"Steady, steady…" Wally warned me a week later as I held the 'unobtanium' container in my hand, about to pour it into another container.

"I know," I took a deep breath in and slowly poured it from the original container of the gun, to a glass beaker. Once it was empty, I let out that air in my lungs and relaxed. "Alright. That's one." I turned to Wally. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"But this could hurt you severely, and I won't be able to heal you like normal."

"I already told you, Andi. I'm going to do this." His green eyes bore into my chocolate ones.

"Alright, but if Linda yells at me, I am so blaming it on you." He chuckled slightly. I took an eye dropper from one of the drawers under the counter downstairs. I pinched it, and took about three droplets from the beaker. "Give me your hand."

Wally obliged and held his bare hand out. I squeezed the liquid out, and all three drops fell onto his palm. Immediately, a small hole began burning its way through his flesh.

"OH GOD!" He groaned as part of his palm began deteriorating. He grasped his own wrist and forced it down to the table, not wanting any air movement making it sting.

I stood there, watching him writhe in pain, trying to come up with an idea. Any idea. "Wally? Can I try something?"

"Only if it takes away the pain." He hissed through clenched teeth.

Without a second thought, I bit my finger hard enough to make it bleed. I forced two or three drops of blood out of my right ring finger into the hole. Seconds later, his pain had subsided, and the hole was healing. Wally stared at his hand, absolutely fascinated at the sight of the hole sewing itself up.

Okay, approach him gently. "Wally?"

"What?" He cradled his hand, lightly pressing the place where the hole once existed.

"I'm really, really sorry."

"I know." He mumbled.

"I'm not going to do anything else to you, I promise." I hugged him, and he sighed in relief as he hugged me back.

"How do you do it, Andi?" Wally asked, keeping me close to him. "How do you handle all the pain, all the time?"

I shrugged. "You kind of get used to it after a while." He looked slightly confused, so I digressed some. "I mean, I'm not surprised anymore when I get shot, or stabbed, or things like that. Yeah I still feel it…I'm just so used to it happening that I really don't care anymore."

"So," Wally started; that glint returning. "If I took this pen," He grabbed one of the click-e pens from the desk and twirled it around between his fingers. "and jabbed it right into your arm, you wouldn't care?"

I shook my head as I prepared another solution. "Probably not."

Wally smirked as he looked at his once injured hand and flexed it for me. "See, now that's interesting."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The skittles were all mixed in the Christmas themed glass dish. It's March. Under that dish was dark brown coffee table with a glass top. On the floor was the ugliest beige rug I had ever seen, and I've seen quite a few of them. The worst part of all: was that everything matched. The walls, the sofas, the two chairs, the rug on the stairs, the entire living room (and probably the whole house) was that dark brown and beige. The sad thing is, this isn't the first home I've been to that's had this exact color scheme.

"Are you excited to move in, Andi?" The man across from me grabbed his wife's hand and smiled.

"So excited."I put on a fake smile and they raved.

"Fantastic. Molly," He turned to his wife. "Why don't you show Andi around the house, and I'll take care of the paperwork?"

She smiled brightly. "Of course." She stood up, came over to the other sofa, and held her hand out for me. "Just wait until you see your room."

I reluctantly took it, and was led upstairs, leaving the voices of Mr. Parrish and the Social Worker behind. "Is my room white, too?" I asked innocently while we walked down the hall.

She chuckled. "Well, it is right now, but we can always paint it if you want. Maybe a nice chocolate color." Molly mused when she opened the door.

My mouth dropped. The entire room was white: The bed post, the sheets, curtains, carpet, walls, dresser, etc. What is the matter with these people? Do they not know of any other colors?

"Well? What do you think?" She asked.

"Awesome." I hate these people. I can't live with them. How is it that the only color is a bowl of skittles? As soon as that bowl is empty, I'm out of here. I don't care what that stupid Social Worker says, I can take care of myself.

Molly knelt down next to me. "What's your favorite color?"

I hadn't really thought about it before. I've always worn what people have bought me, regardless of color. I looked down at the sweater I was currently wearing, "Green."

Her face lit up. "Green goes great with brown! Oh, as soon as we get you moved in I am going to create the greatest color pallet…" She trailed off with a smile on her face, because her husband and the Social Worker appeared in the doorway.

"I hope you don't mind, but I brought your bag in from the car." Mr. Parrish set it down in front of the dresser. He smiled that very preppy smiled that Lance always told me to beware of.

I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest. "I-I could've gotten it."

"Hey," He knelt down in front of me and touched my shoulder. "We're going to care of you here. Don't worry."

I'm worried. "I don't like being touched." I whispered and he took his hand from my shoulder.

"Do you like hugs?" Holly asked. "We are a hugging family."

I shook my head. "No."

"What about sleepovers? Because as soon as you make some friends you can have sleepovers."

"No." I responded in the same monotonous tone.

They looked at each other in question. "What do you like to do, Andi?" Mr. Parrish asked.

Lance asked me that once…I didn't have an answer. "You don't want to know."

"Of course we do."

Just tell them what Lance taught you. "I like to run." That made everyone smile.

"Well that's not a bad thing. When you get older you can join the track team." Everyone laughed, everyone was happy.

"Andi," Holly said with a large smile. "Welcome Home."

Maybe for the next week or so, but there is no way in hell that I'm staying any longer than that.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

My eyes opened, I took large breath through my nose, and I was awake. I was sitting at the desk, my head resting on my fist, my arm holding my head up. I looked around, my mind slowly becoming aware of my surroundings.

"What time is it? Fuck, how long have I been out?" I said to myself as I rubbed my eyes.

"A while. You know you talk in your sleep?" I spun the wheelie chair around and groaned.

"I thought Flash told you to leave." If he starts preaching to me again, I'm going to flip.

Fury stood up from the couch in front of the television and came over to the desk.

"Flash isn't here right now. And it's time for us to talk."

"Dude, I'm really tired, can we do this another time?"

He sighed. "Actually, we can't. Look, we both know that you're not going to get anywhere with that hunk of metal without S.H.I.E.L.D. So why don't you let us help you out."

"No."

"Why not? I don't understand why you hate us so much? You're just like us."

I shook my head. "I'm nothing like you. Your little agency is made up of people who have nowhere else to go. I have a family, and a 'S.H.I.E.L.D.' of my own which is made up people that I actually trust and get along with. Why would I ever be your employee when I can be theirs?"

"Because I can cure you. I have the resources to take away your mutation."

He's lying echoed in my head.

"You're lying."

"Am I? That liquid there-"

"I call it Cutonium."

"Fine. That 'Cutonium' is the secret. But I guess you already knew that."

"Of course I did. Do I look stupid to you?"

"You look young."

"Young isn't a synonym for stupid."

"Whatever. All I'm saying is that you should let us help."

"I'm sorry, I've already promised my services to another company. You can try again next century though." I added a little smile at the end.

Fury sighed and headed for the stairs. "Don't come crying to me when you fail."

"I don't fail."