Meara stands at the worn out, red door to her home and some how it looks unfamiliar. She reaches a hand to grasp the handle, but stops, suddenly not wanting to go inside to face the music. It would be a rotten tune. She takes a step back, her feet ache. The entire walk home was spent listening to Travis' voicemail, not noticing the pain in her changing feet until now. She looks down and flexes them in Travis's boots and sighs. He never ignores her calls but she doesn't blame him, even with this curse of a mutation she wasn't able to help him. He probably cut himself free, no thanks to her, and drove his stupid boat home to tell the whole group about her. She can imagine them all sitting around a fire cursing her name. Even they haven't been trying to get a hold of her. No one but her dad calling her, no one but him really caring if she was okay. Feeling so useless and undeserving of even her father's angry speech he is sure to unload on her, she turns and begins to walk away. Thinking about just staggering into the ocean and staying there, but then she hears the door creak open.
"Meara." Her father's voice cuts the silence like a jagged knife. She stills, frozen in place. Then her eyes start to water, how can her body produce more tears when she feels so dry. She spins around to see him, pulling down her hood and scrambling at the scarf clinging to her neck. It feels more like a noose then a disguise. Finally exposing her face, she looks to her father, though even with her mutation slowly fading from her features, her state is nothing compared to him. He looks like he hasn't slept or eaten since she left him last night. His hair looking more grey and in tangles, his eyes sunken in and a very fierce looking scowl taking over his features. The fact that she is the cause of this makes her start to sob and she runs towards him, never needing a hug from her dad more in her life. She collides with him and he embraces her, scrambling to hold her tight like she might slip through his arms. He clutches her head firm against his chest, murmuring soft pleas for her to quiet her weeping as her tears soak into his shirt. He backs up and tugs her into the house, the heavy door shutting behind them. They stay like this a moment until Meara's cries slowly begin to fade. He reluctantly pulls her away from him, holding her face in his hands and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He has a sorry look on his face. Meara's brow knots. She is the one who should be sorry, not him.
"We have a guest here," he states shakily.
There it is. Twenty-six years of her fathers' strict security measures falling to the way-side in one night. Because of her stupidity and recklessness, she let herself be seen. Anxiety is building inside of her, her eyes clamber over her father's face trying to figure out any bit of information on who is invading their home. Her nostrils flare as she begins to pant short shallow breaths. The feeling of her fight or flight instincts are overwhelming. She unknowingly grips her father's raggedy, plaid sweater thinking someone is going to rip her away from him. He rubs her arms softly, trying to calm her down.
"Shh, it's okay darlin', no one is gunna take you away," he searches her face for any sign of contentment. "Hey, look at me." Meara's eyes lock with her fathers, pleading for help. "Everything is gunna be okay, alright?" she nods in response. Even though she is ruining all those years her father put in to keep her safe, he forgives her in an instant. His worst fear is coming to light and he tells her, everything will be alright. A feeling of safeness cloaks her. Like a child clinging to her parents when they are afraid of the first day of school. He reaches for her hand and squeezes it as he gently guides her to the kitchen.
Two men, clad in black suites, stand straight, pillaring the sink. They seem faceless. Wearing blank expressions like masks and looking like exact copies of each other, it's very unsettling. Unfortunately for Meara, it's not S.H.E.I.L.D or Stark that has come for her, like her father has expressed fear of, but what she was most nervous of. The government. She sees a man sitting at the table out of her peripheral, her eyes drift down to his hands. He is drinking tea out of her favourite mug, bastard. She turns to face him, looking down her nose trying her best to look intimidating. If this stranger has just found her now, he wont know the full extent of her powers. He takes a sip of tea, Meara silently wishes it would burn his tongue, as it swishes around in his mouth. He stands in front of her, she searches his impervious expression for any leaking of information, it's like reading a brick wall. His mustache so thick that it covers his whole upper lip and a fury of creases lines his forehead as if to map out years of hindrances. His hair a salty grey and perfectly coifed, the air of importance surrounding him. He offers her a pitiful bland smile, but it only helps to anger her further. How dare this man, try to ruin the life that her father is constantly trying to keep hidden from men like him. He offers his hand to her and she raises her chin in silent protest.
"You look so much like your mother," his voice rough, a sad memory floating to the surface of his face, giving her something to read.
Grief. Meara's eyes widen.
"Pardon?" shock and disbelief thick in her speech.
"Yes she does," her father's weary tone cuts into Meara's and the stranger's moment. "Meara, this is Thaddeus Ross, Secretary of State." she lowers her chin and finally takes his hand to shake it. The need to ask more about her mother building like peak of a rollercoaster.
"How did you know her … my mother?" she asks hurriedly.
Thaddeus sniffs a chuckle. "We used to work together years ago, me, your mother," he pauses and nods his head towards her father, "and Rowan." He smiles.
Meara looks to her father, his face lethargic but a smile teases the corners of his lips. "Why didn't you tell me this?" she asks her father.
"Confidential." He states, smile fading.
"Nothing is confidential any more," Thaddeus half laughs. "after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D, Black Widow uploaded files for the world to see, though we tried our best to protect your family's integrity and it unfortunately didn't work." He returns to his seat, gesturing for Meara to sit as well. She takes the seat across from him. Thaddeus continues. "Although, unknown to us Rowan, you had a secret of your own." His eyes never leave Meara.
"I thought it best to keep her safe, so she can lead a normal life," her father answers, deciding not to sit but to stand beside his daughter, hands diving into his pockets.
"Well I'm not here to parent," he sighs, "just to inform you that a family witnessed your … shall I say, transformation along the beach this morning along with a young man contacting the police."
Heat rises to Meara's cheeks, how could she have been so foolish. Thaddeus watches as pink colours her face and quickly juts in to stop the shade from darkening. "No need to worry though, we stopped the distribution of the video, debriefed Boston PD and took over their 'investigation'. Your secret is safe, although your fathers' is in jeopardy. The world is after your old project."
"How did you find us?" Mears asks.
Thaddeus takes another sip of his tea. "When I saw the video, I knew I recognized those abilities." he replies.
A look of confusion runs over Meara's face. She bites the inside of her cheek and leans forward. "Have you seen me turn before?"
"Of course not, your father was very successful in keeping you in the dark." He pauses, "Where did you think you got them from?" his eyes lift to Meara's father standing beside her. His expression hardens.
Meara shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her father keeping secrets from her as well. His arms leave the confines of his pockets to cross in front of his chest, daring Thaddeus to continue with his speech. With no answer coming from both of them, Thaddeus closes his eyes and tilts his head. He lets out a breath in dramatic fashion, opening his eyes slowly to meet Meara's and her father stiffens beside her. Before Thaddeus can open his mouth to find the right words, her father practically throws them at her.
"You got them from your Mother, Meara." A look of regret instantly swims across her father's face. He let Thaddeus get to him.
The words hit her like a train going a hundred miles an hour, almost knocking the air from her lungs. It makes her feel dizzy as she rubs her forehead. Her father puts a hand on her shoulder and it helps steady her. Realization sinks in, she knows what was said, but she needs to hear it again. "What?" was all she could muster, practically breathless.
Thaddeus sighs. "I do hope I haven't crossed a line here Rowan, I naturally assumed …" he trails off leaning back in the chair.
Rowan is still. "I thought it best to keep … certain information from her."
"It seems you kept a lot from me," Meara interjects. Finally finding the courage to lift her head to look at her father. His jaw clenching at her statement, she could tell his mind is reeling. "what …abilities did mum have? What 'old' project is he talking about? Like … this is too much…"
"Your mother had similar gifts," he answers, "which she passed to you in child birth," his eyes darting down apologetically, she knew she isn't going to get much more out of him, which is unfair.
"What about the project?" She continues.
Thaddeus clears his throat, Meara's eyes return to him. "I apologize for anything I might have … agitated. Please let me explain my visit," he looks to Meara, making sure to have her full attention. He does. "As you might have seen on the news, The Avengers unit now runs as a collective unit under the supervision of the United Nations. We call this solution, The Sokovia Accords. Within it, all enhanced individuals, such as yourself, must register under the law of the consensus."
"My daughter, will not, become a soldier for you to throw at internal problems." Her father's tone more serious.
"That is not my point Rowan, don't take my coming here as anything less than friendly. I came here personally to let you and Meara know that the Accords must be honoured." Thaddeus retorts.
"No." Rowan interjects. "You want her wearin' a spangly outfit," he pulls his shirt out from his chest and it slaps back against him, as if to solidify his point. "with a shield and a hammer, flyin' 'round in the sky fightin' bad guys."
Thaddeus composes himself. "The enemies of the Avengers are global threats. By law I simply require her to register so the U.N may track all citizens with superior abilities. She is free to continue to live out her life how she chooses, whether she desires to join initiative or not, is up to her."
"Are you sure you're not here to force her hand?" her father questions.
"Of course not, you know me Rowan, I'm simply here to offer her help in learning about her talents. A safe, free space to fully explore and control them, a program that measures up to professor x's school." Thaddeus answers.
Meara ponders this a moment, the voices of her father and Thaddeus politely arguing over her next course of action stifle, her internal monologue taking over. She fiddles with her hands, noticing the webbing no longer spreads between her fingers.
What should she choose? No doubt she has to register or else risk a jail cell, but, could this all be beneficial?
She picks at the remaining scales on her forearm. Thaddeus knows about her mother, more than her father willingly shares. Maybe he can tell her more, she is always begging her father to divulge further, but to no avail. Not to mention Thaddeus did say he put a stop to the video from circulating the internet and police, keeping her safe from anyone besides him finding out about her. Coming here personally, the Secretary of State is sure to have a schedule that is full enough.
She combs her fingers through her hair, squinting at the matted mess, her head beginning to ache from all of the thoughts filling her brain. Perhaps this is what she should be doing, her mother was working with Thaddeus before she died, it could be her legacy. Maybe she can use them for some insight on her powers, strengthen them. So next time, if someone needs help she could actually do something. She looks up blinking at the hanging light fixture, wondering what Travis is thinking about her. Yeah, next time she can save someone instead of failing.
"Travis is the one who saw me," Meara finally speaks, bringing her head back down. Both men fall silent, Thaddeus' eyebrows furrow and her father's hand tightens his grip.
"I assure you Meara, no one besides the three of us know of your gifts. I made sure of that personally." He replies sternly.
Meara sighs. Travis probably finds her disgusting now, or his brain got wiped, guessing just like the poor family and the pigs. This was all her doing and like a knight in shining armor, Secretary Ross comes in to save the day because she is too clumsy to stay hidden. "I'll register," she states firmly. "I'll sign and enter your program."
"Are ya sure darlin'? This isn't something you need to decide right away," her father looks down at her, silently trying to convince her to postpone this rash decision.
Thaddeus cuts in. "Rowan, all we're trying to do here is make the world a safer place, and help those who have been forced to suppress their full potentials."
"It's still a decision she is free to make on her own in time," Her father argues, putting emphasis on the free.
Meara chimes in. "He's right dad, I'm just making the right decision," she looks down while rubbing the backs of her arms. "Travis could have drowned last night and I was no help, even with my … abilities." She scoffs, oh the irony.
"Don't punish yourself," her father consoles.
She sighs. "I'm not. Maybe if you're … enhanced like me, you need to do something. We haven't even figured out the mind thing yet…" she looks at Thaddeus for a strange sense of reassurance. He gives her a woeful smile, seeming like he understood.
"Just don't want ya rushin' into anythin' Meara," her father's voice sounding sad.
"I'm not rushing," she replies. "It's about time I do something. All these years I've been trying to hide when I could have been helping people, like The Avengers do."
"I'm very happy to hear this Meara, your mother would be very proud." Thaddeus nods at her, it gives Meara a weird sense of pride. Although her father frowns at the statement, about ready to interject but Meara beats him to it.
"Thanks," She offers a smile, "but I do have a question." Her voice a little unsteady.
"Of course, I figured you would." Thaddeus takes another sip of tea and wipes his mustache with his hand.
"Uhm, about joining the … program."Her eyes shift about the room and she continues. "I don't think I'm cut out for it, I'm not like Captain America or any of those guys, I'm just some girl from Boston. A punk." once again, mentally hitting herself.
Thaddeus shakes his head while his lips twitch at a smile. "Yes, and Steve Rogers was just some boy from Brooklyn, but I believe you are made for it, just like he was."
She smiles. "I'm willing to try."
"Meara," her father interjects.
"We leave tonight, if of course your up for it?" Thaddeus jokes.
"Really?" Meara scrambles up from the table. "Let me grab my things," What does someone even take on a trip like this?
"Meara!" her father yells now, grabbing her arm and shaking her out of her thoughts. "Please think about this, I don't want ya gettin' hurt."
"I'll be there watching over her Rowan, making sure she is safe," Thaddeus offers.
"We all know how well that works out Thaddy," her father practically hisses. Meara misses what was said and grows irritable by his heavy grip on her.
"Dad!" Uncomfortable at her father's tone she shouts, this is a family friend after all. "Please, it's for the best." She unravels her father's fingers from her arm and gives him a stern frown.
Rowan's features soften, her mind is set.
Meara then provides him with a soft smile. "It could be fun, at least it's legal." She shrugs. His shoulders slump in defeat. He can always tell when there is no stopping her from doing what she wants. Meara turns away from her father and rushes to Thaddeus. She shakes his hand again, murmuring words of gratitude and runs up the stairs to her room to gather her things. The sound of Meara's heavy foot falls and shuffling about her room fall on the quiet kitchen
Rowan turns to Thaddeus, his eyes dark and angry. Through gritted teeth he threatens, "If anything happens to her, I'll kill ya." He hears the rustling of the men behind him, completely forgetting they were even there as they close in on him.
Thaddeus chuckles, standing up and straightening out his suit jacket. "Just know that if you try anything, that video might become more difficult to hide than anticipated."
Rowans fists unclench, Thaddeus has to many resources now, but there is still more he can do to keep his daughter safe. There is always something more he can do.