The Greatest Showman - This Is Me

Imagine Dragons - Bad Liar

Robyn - Dancing On My Own

Ella Henderson - Ghost

The Killers - Mr. Birghtside

Florence & The Machine - Shake It Out

Taylor Swift - Shake It Off

Chapter 12: Mister Brightside

When Tony first met Holly, he'd never given any real thought to keeping her out of the news. No one knew she was his daughter save his lawyers when they changed his will, and some of the people at the school. Everyone who knew was either trustworthy or too well paid to risk their job on gossip.

Tony could throw money at certain problems and then there were problems that defied him. Like reporters and the news. After several hours of trying to pull every string he could without success, Tony tossed his cell phone down with disgust. The Times article was going to run Thursday morning. By the end of the day Thursday there would be tabloid articles dragging every miniscule part of Holly's life into the light.

"Do you know what was in the letter?" He asked his daughter.

Holly, from her spot on the floor with the twins, shook her head. "Mom and I sent you a few over the years." Jamie held out the soft blue block to his mother who took it gently from him with bare fingers. "Daddy took the red one home with him. We'll get it this weekend." She handed him back the blue one.

If he'd been in a different state of mind, Tony would have been much too amused at the fact that his daughter was probably the only person on the planet that could literally understand a baby.

"We need to get ahead of this Tony." Pepper told him gently.

Ahead of it. "We don't know what was in the letter."

"There are the obvious things that the reporters will dig up. Holly's birth certificate, for one. The math won't be too difficult from there. For another, if Dale Harper's former employers release the information, it won't be too hard to find out that you and Rose were both in Santa Cruz at the same time. The conclusions they draw will be damaging to both you and Rose's memory."

Tony, grimacing, rubbed his temple. "I hate PR."

Pepper reached over and gently squeezed his other hand. "And that is why I still work for Stark Enterprises." She took her phone in one hand, pulling up her list of contacts. "I can call a press conference for tomorrow morning. There will be a lot of questions about you, Holly. The assumption that you're going to be the heir to the Stark fortune and companies will be the biggest part of it."

If only that were true. "There are bigger things. My mutation for one, your engagement for another, my marriage falling apart for three, and any combination of those. Then there's my skipping past most of elementary school to start high school before I was even a teenager. The fact that I teach at an all mutant school. The fact that I voluntarily committed myself to a psychiatric ward for years." Holly breathed out and in and fought hard against the desire to cry. "And the horrible little bastards I went to high school with who played tag the freak. They're going to come out of the woodwork like termites."

Tony joined his daughter and his grandsons on the floor. Carefully putting one arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry Hol."

"For what?"

He squeezed her shoulder. "For not being there."

Holly leaned her head against him. "You're here now dad."

His thirty year old daughter. She calls him dad.

Who knew what kind of damage could get done with journalists snooping through her life? Holly went through her contacts and scrolled until she hit Storm's name, double tapped and waited for the ringing to stop. It went to voicemail. Damn she was probably in class. Holly tried Beast next. His rang then went to voicemail as well. Damn, damn, damn. Reluctantly, because she was still angry with him for not warning her about marrying two men in one body, Holly called Professor Xavier's office line. She prayed his would go to voicemail too.

It did not.

"Holly," the Professor said her name with a touch of what sounded like a mix of relief and something else she couldn't quite place. "How are you?"

Angry. Upset. Nervous. A few seconds from the threshold of scared. "Charles," she winced, never once had she ever called him by anything other than Professor Xavier. "I...someone claims to have found one of the letters my mother and I sent my father. They took it to a journalist who called me for confirmation that it is real. If they have my phone number then they know where I used to live and work." They would know who she was married to. Separated from. God this could get bad.

"Ah," he said, "you needn't worry Holly. As an employee on sabbatical you're entitled to confidentiality."

Sabbatical. Storm and Beast assured her they'd take care of her leave of absence and the exit paperwork. That's why Holly was going there this coming weekend to sign everything. Holly sighed slowly and tiredly. "Thank you."

"I'm sure Ororo would not be opposed to allowing a fog bank to settle over the school should any reporters arrive."

God. Paparazzi. Holly's head fell back against the wall. "I'm sorry."

"Never apologize for something you cannot control Holly."

Holly would probably never say it out loud, but sometimes the Professor had this magical ability to make it feel like everything would work out. Like a grandparent.

"I hope this doesn't deter you from coming to the school this weekend. I know several of the children are eager to see you."

And he knew just how to apply that parental/grandparental guilt too.

"I'm going to try."

If he thought he was being subtle about avoiding Holly, Steve realized he was wrong about two seconds after opening his apartment door Wednesday evening. Holly held up a DVD case. "Want to watch the sixth..." she took in his appearance, the black suit, crisp off white shirt and dark blue pinstripe tie. It picked up the blue in his eyes.

Once more, probably for the 1000th time, Holly noted that Steve happened to be a very good looking man. "Shiny duds. Party?"

This morning, after about an hour of deliberation, he asked Ashley the waitress if she would like to go out with him. Her bright blue eyes lit up looking back at him, while she flushed a soft shade of pink and smiled shyly.

She bit her lower lip and gave him her phone number and address. He was borrowing one of Tony's cars to pick her up.

"I have a date." He told Holly while adjusting his tie. It felt a little tight. Seemed perfect a moment ago.

"A date." She echoed. On a Wednesday night? "Oh...cool." She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Movie nights with Steve were fun. He (unknowingly) went through a series of emotions whenever he watched something new. Even half asleep Sunday morning, Holly still took a little pleasure out of knowing he was fascinated by the change in animation and storytelling achieved by Disney in modern times.

But then… he really did deserve to go out and have some fun. Meet someone who at least looked like she was his age. Lord knows Holly didn't envy him the dating scene.

Plastering on a smile, it wasn't her fault it wasn't real, Holly said, "Have fun and, um, just remember us modern girls, we're a little different from the ladies of 1940's. Second and third wave feminism changed a few things. Like bras aren't practically small corsets anymore and underwear is a lot more fun than functional." Stop babbling Holly. "And hose, they go all the way up to the waist now so the whole garter thing is no longer a thing unless she's trying to impress you. And saying thing when you mean a thing. That's a thing." You're babbling Holly. "Here, sorry," she held out the DVD case to him. "I should go before I scare you off dating." Holly attempted to laugh at herself, instead coming off sounding nervous.

He took the movie from her, carefully avoiding touching her bare hands. Steve noticed that lately, at least around him, she had begun to forget her gloves. "Thank you Holly."

"Sure. No problem. Um…," awkwardly Holly took a couple of steps backward until she was standing in the hall again and not his doorway. "Have fun. Really. Okay?"

Steve smiled in return. "I'll try."

He did try.

He tried to have fun on his date with Ashley. He honestly did.

If someone had asked Ashley (which her friends and roommate did about ten seconds after she texted everyone she was home safe at 9:30 pm) Steve was the perfect gentleman. He held doors, helped her with her chair, he was sweet, funny, handsome. He ticked all the right boxes. Except...maybe, Ashley got this feeling when he mentioned his friend Holly who making him a reading list. Like maybe he wasn't available.

Her friends and roommate of course dismissed the idea. She's married and he's out with you.

Had they been at the Stark Tower, around 9:55 when Steve returned to the habitat floor, they might have seen him pause at his front door. He picked two books up from where they were neatly leaned against the wood. Dune and Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. There was a dark blue post-it note attached to Dune.

Hope your date was fun! In Holly's neat script. I love this book. I hope you will too. Let me know when you finish it and we'll watch the mini series.

Steve ran his fingers over the worn, creased and curled front cover of the paperback. There were dogeared pages and a few of them had writing in the margins. Holly's handwriting, faded and cramped in pencil. She loaned him her personal copy.

For a moment, Steve had the overwhelming desire to go knock on Holly's door. The boys were probably asleep by now. He held the book for much longer than he should have once he was in his suite.

Little did he know, if he gave in to the feeling he should go next door and knock, Steve would have initiated a series of events that would've ended in him marrying Holly on Halloween in a few years.

Instead he took out his phone. With a few swipes he navigated to his email. To Fury's email. The book felt heavy in his other hand. Steve read and reread the email. A moment later he set his phone aside and took the book with him to bed.

To say Wednesday into Thursday morning was long would have been an understatement. In the morning the nervous pit in Holly's stomach wouldn't stop reminding her shit had hit the fan and flown everywhere. Threads of tightly wound fear and anxiety made their way through each and every vein in her body. She tapped her toes, bounced her knees, and fought not to chew on her lower lip.

If only not to ruin her lipstick.

Instead she busied herself with trying to look like Doctor Harper. With a PhD in Classical Literature, Pepper and Holly's father wanted to make sure Holly was addressed properly. Doctor Harper. She tugged on the uncomfortable suit jacket one of Pepper's many assistants had gone out to buy one expensive store or another. Thankfully she could wear one of her own dress shirts underneath.

Last time she wore this one, a sage green button down tucked into a black pencil skirt, she was on her first day back from maternity leave. What a difference a year makes. Holly breathed out slowly, and held there for a moment.

Pepper told her there would be a lot of questions. Being Tony Stark's daughter, warranted a lot of questions. Being Tony Stark's illegitimate daughter who was conceived when he was a teenager with an equally young teenage girl would be a huge focus for some reporters. Her mutation would be another focus. Her marriage and children, another.

"Expect the unexpected questions," Pepper gently coached her. "Your father is going to try to steer the questions away from you."

The press conference would be at two thirty pm Thursday afternoon. Her father said people were always less grumpy and aggressive after lunch. Wearing his eggplant shirt, a white and silver paisley tie, black suit and dress shoes he looked every bit the genius billionaire philanthropist.

Holly, once more looking down at herself didn't feel like the daughter of the man standing four feet to her left. The black Manolo Blancs Pepper sent one of her handful of assistants out to buy this morning gave her the look, but not the feeling.

Biologically, yes, Tony was her father. He is where her hair color came from, and the darker skin tone than her mother, and other parts of her physical appearance. Some part of his personality had to be in her, didn't it?

"Breathe Hol." Her dad said, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "Breathe. One hour and this is over."

One hour. Sixty minutes. 3600 seconds. Jesus Christ. Her hands were this close to shaking.

Her hands. Holly could have almost laughed at herself if she hadn't been so nervous. "Dad," she turned to him, "think I can borrow some of that confidence of yours?"

It was kind of adorable how thoroughly confused he looked.

The press would never know that Holly's nosebleed was the reason she and her father were fashionably late.

Not a single television station without coverage there, CNN, MSNBC, ABC, Holly counted the logos. Holy hell. BBC America too. The borrowed courage from her father went out the window. All of the local newspapers, Newsday, the Times, the Post.

After the initial round of an astounding number of camera clicks, thank god flash photography was a thing of the past, and some posing with her father, Holly and her father sat down. No table between the press and her. She breathed out and in again and tried to remember, they walked out five minutes late and they were already two minutes in.

Fifty three more minutes to go.

Breathe Holly. Breathe.

Her father ran interference for another handful of minutes by taking the questions about him with some playful banter. "Thor already congratulated me on youthful virility."

A round of laughs from the reporters.

"Miss Harper."

"Doctor Harper." Holly corrected without a thought. She tried to soften it with a small smile. "Besides, I am a married woman." She held up her left hand, her wedding ring and engagement ring displayed on bare fingers. She had to hold the mic earlier to get used to it.

"But you still go by Doctor Harper?"

"Have you ever tried to get your degree converted to your married name? It's worse than going to the DMV."

Several more laughs around the room.

"Doctor Harper," a woman in a pure black suit, with a sharply angled blonde asymmetrical bob stood up.

Holly recognized her from her father's memories as a former conquest.

"How old were you when the letter was written?"

Borrowing a page from her father. "I believe the letter says I was eight. Nineteen ninety one, minus the year I was born, nineteen eighty three, yep." She popped the P in yep, "Eight years old."

The blonde, either put out by the lack of catching Holly in a lie or embarrassed by the implication she hadn't simply done the math, decided to keep up with the prodding. "And your mutation."

There were a handful of clicks from cameras.

Breathe Holly. Breathe. "Psychometry."

"The dictionary definition of that ability states the supposed ability to discover facts about an event or person by touching inanimate objects associated with them." She read from her notepad. "Would that be accurate?"

With a smile others would later call similar to her father's condescending one, Holly held out her hand. "Want me to tell you what you ate for breakfast this morning?"

The reporter hesitated.

"Of course, I'm going to see the rest of your life too. Every moment. Anything you've ever done." Holly held out her bare hand, tips of her fingers curled just slightly. "But come on up if you really want to know."

The reporter didn't move.

"My mutation isn't supposed, and I ask everyone I touch to be okay with it before I touch them. Consent is a big part of life for me and those who know me"

Another reporter stood up. "My younger sister has a mutation as well. Thank you for being open about it."

"How old is she?"

"Fourteen."

"Is she coping well?"

"Her hair is now naturally bright orange, and she swears she can hear our mother's cat speaking English."

"Cool. I'd love to meet her. I can understand animals too. They can't understand me of course."

More laughing around the room.

"I...thank you. I'm sure she would love that."

"But you had a question."

"How did you handle the bullying?"

Holly frowned, and then sadly said, "The other, older kids in my high school didn't take my age and mutation kindly." She touched the right back side of her head. Own it. Use it. "I still have the scar from when they played tag the freak and I ended up in the emergency room."

Pens scratched across paper furiously.

Another reporter stood, pencil in the air. "Doctor Harper?"

Holly's gaze caught the ornamental watch Pepper had loaned her for the press conference. Twenty minutes down. Forty to go.

After this week, we all needed a chapter.

Reach out if you need to. My insta is TruthChaosSandra.