A lot of you have been wondering whether or not I'm going to do a sequel. The truth is, I wasn't really planning on one, but with the immersion of a new plot, I have decided to try it. Instead of making it a whole new story, I've decided to add on to the original. I've worked hard on finding a new plot to go with this and I hope it pays off. But I warn you that it won't be a very long sequel. But I still hope you like it. Cheers to you guys for pushing me to renew this story! As always, reviews are much appreciated. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Four
Four Years Later...
Some can take it or leave it, but I don't wanna let it go.
My morning alarm was followed by a subtle groan and a hand pounding on the snooze button.
"Stupid alarm." My head emerged out of the pillows and into the sunlight gleaming through the windows.
Must...have...coffee. My morning mantra stirred me out of bed and I drudged across the floor of my apartment and towards my kitchen. The question of why God ever created Mondays pondered my mind as my coffee brewed. The smell slowly started to bring me out of my bleary state and the first cup brightened my mood. One thing about me; I was not a morning person. Never was, never would be. And those who were better stay out of my way, lest they see my frightening side.
With the first cup down, I moved on to the bathroom, only to be greeted with the second worst part of waking up: my face. My dark brown hair was in at least twenty different directions and the usual 'I-just-woke-up' face was nothing to look forward to.
"Yuck." I told the creature in the mirror and I stuck my tongue out at it like a child.
However, the wild thing in the mirror slowly started to turn into something that looked like a human as the make-up was applied and the hair was curled into (more) tameable locks. I wasn't the prettiest girl on the block, I'll admit, but at least I wasn't strolling the streets of New York looking like a whacked-out zombie.
"Miss Barton?" The familiar British A.I. brought me to a start. I had gotten used to it over the past four years. However, he had to know that mornings were not a good time. "Captain Rogers requests permission to enter your apartment."
The reminder of the Captain made me smile. We had grown close over the past four years. He usually came over every morning for coffee, seeing as by this time in the morning Tony and Bruce were in the lab and my aunt and uncle were still asleep.
"Send him in." He knew he could come in any time, but he was always the gentleman.
"I'm not one to intrude." That was his answer one wintery morning. "The last time I walked in to a woman's apartment unannounced..." He never finished his answer, but I figured the last half spoke on an incident that was more than unpleasant.
After shifting into a pair of jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt (a gift from Tony for my birthday last year), I headed out into the living room and found Steve sitting on the couch watching ESPN.
"Who's winning? I asked as I went to brew another cup for him.
"St. Louis Cardinals." He said with disdain. He was just mad that his favorite team had lost a few weeks ago. He joined me over at the counter and settled himself in a chair near his coffee.
"Sorry to say your team stinks." He looked at me through narrowed slits before taking his first sip.
However, he was interrupted mid-sip when the elevator doors came open and two tiny bodies practically flew out of the elevator, with one master assassin parent running behind them.
Three years ago, there had been two new additions to the Barton family: Bernard (Barney) and Natalia Barton. AKA: The most mischievous twins I had ever known. The resemblance between Barney and my father was striking. The light brown hair, his eyes, even his nose looked like Dad! Natalia was so much like her mother that she looked like a Natasha-mini-me. The fiery red hair and the natural sneakiness was enough to make me laugh when Aunt Nat couldn't find her. The two together were like their parents: a great team. Only they weren't out saving the world; they were out worrying their parents. I swear, I don't think my aunt slept some nights because they were causing trouble. Good thing I had opted to get my own floor in Stark Tower, or else I'd be failing classes right now. Not something to do in your last semester of college.
It was Steve's turn to laugh as he caught Barney in his arms. The toddler tried to squirm out of his grip, but to no avail.
"And who is this little guy?" He flipped the toddler over and held him by the ankle in mid-air, only making him laugh harder.
"Uncle Stevie, put me down!" He yelled in-between giggles.
"Natalia, come back here!" Uncle Clint was desperately trying to catch the elusive child, but she quickly dodged out of his grasp.
"Auntie Hannie! Auntie Hannie!" A little girl screamed as she ran to my lap. "Help me!"
"Come here." I said to the little girl, all dressed up in her periwinkle blue dress and sunflower flip-flops. "My, my, you look pretty this morning."
"Daddy's taking us out for pancakes!" The little girl's eyes were wide with excitement at the thought of hot cakes drizzled in syrup. Actually, I think he was taking them out more for her mother's sake than for a treat. Aunt Nat had been barely keeping her head above water with watching the twins.
"Chocolate chip?" The little girl nodded vigorously.
"Can you come with us, Auntie Hannie?"
"I'm sorry, Nattie. Auntie Hannie has to go to school." I was met with sad brown eyes and a frown.
"Daddy, I never have to go to school, right?"
"Now why wouldn't you want to go to school?" Uncle Clint asked his daughter.
"Because I won't be able to get my pancakes!"
"Speaking of school," My uncle began, "Cap, you're going to watch it on the roads today, right?" I swore Steve rolled his eyes, or maybe it was my imagination. He asked this question every time he drove me to school. Uncle Clint had always been cautious after the whole kidnapped-by-terrorists-and-nearly-dying incident. Nowadays, he made sure we were safe by badgering us constantly about safety protocols, much to our annoyance.
"Yep. I'll keep her safe. Scout's honor."
My uncle rolled his eyes at the Captain's Boy Scout hand sign.
"They only want to protect you." Steve told me later as we walked to his bike in the garage. "As do I." My eyes met his soft stare. It was one I had seen many times before. When I lost my parents, he was there to partake in my pain. When I broke my ankle during a mid-morning jog, he helped me recover (along with two two-year- olds that wanted to play doctor). But this look, it was different. Maybe it was the garage lighting or some odd phenomenon, but whatever it was, I quickly brushed it aside.
"I still think it can be pretty annoying that he thinks I can't take care of myself." I placed myself behind him on his bike. I could barely wrap my arms around his torso because he was so muscular.
"You're not the only one. Thinking I can't drive my bike."
"It's only because he loves you." I said in a sing-song voice.
"You know, I'm beginning to think you can take the bus this morning." He retorted evilly.
"And then you'll be cooped up with Tony and Bruce in a boring lab all day."
The roar of the motor signaled the end our discussion and we sped off into the streets of New York City. As we sped down the streets, I couldn't help but think about my uncle.
If he believed I wasn't defenseless, he would leave us alone.
And there it was. Wrapped in a neatly-packaged sentence, my answer was presented to me with a bright red bow of hope. I could barely contain my joy as I got off the bike in the campus parking lot. Steve looked at me with a cocked eyebrow, knowing that there was obviously something cooking in my brain.
"What's got you so excited on a Monday?"
"I've got it! I know how to get my uncle off our backs!" The idea seemed to amuse him and his facial expression said to indulge him.
"If he didn't feel like I was defenseless, then he wouldn't be on our backs about being safe!"
He looked at me for a moment with a confounded stare.
"Don't you see? If I learn how to fight, then he'll leave us alone!" A frown now masked his face and I felt my heart sink.
"I don't think he'd be up for that plan, Hannah."
Uncle Clint always refused to let me train. I think it was too much for him to realize that I was in danger, whether he liked it or not. Funny that he should think that, given that I had already been the subject of torture of one of his enemies.
"It's worth a shot."
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "If you want to try, then I say go for it."
"On one condition."
"What?"
"You have to come with me."
His eyes widened. "For what? A shield if he gets mad?"
Come to think of it, it might be a good idea for a man his size to stand between me and my uncle.
"Well, that," He rolled his eyes at my miniscule attempt at humor, "and since you'd be training me." He raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"And where did you get that idea?"
"Because you're Captain America. You're the best fighter we've got."
"I think you'd better talk to your aunt about that."
"She's barely keeping her head above water with the twins as it is. She barely has time to even talk in-between making sure my cousins aren't running wild and destroying everything in sight. You're my only option."
He clasped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Risk my uncle's wrath or my constant nagging until he helped me? The choice was obvious. The long silence was interrupted with a sigh.
"Why do I ever let you talk me into these things?"
Good start or bad? I'm dying to know what you all think of this! Please let me know!