The next day, Victoria found her friend standing in front of their bathroom mirror, her face pale and reddish-brown hair frizzy. "Are you going to brush it?" She asked, holding back a laugh. "I mean, you look nice and all, but you should at least brush your hair."
Amelia clenched her jaw, unable to understand how Victoria could be so cheerful when Frederick's death was still a raw wound. "I will," she replied, forcing a smile as she smoothed down her white, crisp blouse and long black skirt. Then, as Victoria disappeared, she picked up her gray-blue hair brush and started to run it through her hair, gritting her teeth as the bristles tugged at the tangles.
Soon, she smoothed down her reddish-brown hair and pulled it back tight, wrapping a hair band around and keeping her hair in a nice ponytail. Amelia stared at herself in the mirror, almost unnerved about her appearance. She looked… beautiful. She hated it when she looked beautiful. Whenever she dressed nicely, she could feel the stares of many and it made her uncomfortable. Fighting back more tears, Amelia blinked her eyes quickly, somewhat relieved that Anne didn't make her wear makeup.
"Are you coming?" Victoria called and Amelia turned slowly, heading out on low wedges.
"Yeah," she mumbled and walked past her friend, heading out of their room. Before she could make it halfway down the stairs, she froze as a hateful gaze bore into her.
"Well, isn't it the assassin," Bradley hissed, leaning against the railing and glaring down at her.
Looking up, Amelia returned the glare and snapped, "Idiot, I am no assassin!"
"Right," he spat angrily. "I saw you give Frederick tea the day before he grew ill. It's your fault he's dead, you probably poisoned him!"
Amelia flinched from the venom in his voice, once again the tears forming. "I didn't kill him…" she choked out, shoulders trembling.
"Leave her alone, Bradley!" Victoria snarled with such intensity, Bradley stepped back in surprise. She gently rested her hands on her friend's shaking shoulders and murmured, "Keep walking and just ignore him."
Amelia forced her legs to work as she climbed down with Victoria behind her, the wedges clinking on the floor when she reached downstairs. "Good luck," Victoria whispered, giving her shoulders a soft squeeze before walking away. Taking a deep breath, Amelia trudged toward the room across from Frederick's office, pushing open the door and closing it behind her.
"Hello, sir," she said politely, hiding her surprise when she saw the African American had on an eye patch, just like that stranger told her.
"Hello," he replied, nodding to her. "You're Amelia, right?"
"I am." She sat down across from him, gazing at him steadily. "So, what do you want to know before you think of adopting me?"
The man blinked his one eye before inquiring, "Don't you want to know who I am?"
Amelia felt her face flush red with embarrassment, realizing her mistake too late. "Er, of course, sir."
The man chuckled and answered, "My name is Nick Fury." Nicky Fury… the name rang a bell but Amelia couldn't remember why the name was familiar. He carried on speaking. "Do you have any activities or hobbies?"
"Not really," she replied carefully, a feeling of nervousness worming her way from her gut to her heart. "I do like to go in a tree or on the roof to think, though."
Nick Fury nodded slowly, giving away no emotions. As the minutes carried on, he continued to ask Amelia simple questions which she complied to answer, such as if she had any allergies, and what her favorite food was. But then, he started to ask questions that started to hit home for her.
"Amelia, do you speak a different language?" Startled, Amelia couldn't form an answer so Nick Fury then added, "Like Russian?"
She stiffened, not meeting his gaze. "Why are you asking that?"
Nicky Fury leaned forward, tangling his fingers together as he faced her. "Answer my question. Do you speak Russian?"
Amelia swallowed, feeling uncomfortable with his gaze boring into her. "I do speak Russian; I take classes on it as well, even though I really don't need it." She blinked; stunned that she had just freely told him something she was sensitive about.
Nick Fury nodded slowly. "I see you also have the faint Russian accent… now tell me, do you practice fighting?"
Amelia stiffened even more, but couldn't control her reply. "I do."
"How did you get that scar?"
Amelia quickly moved her arm under the table. "Victoria and I were jumped."
Nick Fury nodded, his eye gleaming. "Now, I hear you have a fascination in the Avengers, anyone specific?"
"I respect all of them."
"What does the B in your name stand for? Is it Barton?"
Amelia clenched her fist, bones tight and stiff. "Why are you asking me these things," she whispered hoarsely, glaring up at him. Much to his credit, Nick Fury leaned back calmly.
"I would like to adopt you, and when I came I couldn't help but overhear some others talking."
Suddenly, she felt rage boil inside her and she tightened her jaw to keep from blurting out if he had heard them call her a spy or traitor. Standing up, she asked through gritted teeth, "Is that all?"
Nicky Fury stood as well and nodded, Amelia suddenly feeling small against his tall frame. "Yes it is. I hope you don't mind coming to live with me."
"Not at all," she growled, walking over to the door and opening it. "After you, sir."
Nick Fury thanked her and strode across the room, heading to Frederick's office where Anne was waiting. Amelia scowled and stormed upstairs, relieved to see Victoria absent, and pulled out her suitcase from the closet, starting to pack her things. She stopped when she felt the sac the strange man gave to her and she pulled it out. "You better keep your end of your promise," she whispered softly. Sighing, she tucked it into the front pocket of her suitcase, not noticing the hole in the bottom, and zipped it inside.
"Now to say good bye to everyone," she whispered, the tears falling once more down her face.