(DISCLAIMER: If you ever end up with any injury, especially a head injury please go to the hospital. Sleeping with a concussion is incredibly dangerous. ***)

Somehow the world decided to work with me on my endeavor and did grant me a job waiting tables at a Chinese restaurant after school and they were even going to let me have Tuesdays off.

I spent the next two days navigating my life as normal. I went to school and then to my new job and Interestingly the only communication I got from the Avengers was a few texts from Clint asking if my shoulder was fine. My father didn't make any kind of contact.

On Tuesday afternoon I showed up at the tower as requested feeling way more shaken than I should have. But as it turned out they were at least going to take it easy on me on the first day. Bruce checked my almost healed shoulder and then we did some running and Clint had me practice shooting a gun with him, something I had had to fake ignorance over, but overall it was...fine. I was tired, but I wasn't exhausted or bleeding, or bruised really. I never saw any blatant displays of disappointment, It was almost pleasant.They even had me stay for dinner again.

The next week was much the same. I went out as Morning Star a few times, got my first weekly paycheck, and slept about thirty-five hours the whole week. When Tuesday came I did have to do some of the dreaded sparring, but Steve was much more relaxed about it than my Father, he didn't take every opportunity to run me into the ground. He might adjust my posture, but he took it slow. When I fell he would give me a minute to get up and take a stance before starting again.

The whole week left me with the hollowing feeling of melancholy. None of this was going to last. I was dancing on a knife's edge and fate was about to tip it one way or the other. One of them was going to figure it out and then kill me, but until then I would keep it up and enjoy my life saving the New York streets. If the heavens granted me a miracle I might be able to keep up the act until I was eighteen, just a year and a few months away and then if I could get a moment of freedom I might be able to disappear and drop off the grid.

After my third training session with the Avengers I again ate with them and then headed home. I had finally managed to persuade Clint that I could walk home and I had no idea how lucky that was, because before I opened the door my sixth sense fritzed the it always did around my Father. And sure enough there he was, standing next to the table flanked by four other people. my heart froze.

"Glad you're back on time, sweetie." He said.

I shivered, my game was over.

"How's your job?"

Be professional, be strong, keep eye contact. "It pays twelve an hour plus tips, sir."

He took a step closer to me. I had to lock my knees to keep from stepping back.

"Good. It's good to see you finally growing up some." he reached up and dropped a hand on my shoulder, so casual.

Brace, but don't flinch. Steady breaths, in, out, in, out.

"These here are some of my friends." He said gesturing to the three men and one woman. "Dante, Carter, Jake, and the lovely vanessa." None of them looked particularly lovely. Dante had red hair, a scowl and three scars on his right arm. Carter could be Dante's brother, albeit a bit smaller and instead of scars he had a tattoo reaching up his neck. Jake was smaller than both of them but he was carrying at least two knives and a sig sauer on his hip. Vanessa wasn't anywhere near small and was playfully fingering two chinese ring daggers.

My Father had never brought anyone home before, not friends, not colleagues, so whatever was going on was important. He was holding all of his cards close.

He smiled at me, sweet like ethylene glycol and just as poisonous. "I thought they might be able to help you train."

A slow build of dread started in my stomach. He was going to test me.

He allowed me ten minutes to get dressed and prepare myself for what was to come. After that was over I had to drag myself back down into the basement. That cold, dark, blood stained room. I hadn't been back down here since he left. The darkest most recent blood stain in the corner was over a week old, in that week I'd been fed and my wounds had healed. I'd made friends, got a job, got to live my own life, but now it all felt like it had just been a minute one beat of birds wing and now it was over.

All five of them were in the basement hanging out like this was a casual party.

"took you long enough." Carter growled. I didn't acknowledge him, instead I looked to my father.

"Get in the middle." He ordered. " You'll start off hand to hand. I hope you've been practicing." Yep, just like I've been staying out of trouble.

Dante joined me in the ring, looking very pleased to be here. "This'll be fun. Gage's been tell'n me about you."

Ignore the distractions, focus on the target.

I took a deep breath in and set my feet shoulder width apart, left foot ahead of my right, I raised my arms in a guard position and Dante followed suit. He struck first, a left hook that I dodged. I replied with my own right hook. He dodged. Me and him exchanged petty attacks that the other could dodge for a few minutes, each watching the other like cat and mouse tip-toeing around the ring of fire. Until I had had enough. I jumped in with a mid-roundhouse kick, followed by a neck punch. Only for him to catch the arm and throw me to the ground. I swung my leg at the back of his knees and one of them hit the ground. Before I could scramble up he landed two punches, one to my ribs and one to my shoulder. But on his third try I grabbed his arm and swung my legs around his neck in a head-lock takedown. He shifted his weight and I took the brunt of the fall on my shoulder, it ignited with pain.

Dante let me pick myself up a pleased smile on his face. "Well, it seems you don't really add up do you?"

My Father was scowling,"That was disappointing sweetie. Try again."

And so we began. Dante was fast, and his hits were harder. I took four total and my ribs ached, some were definitely cracked and my lip was split again. Blood trickled down my chin. I only managed to land a few hits and throw him once, but each time he would just slam me harder into the concrete. My head hit a few times and I could feel the familiar beginnings of a concussion. Dante was enjoying this immensely with only a few bruises of his own. His grins made me want to charge in and punch him until his face was too bloody to even find the mouth, but every time he would slam me into the concrete. There were going to be new blood stains today.

Once Dante had me pinned my Father called him off. "Since you are having such trouble with this we will move on to something with a bit more motivation." He turned to Vanessa. "You can help her practice her knife work."

I paled. He wouldn't kill me, would he? Would he?

Blood seeped into the thin padding of my mattress. He might. He would if I didn't measure up. If I didn't fit into his world, he would take me out of it just like he did with my mother

My father and his 'friends' were discussing their plans for the following months. They were mostly the usual ones, plugging leaks and a more complicated one involving the murder of a local kingpin and aquasition of an oversea mercinary division. Because all he needed was more killing machines.

Why does he even bother with me? Why did the Avengers bother with me? I guess I didn't really want the answer to either of those.

The next day followed much like the first. School, work, More training, more blood.

The guests practically moved in. There wasn't one moment I was alone, or left alone. Carter and Dante seemed to take a special interest in pushing me around, from things as simple as getting them beers or more physically like throwing me on the ground. My sixth sense had become completely unreliable, exploding at random intervals with and without threats.

Every day my Father had me working, I practiced knives, hand to hand, khali, and weapons training. By the end of each day I was bleeding and at least partially concussed.

On monday I was at my job taking a break during a slow shift when Clint texted.

Clint

I know you haven't been out as your other self recently, I just wanted to make sure you're still coming tuesday?

Crap! I'd totally forgotten about Tuesday and hadn't even had the chance to think about the Morning Star. If I told him no I'd have to go home Tuesday, but if I didn't I would have to redirect their attention. I did have Tuesdays off. Maybe just one breather?

Kira

Yeah, I've just been busy

Clint

good, looking forward to it

Thanks.

Before I left that day I found the manager in his office. "Hey, Mr. Alvarez?"

"Yes, Ms. Emmerson?" He asked looking up.

"If someone comes in here on Tuesdays, could you please tell them I'm out running an errand for you or something?"

His expression changed to concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh-Uh, no. I mean yes. Everything's fine. I just don't like it when people know exactly where I'm at all the time." I gave him my most innocent smile.

"Sure, but if someone's bothering you, let me know. I can run them off. Or at least call the cops."

This took me by surprise. "Uh, thanks. I don't think that's necessary, but thanks anyway."

"Sure thing. Have a nice day off. Oh and don't do drugs!"

I gave him a smile and a nod.

The walk home was chilly and refreshing. It was nice to know someone at least thought they could have my back. Even if it was an under informed assumption.

Back at the house it was just as loud and terrifying as before. Jake had his rock music on, Dante and Vanessa were sparing in the basement, and my Father and Carter just watched me without blinking. I swallowed, straightened my back and walked calmly to my bedroom, successfully avoiding contact with anyone. It didn't last. Ten minutes in the door slammed open popping my bubble of relief. Today was a sparing day and it was apparently time to practice one versus two. Carter and Vanessa.

Four hours later I Found myself in the bathroom, I wasn't too sure how I managed to get there, but thank god I did. I pulled myself into the bathtub and turned on the shower, not even trying to attempt undressing first. The water was cold and helped soothe my pulsing headache. I began to count.

At least a few cracked ribs. Probably a concussion. A mat of bruises on my left side and a split lip.

The water was a sickly pink, swirling with the blood from my split wounds, luckily none of those were deep enough to need stitching, because that was something I knew I wasn't going to be able to get around to before I collapsed.

I turned off the water and pulled myself from the tub, using the sink for sablility. The whole world seemed to stutter around me, compromising my own blance. I gripped the sink to keep me up and closed my eyes, willing myself to feel the tile under my feet. The shaking stopped and I was able to open my eyes again, less nauseous this time.

I don't know how long it took me to bandage my calf and wrap my ribs, but it must have been about three in the morning when I fell into my bed and passed out.

When I woke up the next morning my head was a hurricane of senses. Everything was so loud. The entire world seemed to be screaming at me. Blowing horns, Clattering, Screeching and laughing in my face. My phone was vibrating on the table beside me, but it was hard to differentiate it from the the grinding gears of a simi ten blocks away.

Blindly I reached for the ear plugs stashed in my lower drawer and shoved them in followed by earmuffs. Combined they were able to block out enough of the noise for me to concentrate on just the sounds in and around the house. I picked out the five heartbeats; only two were fast enough to be awake though. I automatically zeroed in on the one I knew best, still sleeping and I counted off the rhythms, eyes still closed, forcing myself to take a shallow breath every ten beats. The pulse in my finger tips slowed and I gently cracked my eyes open enough to let the light in. It was brighter than normal, but not the kind of bright that made me feel I was staring directly into the furious heart of the sun at least.

I lifted my pant leg and checked the gash on the calf, courtesy Miss Vanessa. It was reasonably healed, but I would have to be careful not to reopen it. I made a mental note to add bandages to my backpack, in case it did decide to make my day more complicated.

My ribs on the other hand had taken up arms against my insides and breached their defences every time I took a breath or lifted my arms. Today was going to be as fun as using a fork to eat soup on a plate, but at least I was only going to have to spar with the Avengers and not my Father. Given he didn't find out and slice me up and sell me out to Jeffery dahmer.

Throughout the course of the day I was able to ditch the earplugs as long as I stuck to quiet corners, though everything was silenced once I got into the elevator at Avengers Tower. I never really noticed how much noise dampening the tower as a whole had. It was kind of relaxing, not having to focus on one single sound to drown out all the others.

The Avengers were waiting for me in the gym. "Hey, Kira. You okay? You're later than usual." Steve pointed out. I checked my watch, 4:15.

Crap! I knew I was behind, just not this late.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be late. I just got a little hung up." Great, now I was making excuses!

"Actually you have perfect timing." Natasha said, just as the door behind me opened and Tony Stark Arrived in all his glory.

"So, what didn't I miss?"

"I think the question is what is everyone here now missing." Clint dead panned.

"Boys, be nice." Natasha warned. "Should we start with warming up?"

Tony shrugged. "Why? we all know you and Barton are warmed up and these guys don't need it." He jerked his head towards Me, Steve and Bucky.

"What about you?" Clint asked. "I'm pretty sure you weren't doing jumping jacks in your bed."

"I'm just here so Pepper will stop threatening to sell off my company."

"Alright." Steve decided. "We'll start with sparing then. Kira you good working with Buck?"

Yeah, cause I'd love to get punched by a supersoldier with a metal fist. More broken ribs, yea!

"of course."

Bucky's POV

I was not exactly thrilled to be paired with the small "oyster" as Tony called her. She gave off this aura that if someone so much as stepped wrong she wouldn't be able to hold herself together and would break like glass.

I tried to start out slowly, but she didnt' seem to understand that idea and immediately charged in. It was kind of relieving to know she wasn't afraid to punch back, she was good actually, her technique was on point, her patterns were sporadic, everything was good. For exactly one-hundred and eighty four seconds, then the glass shattered.

She hit the mat on her side with the smallest of strangled cries and gasped for air. her hand flew to her side and with a contorted grimace. Der'mo.

"What'd you do?" Sam asked, dropping next to her. I was dumb struck, what had I done?

Kira started to fratically scramble to her feet, but I grabbed her shoulders and quickly sat her back down again.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"I, uh-nothing. Nothing's wrong." She said it too fast to be believable. By now the whole team was surrounding us and she seemed on the verge of a panic attack, her head jerking around like-

"Hey! give the oyster some space!" Clint ordered, before shooing me and Sam away and ushering in Bruce.

Kira seemed so stressed at this point that I thought she might bolt, but for some reason she stayed anchored to the mat, rigid and tight lipped.

Bruce took a deep breath and looked Kira in the eyes. "So what hurts?"

Kira opened her mouth.

"And don't say nothing, because all of us know that's not true."

It took her a beat longer than normal, but she did manage to say, "My ribs hurt." Even if it was just barely a whisper.

"Okay, can I touch them to make sure they are okay?"

She nodded and he began to gently press on her ribs with two fingers, until she grimaced again and he let out a breath.

"That one is definitely broken, I'm not real sure about the one above it." The whole team stood to the side like stone carved pillars pointedly focusing on anything, but the matter at hand, until Steve spoke in his 'I'm doing my best not to be intimidating' voice.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because It isn't really a problem?" She muttered.

Tony snorted. "Cho really doesn't like it when we say things like that. Once I tried to sleep off a concussion and I kid you not, she made me watch a three hour video on why not to sleep off a concussion."

"Let's get you to Cho, before you end up puncturing your lung or something." Clint said, gently guiding her to her feet and walking her out of the room with Bruce in tow, leaving the rest of us behind.

"You okay Buck?" Steve asked, knowing exactly how I felt.

"I kinda feel bad."

"How did we not notice?" Natasha asked, looking displeased with herself.

There was a thread of silence for a moment and then Sam shrugged. "I guess we knew this was coming eventually with the whole 'high school musical teenager out to save the world thing', but jeez she could have said something."

What I was most concerned about was her ability to hide it like it never happened. If she was already this good at hiding broken ribs, I could only imagine what other things she would keep to herself, like bullet wounds or PTSD.

"Someone's going to have to talk to her about this" Steve said transfixing his frustration on a point somewhere in the distance.

Natasha glanced at him. "You and Clint are probably the prime candidates for that, everyone else should be elsewhere, though. She finds us pretty intimidating."

Steve nodded and left.

KIRA POV

Doctor Cho didn't take very long x-raying my ribs and checking the rest of me up before she had a diagnosis. One broken, one cracked and one concussion, but it wasn't the verdict that scared me so much as the unreadable questioning faces waiting outside. Cho herself didn't make any comments and kept all her actions precise and purposeful, she knew someone else would deal with me later.

"How'd it go?" Clint asked when I came out. It was the same thing he had asked the last time he'd taken me here. It gave me a weird sense of deja vu and now all I wanted to do was walk away like nothing had happened just like last time, but this was going to be different and I knew it.

"Fine." I mumbled fiddling with my hoodie stings, I wanted to pull the hood over my head, but my Father never liked it when I did, so I left it where it was.

"She has one cracked rib, one broken and a mild concussion." Cho said from behind me.

Clint was taken aback. "A concussion?"

"Kid what happened?" Steve asked.

"I-uh-"

"And before you come up with a really bad excuse, make sure it's not 'I fell down the stairs.' that one's really lame."

I closed my mouth and focused on a light stain on my hoodie. An excuse? That's totally not what I was planning. "These uh- guys were kind of fighting in the streets and I kinda got caught up in between them and... I mean the other guy did end up okay...." I made a rolling gesture with my hand.

"I didn't know you went out patrolling this week." Steve said.

Oops. "yeah, I tried to stay inconspicuous."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, but at least no one had started yelling yet.

"Her ribs are wrapped." Doctor Cho said. "But it's best if she doesn't move very much for the few days and she can go home, so long as someone is with her for the next few hours to make sure the concussion has no side effects and limit screen time. Barton should know everything else."

Steve and Clint both nodded. "Thanks." With that Dr. Cho excused herself, leaving Clint and Steve to escort me into what seemed to be a massive solitary living room. I couldn't help but notice the click of the door as Steve closed it. They both sat down on couches opposite me, close but I was still just out of arm's reach. Logically I knew it wouldn't help, but I let my mind settle anyways, even if It was just in a hazy resignation.

Clint watched me for a little bit. I could almost hear his thoughts as he dissected me hear his disappointment and disgust. "Listen kid," He started. "We aren't particularly mad, I mean yes we aren't pleased that you didn't even mention in passing that you were possibly bleeding internally or might have some life threatening brain injury-but no, none of us are angry." I finally managed to meet his eyes for a second, feeling something cousin to shame, for putting this on them, for lying about it. "We just want you to be safe. This life you've thrown yourself into is more than dangerous and it's fine if you want to pull out. Hell, that would probably be for the best, but that choice's up to you. We can't stop you, but we can help you-we want to help you." He paused to take in a deep breath and run a hand through his hair, seemingly lost in his lecture. "We-I want you to know it's okay to tell us when you're hurt. It's nothing to be ashamed of, it's okay to not be okay, I mean even with your faster healing broken ribs and concussions are dangerous and it's our job to make sure you are taken care of."

I just nodded numbly, somehow his voice never breached anything louder than normal yet he left me feeling weak. I could unblinkingly hold my fathers gaze as he screamed and threw things at me, but I was so pathetic I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact with someone talking to me like a regular person.

"Is there a specific reason you didn't tell us?" Steve asked.

I did force myself to look up this time, I couldn't mumble now. "I thought I would be fine."

He nodded, though I'm not sure he understood. "Like Clint said, it's okay to not be fine. Please tell us, anyone of us. Or actually anyone at all, and we'll make sure you're okay. Do you understand?"

I nodded, not entirely sure I did.

"Well then," Clint said standing up. "I think concussions call for ice cream. FRIDAY will you call the team up to the kitchen please?"

Distantly I followed both of them into the kitchen where the rest of the avengers joined us and we ate ice cream in what might have been seen as morose silence. It'd been a long time since I ate ice cream, almost three years, but I couldn't focus on it enough to really taste it.

Someone pulled out a chess board and the whole team played with each other. There were wisps of tension intertwining the group, they all wanted to ask questions, but no one said a thing or forced my participation. A few hours later Bruce deemed me in the "safe zone" and they let me go home.

Bucky insisted on walking me down and I was too exhausted to even contemplate arguing so I allowed it. "Are you okay?" He asked, when we were in the elevator.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm really sorry." How could he be sorry? He wasn't even involved.

"You didn't do anything though."

The doors opened, but he didn't move. "I threw you on the ground when you were hurt, how is that irrelevant?"

"Uhhh- Because it is?"

His face fell. I involuntarily took a step back. "Kira, I'm sure Clint already told you, but if there's something wrong, we can help."

I nodded. "Thanks." For the offer at least, It's a nice thought.

With that he let me make my way back to the only house I've ever called home.

*** The only reason I let Kira sleep this one (partially) off is because she has super healing, so if something did go wrong, which probably happened to her in the past, she wouldn't be out for more than a week. DO NOT SLEEP OFF A CONCUSSION. Thank you

Authors notes

Thank you guys so much! I hope your enjoying the story so far. Don't forget to vote and comment please!