A/N: You guys are beautiful. Thanks for reading this random garbage! I'm so glad some of you are actually enjoying it :) I took a while off writing cuz I was dead tired and lacked inspiration, but I'm back in action now, because of some truly beautiful reviews. Chapter four, ahoy!

By the time I had bolstered myself up to face everyone again the groceries I had purchased were gone off the table, and there was a battered mini-fridge in the corner that they must have fixed up and used. The room was deserted of people again, however, and I could hear the welder going in the workshop. While outside I had taken the time to actually explore the area we were living in, and found it was nearly deserted except for a few particularly desperate squatters. Is that what we had been reduced to? Apparently.

What Aleks had said did make some measure of sense, and I wasn't denying it; we did need the money. I only had what I had saved over the years with brief casual jobs, and while I had been confident in my ability to make it stretch to cover expenses while I was here, my stint in the market proved yet again that I was too softhearted and naive for that. I would eventually need a plane ticket back to my home in China, too, and that was a prospect that looked fairly grim, along with many other things since I had come back. It was obvious that they couldn't stay where they were, this cruddy garage, and where would they hope to get the money for a new house? It would be especially hard with so many rendered homeless now, all needing to buy and driving the prices for housing through the roof I had noted after a brief skim of a real estate website on my phone. Unless Tony Stark himself started paying out for damages like he ought to, I just couldn't see how we would dig ourselves out of this hole.

I was getting seriously bummed out by my own company, and, if I knew myself at all, that could only mean bad things for the people around me. I could say the most cruel things when I was stressed. It didn't matter if I didn't mean them, a clever, angry mind always knew how to hit people where it hurt. Cutting that train of thought off, I pulled my hair into a band just to distract myself, and opened the fridge, looking over the things I had purchased, thinking hard. One gas burner, and one shoddy looking pan, and a hodgepodge of groceries. I had worked with worse.

"I come baring food!" I announced jovially as I pushed my way into the workshop, trying to change my attitude through shear willpower. Fake it 'til you make it, after all. Both my hands carried a plate of steamed vegetables and grilled chicken breast; considering what I had to work with I thought it was rather impressive, and definitely enough to get to the boys' hearts through their stomachs!

Aleks glanced up and scrunched up his face. "Are those vegetables? I do not want any." Or not.

I blinked, swallowed thickly, and plastered the exaggerated smile back on my face. "Eat the damn food or I swear next time it will be your skinny ass in the pan, dear brother," I replied in my best sickly sweet tone of voice.

"Katja, watch your language, and Aleks, you will eat the nice meal your sister made and you will like it," Atyets scolded the both of us like we were children again, taking one of the plates in his grease-blackened hands. It was just like before I left, when we functioned as a normal family. Well, function and normal were both on short supply, but we had our routine, we loved each other. It seemed that things really only fell apart when I stopped playing my part. It brought back the sadness I had been trying to ignore. And I wasn't good at hiding it, because as Aleks came to take his plate, he stopped and looked at me closely.

"What is wrong, sis?" A sudden look of terror entered his expression. "I was just joking about the veggies, you know! It looks delicious!" He picked up a head of broccoli and threw it into his mouth to prove his words, and his concern made me giggle and blink the trace of wetness in my eyes away.

"I'm fine, really," I reassured him, "I just really missed you guys." At that he brightened again, and pulled me into a one armed hug, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"We have missed you too. Things will be much better now that you are back home," Aleks replied warmly, while my father smiled at us from the ragged couch against the wall. I opened my mouth to remind him that I was only here on borrowed time, that I would be gone in less than a month, but then I closed it again. For once I didn't want to be the one to ruin the moment.

Speaking of ruining the moment. Realizing the missing factor, I looked around the room, confirming my suspicions, "Where the hell is Ultron?" Aleks moved away from me and looked to the ground, eating his food in silence. I looked at Pa for an answer. He shrugged.

"He needed to go out for something; he did not say what, only that he would be back this evening."

My mind reeled. I wanted to scream, How does none of this bother you? but instead I took a deep breath, and changed the subject. I would not be the one to start the next fight, not when we were slowly making progress. "Never mind. I hope you've got the television working, because I'm going to grab my food, and then I'm spending the next hour watching the crappiest soap on there." With those instructions I returned to the other room and picked up the third plate, now mostly cold. However, instead of heading back out there as I should have, I stared at the moldy butter-yellow paint and listened to my thoughts again.

My family thought that they were holding all the cards. They just didn't seem worried about any of this like they should be. All they saw was the fact that they thought they deserved all the good and Ultron deserved all the bad that would come out of this. Well, the robot probably did deserve it, but that didn't change what was right and what was wrong. Or did it? What was right in a situation like this?

There was one option that kept crawling to the forefront of my mind and then skittering away again. The more realistic part of me I knew that the 'right' thing would be to contact someone who could destroy the killer like they did before. Get in touch with the local authorities. There was more than one problem with that, though; first and foremost, I would be convicting my own family for harboring and assisting an international fugitive- unless I tried to lie to said officials, and something told me that would not work out well for me at all. And after all that, would I be able to sleep at night knowing I sent someone to their death, or worse, experimentation? Hell, I didn't care who they were, I didn't want that kind of baggage. So I'd veto that plan, then realize I was being selfish and irrational, and start the cycle again. It was enough to drive a girl mad.

Something told me that Ultron would be able to turn that into an innuendo. Nothing would surprise me at this point.

A fly buzzing by my ear brought me back to reality and I hurried to take my lunch back to where they were probably already waiting for me. Well, I was right about one thing, I noted as I saw them sitting on the couch and fixated on the banged-up-but-somehow-still-functional television. However, when I sat on the arm rest and saw what was playing on the screen, my requests for the remote died on my tongue.

A red banner near the bottom of the screen showed the bold words: 'PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT: CALL TO RETALIATION', and above it, the president. He was halfway through a sentence when I managed to focus on what he was saying.

"...vulnerable to this act of terrorism. When you create a weapon, and you use it on someone, it is not only one of terrorism, but an act of war. This destruction was American wrought, and their feeble words have not nearly eased our pain and loss. We will not forget that the gun than fired on us was held by those like Tony Stark, a lapdog of the American government. Now we, the Sokovian people, have the duty and the recompense of turning those very weapons on their senders." There was a pause in his speech, where he gazed coldly into the camera, causing ice to form in my veins. I just knew what was coming next.

"We have the duty to give all that we have to assist the war effort, including and especially any American technology or weaponry that has been recovered in the aftermath of this tragedy. Therefore we, Sokovia, ask all those able to come forth, and as long as there is ample support, conscription will not become mandatory. Thank you for your support."

The broadcast finished with a shot of the Sokovian flag, and the little voice over that confirmed it was an approved message from our government. Three things were very clear to me in the silence that followed the announcement, my food well and truly cold and untouched. First, was that my country was going to war with the biggest bullies on the block. Second, they wanted people to hand over any Ultron or SHIELD tech they had found in the rubble to turn into weapons. And, finally- and this was the one that made me feel particularly ill- they were using forced conscription as a threat to coerce us into cooperating. I looked at my father and brother who both wore equally unreadable expressions as they worked it out in their own heads as well. If there was mandatory military service, they would both be on the list. And I doubted anyone on that list would come out alive against the enemy they would be fighting.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Pa? What does this mean for us?"

He turned to me with an expression that tried to be reassuring, and patted my shoulder. "It will all be okay, dear. We will have to give them the robot."

"What?" I spluttered, then shook my head and tried to gather myself. "You can't be serious, Atyets. You have seen what Ultron can do! You would just hand over such a dangerous thing to be used as a weapon of war?"

Aleks was doing a much worse job of hiding his anxiety, but he still spoke up, "Yes, we have seen what he can do. Ultron's designs are perfect for an unmanned army. If they build enough, they won't need to force anyone to enlist." The flicker of hope in his words gave away his fears. My baby brother wasn't built for war, and he had already seen far too much of it in his years. Until now he had been able to stay out of the majority of it.

"I know you both have good intentions," I started slowly, watching the dullness of the concrete floor, "but there is no way that this can end well. This will kill us."

My father pursed his lips and scratched his bearded chin with a sigh. It was clear that he was confused by the mixed messages I had been sending since I got here. But was it really my fault, when our situation was so confused and complicated and wrapped up in all these issues of morality? "Katja," he began wearily, "what do you want from me? What can I do here that will not drive you away from us again?"

I blinked and a tear ran down my cheek. I wiped it away with frustration. "Do I look like I know what I want?" I demanded, shutting my eyes against the world. "I wish there was a right answer. I just wish no one had to suffer."

Aleks was more attuned to my feelings than I ever wanted to admit. He murmured, half to himself, "Who is it that you do not want to suffer, really?"

And I knew what he was really asking, even if our Pa did not. I stood, and, like I was accustomed to doing, ran from my problems and hid myself in the bathroom.

I did not remember falling asleep on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, but when I awoke I could see through the small window that the sun was setting in the sky. For a moment I felt sorry for anyone who had been hoping to use it. I quickly forgot about that, though, when I realized that despite how sorry for myself I was feeling, one piece of this convoluted puzzle had just became much more simple. At least now the authorities were not labeled the 'moral-good-guys'. I no longer had to worry that I was being selfish for not turning Ultron in, because through everything else, I knew that it was wrong to turn the weapon that could have wiped out the entire human race on anyone, from any side. I didn't care if it was the Americans, the Sokovians, or freaking Greenland, I wasn't going to let anyone use Ultron against their fellow humans.

So that just left two options: let Ultron kill us all of his own volition, or destroy him ourselves.

Again, I knew what the 'right' thing to do was, but I couldn't bring myself to admit it, even within my mind, and I didn't know why. Though, to be honest, I was getting my suspicions.

I was hesitant to leave the sanctuary of the restrooms, but when I poked my head out the door, the garage was absent of their presence, anyway. I stepped out, wondering where they were, when someone cleared their throat. I jumped and turned to the source of the sound, finding Ultron was back, once more working on his reactor at the bench. When he saw he had my attention, he pointed to the couch.

Curiously, but warily, I approached it, glancing at the android every few seconds to make sure he wasn't about to attack. On it, there was sitting a piece of paper, a sloppily written note. Obviously my father's, from the lazy handwriting. It wrote; 'Ultron asked us to fetch him something he couldn't get himself. We won't be long, but he shouldn't give you any trouble. He knows we will not help him if he hurts you. With love, Atyets. PS. We will not make any decision without you.'

First I shook my head, because despite what they believed, Ultron didn't really need their help at all. Still, it was comforting to know that they finally realized I wanted to be a part of these major decisions. I had to remind myself, though, that their decisions wouldn't even concern me when I went back to school. For some reason it was a sobering thought. However, I had much more important things to worry about for the time being. I needed to be more assertive, for me, and for my family.

Gathering my courage, and knowing that if I died, it really wasn't the end of the world, I strode to the workbench, planting myself opposite the metal mass murderer. First of all I realized that rather than his reactor that I had seen him working on early that morning, he was working on an entirely new core. It was still obviously second hand from another droid, but in much better condition than the one he had been using this whole time. "Where did you get that?" I blurted. Granted, I had wanted to open up a dialogue, but this was not how I had planned it to begin.

He tilted his head to look at me, and I couldn't help but imagine the intricate design of the schematics I had seen last night. "It was mine to begin with, so I can't see why it would matter."

I nodded slowly, seeing his logic, and honestly not wanting to ask questions, "Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. What I do want to know, though," I said, going all in and hoping for a straight royal flush, "is why you haven't killed us all, yet. I know you don't need us."

Ultron chuckled that metallic laugh of his. "Feliks continues to believe so."

I raised a brow. "My Pa is many things, intuitive is not one of them." I was again surprised how easy it was to talk to him with some normality. He was dangerous and he was insanely clever, but those things didn't stop a person from being comfortable to talk to. "And you didn't answer my question."

"They are useful, and not terrible company, why would I kill them just yet? Seems a little backwards," he replied in a carefree tone, always working, never giving me his full attention.

So far, so good. He seemed to realize the benefit to human company, after all. But it raised another sudden question, one that spurted from my mouth in an unexpected bubble of concern."Ultron, have you ever had a friend?"

The change in atmosphere was instant. He put down what he was working on, and slammed his metal hands onto the table, startling me, and leaned over the bench, pinning me with eyes that were nothing at all like my own. "Oh yes," he began, his tone a mix of casual conversation and dark threats, "I had two."

"What happened to them?" I whispered, knowing I had overstepped some boundary, shaking, not wanting to know the answer but asking because I just needed to.

Surprisingly, rather than lash out, as I had expected, the android slouched, and withdrew, picking up the replacement core once more. Just when I had given up on getting an answer, he spoke, so quietly I had to strain to hear. "I killed them."

So many emotions ran through me, fear, horror, anger, helplessness, sadness, pity. My father had never been intuitive, but I liked to believe that I didn't have that lacking. This was why, when presented with the information that a known murderer had killed the only people he would call his friends, the way he said it I just knew that it wasn't the whole story. That wasn't a threat, or a warning, that was a guilty admission. It wasn't that hard to pick.

I was about to press the matter when the door to the garage opened and my family returned, with their loud chatter and obliviousness, and I knew the moment had passed. I looked at the metal man, who now seemed oddly small for someone that towered over me and probably most others. Just when I had thought the puzzle was becoming simpler, things had to become difficult on levels I could hardly even comprehend.

A/N: YES! I finished another chapter! Again, if you're happy to be reading this, you know to thank my lovely reviewers who helped kick me back into gear. You want to be to thank for the next installment? Be the one to review ;)

To avoid confusion, Ultron wasn't saying that he physically killed Wanda, he was referring to what she herself said, that when he (unintentionally) shot Pietro to swiss cheese, she figuratively died too.

Sorry for the mistakes, I try to get them all, but I know I miss heaps! When this is finally finished I'll go through and properly edit it all.

Thanks for reading! Hope to hear from you soon!