finished before adding his own thoughts. It was… nice. Different, but a good different, she thought.

Daisy trailed behind them, glowering at their backs, probably thinking of ways to get rid of Maggie without May noticing.

"Hey, check it out!"

Peter had stopped walking. Maggie glanced back to find him standing in front of the entrance to a massive open-air amphitheater. Where other parts of the park looked just like they did when they were built, the amphitheater had not been so meticulously maintained. Vines curled around the stone pillars that flanked the center aisle. The leather seats were cracked and faded from years of sun exposure. Down the ramp, large chunks of the stage had caved in and the dark curtains set along the back were shredded beyond recognition.

"This is insane," Peter marveled. "I can't believe this is still here. This is where they had all the big presentations during the Stark Expo a few years ago."

Maggie wandered over to the pillar on the right, letting her fingers run over what little of the smooth stone wasn't covered by greenery.

"We were there, you know," he told her. "Me and Daisy. It was super last minute. We got to skip school and check out all the neat inventions and stuff, it was super cool. Except the part where the Hammer Industries drones went crazy, but you know—"

"Yeah…" Maggie said absently, her gaze lingering on the decrepit stage. I know, she added silently. I was there.

"You ready, Mags?"

Happy's breath tickled against her ear as he crouched behind her, his hands on her small shoulders. Maggie nodded. She knew what to do. They'd practiced it over and over again. She knew exactly what to say.

She was going to make her daddy so proud.

Maggie watched him from her spot behind the curtain side stage. He was perfect out there—confident, handsome, charismatic. He knew exactly what to say to get the crowd laughing. Maggie had already decided that she wanted to be just like him when she grew up.

"Speaking of legacy," Daddy said, "I'd like to introduce a very special part of my own legacy. She's the future of Stark Industries and the cutest damn seven-year-old you ever did see—ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, my daughter, Margaret Stark!"

Happy let his hands drop from her shoulders. Maggie bounded onto the stage, her snow-white dress fluttering behind her. Daddy spun toward her with a huge smile on his face. Jumping into his open arms, Maggie waved at the audience as he settled her on his hip to deafening applause.

Grinning broadly, she gathered up her confidence and announced, "Making a special guest appearance from the great beyond, please welcome my granddad, Howard Stark!"

The audience cheered again. The lights on stage dimmed as a video was projected onto the wall behind them, and her dad walked her over to the wings. Maggie couldn't stop smiling. She did it! And she hadn't messed up one bit. Daddy was going to be so proud of her, she just knew it.

As Granddad's voice rang through the amphitheater, his face a hundred feet tall, Daddy lowered her onto the ground in front of Happy without a word. He stepped away from them, head bent low. One of the workers unhooked the microphone from his collar while another did the same for Maggie. Any second now. It was going to happen.

Daddy shook his head, shoved something in his pocket, and made his way over to the set of metal doors that led out of the theater.

Maybe he'd say it at home, then.

"Hey, great job, kiddo!" Happy said, gathering her in his arms. He lifted her in the air, holding her tightly, and raised his hand. "You were awesome!"

Maggie beamed and returned the high-five. "Thanks, Uncle Happy!"


They stopped to eat their food from Delmar's at a park bench beside a beautiful lake in the middle of the park. Meadow Lake, Peter had called it. From where they sat, they had a perfect view of the path that followed the perimeter of the lake, the paddle boats cutting through the water, and the high rises of the city across the park. Joggers and bikers passed by in both directions as the three of them unwrapped their sandwiches. Peter watched Maggie take her first bite of her sandwich with an eager grin.

"Oh, damn, that's good!" she said.

Peter laughed. "I told you!"

"Wow, good for you, Peter," Daisy said dryly. "You're a real fortune teller, huh?"

Peter glared at his sister, but said nothing. Maggie didn't think ignoring her was going to help much, though. She'd tried that plenty of times with the team when they got super pissy for no reason, and it never usually ended well; she'd learned the hard way that a grouchy Wanda was a scary Wanda.

They were quiet for a while. Maggie licked a bit of honey mustard from her fingers, savoring the sweet taste. She understood why New Yorkers were so serious about their bodega things, it really was a damn good sandwich.

"So, Maggie," Peter said as he dove into the plastic bag full of napkins, "you said you learned Spanish and English at the same time?"

She nodded around her bite of food and swallowed. "Pretty much everybody spoke English with me except tia, but all the time I spent with her made up for it."

"Tia, that's your… aunt?" he guessed.

"The literal translation is aunt, yeah, but we weren't related," Maggie explained. "Tia was my nanny."

Daisy snorted. "You have a nanny?"

"I had a nanny," said Maggie, "but she doesn't work for us anymore."

Peter's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why'd you need a nanny?"

"My dad wasn't around a whole lot when I was little," she admitted. "Tia stayed at the house and watched me when he was away for business." And for parties and drinking and sex, she added in her head, but she wasn't going to say that.

"What about your mom?" Peter asked. "Couldn't she watch you?"

"I don't have a mom," Maggie said, quiet, but matter of fact.

There was a beat of painfully awkward silence. Peter's eyes went wide, and he scrambled to apologize. "I-I had no idea, I'm so sorry. I just thought 'cause you mentioned, back at Delmar's—"

Maggie waved away his apology and told him, "It's fine, Peter, don't worry about it. It's… complicated."

Complicated meaning it was still a sore subject. Complicated meaning Maggie didn't have the energy to explain everything to two complete strangers. For as long as she could remember, the whole "mom" thing had always been complicated, and it pained her to admit that, at this point, it felt like Pepper was no more her mom than her biological mother.

Peter seemed to sense her discomfort and changed the subject. "Do you know any other languages?"

"French, Italian, Russian, a fair amount of German, and a little bit of Japanese and Sokovian," she answered. "My granddad always stressed the importance of knowing more than one language, and it kinda rubbed off on my dad."

"That's so cool!" Peter said. "I wish I could speak a bunch of foreign languages, but I only know Spanish, and not even all that much. I mean, I can hold a decent conversation, but I'm nowhere close to fluent or anything, not like you or Daisy."

Maggie leaned past him to look at Daisy, surprise coloring her voice. "You're fluent in Spanish?"

"French, actually," she replied, her words clipped. She ripped off a piece of her sandwich and studied it before popping it in her mouth. "Not fluent, but I'm taking my last French class this year, thank god. French is so boring."

"I don't know about that," Maggie said, making a face. "French is a really pretty language. It's one of my favorites." An idea came to her suddenly—the olive branch that she could extend to Daisy. She smiled. "I can help you practice, if you want. Maybe if you have someone to talk with, it won't be so boring!"

That was half the fun of learning new languages, being able to practice with other people, and in their family, there was always someone to talk with. She and Natasha used to make fun of everyone in Russian; Steve had picked up French, German, and Italian during the war; Wanda taught her swear words in Sokovian; she and her father usually spoke in English, but sometimes they would switch to Spanish if it was just the two of them, or if they didn't want anyone else to hear.

Daisy gave her a side glance, then rolled her eyes and settled back against the bench. "I'd rather be bored."

Maggie's expression fell. Shoulders slumping, she faced forward on the bench and looked down at her sandwich, but her appetite had vanished. She could hear Peter and Daisy talking next to her, speaking in hushed voices.

"She was just trying to help, Daisy," he whispered.

"She was trying to show off," she fired back.

Maggie stood abruptly, letting the napkin in her lap flutter to the ground, refusing to look at either of them. She took off down the path, weaving between joggers with strollers and bikers. Running always helped her think when there was no piano around for her to play. It took her mind off of whatever was bugging her. And right now, it was Daisy.

She came to a stop and leaned against a large oak tree further along the trail to catch her breath. Maggie was so sure that her olive branch would work, that Daisy would see she wasn't trying to ruin her life or anything.

As her lungs opened up and her heart finally slowed, Maggie sat down at the base of the tree, pulling her knees to her chest. She tilted her head back and watched the sunlight drifting through the leaves above her. Maggie was so sick of second-guessing everything. She just wanted things in her life to make sense again.

"Maggie?"

Raising her head, she saw Peter jogging down the path. She let out a long sigh as she pushed herself to her feet. She was brushing the dirt off the bottom of her shorts when he came over.

"Knew I'd find you eventually," he said, though his features were still pinched with worry. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, hesitating. "I'm sorry about Daisy. I swear she's not usually like this, she just… I don't know."

"It's fine, Peter, really," Maggie said.

"No, it's not," he said, shaking his head. "Just because she's upset doesn't mean she should take it out on you. You don't deserve that." Peter let his hands drop and looked out over the water, sucking in a breath and letting it out sharply. "I just wish I knew how to help her."

Maggie had a feeling he wasn't just talking about her taking the guest bedroom, but she didn't want to pry. Still, she assured him, "You'll figure it out."

They were quiet for a moment, listening as squirrels chased each other through the brush and birds chirped happily in the branches overhead and children screamed in delight across the lake, the tiny waves in the water from the paddle boats glistening in the brilliant sunlight.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked finally, turning back to her. "I never even checked."

Doubt flowered in the pit of her stomach, but Maggie put on a winning smile worthy of the family name. "I'm always okay. That's my superpower."