writing & running on this one.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘: Fire and Water

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝟏𝟎 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

"Hey, you."

Lizzie's head shot up from tying her shoelaces. As she stood to full height, the friends took each other in that morning. Arthur Langley cut his hair short again (despite everyone's protest), batting away the girls' hands and saying his Ma wanted to see his eyes. Taylor was more upset with the decision, but that was only because Lizzie noticed the way Arthur refused to meet their eyes. Lizzie didn't ask him why he lied that day. Instead, she threw her hand over Taylor's mouth the rest of lunch (she was done eating anyway). With school and wrestling, Art rarely came around the New Avengers Facility anymore, meaning it had been quite some time since the two friends talked outside of school.

Art expected a side remark out of her that morning, but she had a different course of action. Lizzie closed the distance between them and tucked her head into his shoulder. Without hesitation, he returned the hug and gripped her sweatshirt like a lifeline. Lizzie never pried; she knew when to ask questions, and she knew when to leave it alone.

"Thanks for coming," he muttered against the top of her head. Lizzie squeezed him tighter, reminding Art once again that his best friend was not just a student athlete. With his arms now wrapped loosely around her shoulders, he grinned at her. "Sleepy MJ is my favorite MJ."

"I'm always sleepy."

"I thought you were sleeping better," he challenged. Lizzie hummed, and she tried to brush off the concern by remaining quiet. "Did you tell your therapist?"

Lizzie sighed and pulled away from Art. He watched her begin pulling her sweatshirt off as she spoke, keenly aware of how she was hiding her face from him. "Gracie's on maternity leave—"

"I know, I meant the temporary one. What's her name again?"

"Ingrid. We had a staring contest last week. I won."

Art gave her a sharp look for the joke as she threw her sweatshirt onto the bench with her backpack. The softball dugout at Midtown's athletic field was home to her, but it was also directly next to the lacrosse and track field. When she got a wake-up call at five-thirty, she thought it may have been the ghost of Sharon Carter coming to haunt her. Then, she opened her eyes enough to see 'ART.' Needless to say, she shot out of bed all the same.

Lizzie could count on one hand the number of times he'd messaged her asking to go for a run. She, on the other hand, made countless calls (not all were taken up) to her friend if she needed the company. What she knew was that Arthur only enjoyed running when he wanted to get his mind off something. Any other time was his worst nightmare. A five-a.m. phone call came after giving up on sleep.

"What time do the teams get here for conditioning?" Art asked with a yawn as he trudged across the turf.

She glanced once at her watch. 6:08 AM. "Not sure about the others, but Coach still has the girls show up at six-thirty for weights."

"This is why I'm grateful my coach hates mornings." Lizzie grinned as she began stretching, all while Arthur tried to figure out which was his left foot and which was right. "I know it's a touchy subject, but how's the team doing this season without you? I haven't caught a game yet."

"They're down one-three this season. C.T.'s still captain. Taylor's still ready to kill her every time she says something to her," she said, clenching her jaw as she thought about her softball team. When Lizzie stood up straight, Art was just beginning to stretch. "Higgins told me she's not giving out my number 'til I graduate. She asked me if I wanted to come back as a sub this season."

Art's eyes widened. "Really? That's awesome. What did you—oh, okay. You said no?"

Lizzie shook her head, swallowing hard as she pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail. Not all of the pieces were long enough, leaving some to pester her against the wind when it caught in her eyes. She hated her hair. But the shorter, the darker, the better.

"I said she can put my name on the roster, but only for emergencies."

"So, like, if Taylor kills C.T.?"

Lizzie hummed as a yes, then she looked longingly ahead at the empty track. Art must have noticed because he snorted. "You can run if you want. I'm just going to walk today. I've got a headache."

Shoes planted themselves in place at the admission. Lizzie nodded ahead, grabbing his elbow and indicating for the two to begin walking. Not everything needed to be a race. They settled into a comfortable pace, and around six-thirty after their first mile was complete, Lizzie saw the headlights start to appear in the parking lot. Arthur must have noticed the incoming student-athletes as well.

A new thought triggered, Arthur clacked his tongue in feigned casualty. "...so...how're things going with Ayla?"

Since Valentine's Day, their cafeteria table heard lots about Ayla Bennett supplied by her number-one-supporter, Taylor. Unfortunately, the victim's love life she'd gotten her hooks into was her best friend's. While the curly-haired Cupid may be convinced the senior volleyball player was Lizzie's match, Arthur wasn't. Three years of being friends with Lizzie Carter gave him enough time to see the difference between her casually flirting and her showing genuine interest in someone.

"Fine," was Lizzie's short response, the word stale on her tongue as she set her eyes forward to the track again. Then, they narrowed. "We're just friends, Art."

"I know that. Does Taylor know that?"

"You know how Taylor is," she sighed. Art payed attention to her hands flexing into a fist before she stuck them into her pockets. Defense-mechanisms were becoming an easy catch for him now that he knew what to look for. "She just wants me to be happy, and me not being with anyone since C.T. doesn't exactly convince her I've moved on—"

Art took the possible death that may come with the interruption.

"—have you?"

The expected glare sent from the rings of hell never came because, instead, his question stumped the teenage girl. Not that she hadn't expected him to ask, but Lizzie found herself in a similar corner two years ago. Backed up against the same wall when Wanda Maximoff asked her if she loved C.T. Clemins. Halfway across the world, she wondered if Wanda knew how much she needed her now.

Lizzie took her eyes off the lines of the track to meet Art's eyes (no longer hidden by his hair). "Taylor thinks I haven't."

"You kind of said that already."

Lizzie sighed, then groaned, and her hidden hands escaped to run through her short, dark hair. "I've moved on from her. That's not the problem...and I can't tell Taylor the problem because she doesn't know the problem...." and sensing Art's confusion growing, she tried to clarify because with him, she could tell the truth. "I can't be in a relationship after what happened with C.T.. I moved on from her. I want what's best for her. I don't think I've moved on from what happened."

"What do you mean?"

"She thought I was a cheater because I couldn't tell her the truth. I lied about who I was with, the people I was talking to, where I was running off to because I had to protect someone else. Being in a relationship with someone again means putting them through that, and I'm not..." Lizzie's face twisted in disgust. "That's not who I am. I won't hurt someone I love like that."

Art chewed his bottom lip. "Why can't you tell them the truth?"

"No," was the firmest she'd spoken that morning, and it echoed through the muggy air. Lizzie shoved her hands back in her pockets, finding a softer voice. "I'm not putting anyone else at risk."

You're collateral, Lizzie.

Arthur could tell the topic was testing the waters. Lizzie never let people cross her boundaries, but he was the wildcard. He never should have known the truth about her—about Peter, for that matter—but he did. While he didn't know much about the ghosts that haunted her, he knew they still had their hands around her throat. Her opening up to him about this was because she could. Art gave her someone to tell the truth to, even if he could see how desperately she wished she could tell this all to her best friend.

"I don't think it's fair to you, or to others, to keep yourself at a distance from the world, MJ," he said carefully, his footsteps slowing as he spoke. "Because yeah, disgustingly popular center fielder Lizzie Carter is great, but even the parts of you that you think suck are lovable, too. Blindspot isn't a demon in your closet, but she is someone you have to live with. I like her. Most days. Peter doesn't always have the nicest things to say, but..."

Lizzie scoffed, and a smile broke out at the mere thought of the profanities Peter let out about Lieutenant Lizzie. Considering what he was brave enough to say to her face, she couldn't imagine what was said behind closed doors.

"Have you talked to him about this?" Art asked, genuinely curious.

"About my feelings on not being in a relationship? Uh, no. Last time we talked about something like that, I was encouraging him to date around after having my heart broken by C.T.," she said, wincing at the memory. "I bother him with enough of my problems. I'm not going to add my non-existent love life to his list."

There's not really anyone out there who is going to fit into both worlds.

"I just think, if there's anyone who's going to understand, it might be him."

Ours do.

Lizzie inhaled sharply at the advice, deciding that it was only because they had hit their sixth lap, and not because talking to Peter about this made her want to vomit. "I'll think about it."

"Or Ingrid, but she sounds like a bitch."

"God, she's the worst."

"...hey, Lizzie?"

She bumped shoulders with him. "Hey, Art."

"Thank you," was all he said, and Lizzie immediately noticed the sudden shift in tone. He was no longer talking about her problems. His brow creased and pain twisted up his features like someone hit him square in the rib-cage. Lizzie, still close, reached so that she could pull his hand from his hoodie pocket. When they were free, she grabbed tightly and didn't let go.

Arthur let out a shaky breath, and his dark eyes suddenly welled with tears. Lizzie's hand tightened when he turned his head, and he fought off the sobs the same way he would anger—clenched jaw, refusing to let it in. There was a reason they were friends.

"Arthur," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the wind. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I kissed someone...a, uh...it wasn't a girl..." Lizzie nodded along and waited for him to feel comfortable looking at her again. When her fingers laced with his, he braved her reaction with a quiver to his lower lip. "...and now it's not just in my head anymore, MJ." Now it's real, were the words he didn't have to say. She understood. He inhaled again, unevenly, then he briefly looked back to the parking lot. "I couldn't sleep. I just needed to get out of my own head."

Similar to how he felt when he hit the threshold of her boundaries, Lizzie knew Arthur wasn't comfortable with the conversation. His dismissiveness at the end caught her attention, and she tugged on their still-connected hands.

"Hey," she urged, making sure he was watching her. "I'm proud of you, and I know it's scary. Anytime you need to go for a run, or want to talk—"

"—I bother you with enough of my problems. I'm not going to add my non-existent love life to your list," Arthur was quick, retorting. Recycling her words were enough to make both of them break, a smile stretching along their faces. "Hey, your words. Not mine...but thank you. Again."

"Like I said, anytime. I'm probably up anyway."

"Just saying right now, I'm not taking the blame when you get detention for falling asleep in class today."

"You say that like you're not going to be asleep, too. See you there."

Arthur groaned deeply at the thought of the school day ahead of them. "And you know Taylor sucks at taking notes, and Michelle's going to bite my head off if I ask her one more time—"

"—I'll ask Peter to take notes for Chem and History. You're out of luck with English and Robotics."

"Ned's got me covered. Speaking of, he's not happy Taylor jumped off their ship."

Lizzie furrowed her brows. "What?"

"I would elaborate, but you'd really kill me, so I'm just going to go change in the locker rooms and let you text your partner—" and before she could even manage to get another word out of her friend, Arthur displayed more athletic ability in the next minute than he did in the last half-hour.

It didn't take Lizzie long to realize what he was insinuating about her and Peter. The teenage boy took off in full-spring and yelped when he heard the sounds of Lizzie running behind him. Knowing it was inevitable until she caught up to him, the teenage boy let out a laugh and shout of glee over his shoulder.

"I've seen this in my nightmares!"

"They'll be dreams compared to this!"

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍, 𝐍𝐘𝐂 ─ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝟏𝟕 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖

Ayla and Lizzie weren't dating. Just to be clear. Even though Ayla seemed ready for that next step and Taylor would love nothing more, Lizzie was perfectly fine hanging out with Ayla as friends. Valentine's Day ended up with them going out on a picnic, courtesy of the older blonde's planning skills (which Lizzie, admittedly, lacked in relationships), but the conversation carried the same that day as it would've with anyone. Lizzie flirted, but not enough to lead Ayla on, and she remained at a respectable distance the entire night.

The few times they hung out since then were also last-minute, just like the Valentine. Ayla wasn't in season like softball was, and even though Lizzie wasn't playing, she still tried to support her best friend and old-teammates when she could. That, along with homework and 'Partner Field Work' at the Avengers Facility...yeah, Lizzie wasn't ready for the next step.

"Hey..."

Lizzie was lost defending her actions in her mind when the sore subject pulled her back to the present. Ayla Bennett sat next to her on her bed, making the brunette wonder why she thought it was a good idea to take a break from studying. Finals were coming up in a few months, and she invited Ayla over to help her review since the senior was ahead a year. Now, Ayla's voice calling her attention only sounded like a car crash waiting to happen. Her hands found their way to the long, noticeable scar on her shoulder and Lizzie's body locked up immediately.

"Can I ask what happened?"

You shouldn't, Lizzie wanted to say, but bit her tongue. The teenage girl suddenly sat up and out of reach, rolling out her shoulder as she did so with little-to-no reaction when Ayla's eyes wandered back to it.

"I'm sorry, MJ. I didn't mean..."

Lizzie gave her a smile, but when she closed the last inch of contact by standing up from the bed, Ayla took that as her cue she'd pushed too far too soon. In hindsight, the question was one of kindness, and she had no idea of the history behind the injury—or the history of those Lizzie confided in the injury to. C.T. fucking Clemins ruined a lot, and Ayla Bennett and all others after her faced those repercussions.

"It's okay, I promise," Lizzie said when she saw the fallen expression, and truly meant it. She watched Ayla get up to stand next to her, bowing her head in embarrassment at the sudden shift in energy. Lizzie purposefully grabbed her chin and nudged it so that the taller athlete could meet her stare. "Stop beating yourself up please. I just haven't gotten around to healing mentally yet from that injury. It's not your fault. I'd ask, too."

Ayla still looked upset she'd crossed a boundary. Lizzie may have tried to mend the situation by holding her face now, taking the half-step necessary to fill the space between them, but Ayla wasn't fooled. With determined, blue eyes, she frowned as she ignored a peek at Lizzie's lips. "I should go. It's a school night."

"Okay. Of course, yeah...I can just—I'll walk you out."

Lizzie hated herself for a good two hours after the weird goodbye between her and Ayla when she got into her car that night. If there were ever a moment she wished her sister were right down the hall still, it was now. After an hour of rewording the conversation in her head (there were a million ways she could have handled it better), the strangle against her heart didn't settle. Instead, she found herself gnawing away at every remaining fingernail until she tasted blood. Then, she cleaned her room. Made her bed. Tried a light workout on her bedroom floor. Took a shower. When that settled nothing, she resorted to homework.

She really was losing it. With a frustrated groan, the teenage girl dropped her head against the desk covered in work. At the motion, a picture clattered against the wood and had her up again quickly to make sure nothing broke. Lizzie reached to stand the frame back and remained unaware of which—of the dozens—had been the victim of her frustration that night. Only when it was glaring back at her did she realize it was one of her and Sharon. They took that on her thirteenth birthday.

In June, it would be two years since she saw her sister. Talked to her sister. Hugged her sister. Eyes moving away from the cursed image, she had to face another horror now. The mirror attached to her desk showed the stark contrast between thirteen-year-old Lizzie and her, now seventeen—because no matter how dark she dyed her hair and cut it short, no matter how deep the circles under her eyes got, Lizzie Carter looked more and more like her sister every day.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

Did Lizzie feel slightly off about calling Peter Parker after having a girl over that same night? Kind of. Did she do it anyway? The knock on her window spoke of her decision for her. She looked up from her homework with an exhale of relief and moved to the fire-escape, unlocking the window so that a suitless Peter Parker could climb through. The missing guest-star, Spider-Man, not being in attendance surprised her, but she said nothing about his casual attire. He must not have gone out tonight.

Peter made his way into her bedroom like he lived here himself. Although, besides Taylor, he was one of the few people from high school who came over enough for that to be true. When he was her student-aide (and suffering from immense guilt), he took it upon himself to be Lizzie's working limbs when her parents couldn't. So, it was very unsurprising when he flopped himself down onto the desk chair she'd been sitting at, leaving her to stand with crossed arms in front of him. He turned to look at her, finally, and met a familiar shade of brown.

"Hi," he said with a grin, always more energetic past midnight than he was at noon.

Lizzie rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Hi, partner."

"Am I asking or ignoring tonight?"

"Ask."

"Are you okay?" and when she shook her head, he sat up straighter in the seat. Nodding once to confirm he understood, he clasped his fingers tightly in front of him as he tried to follow-up with the next question. "What happened, MJ?"

Lizzie brought her hands to her face with a groan, allowing her palms to sink into her eye-sockets until she saw stars. "I feel like I'm pretending. Pretending like I'm a normal teenage girl, who just has a lot of scars from a bad accident growing up—pretending like I can go on dates and kiss anyone I want, even though they can't get close because it's basically a death-sentence now. Pretending like I don't miss softball everyday, like my sister's not being hunted down, like I'm just..."

When she finally dropped her hands and allowed herself to see again, the last word never came out. The word that put the nail on how she was feeling? Yeah, Lizzie didn't know—

Thankfully, Peter didn't need her to. The instinct to direct her sights on every detail in her room didn't work. He stood up and forced all of the focus on himself. Lizzie watched with a trembling lower lip as the boy walked over to her and did the simplest thing. Wrapping his arms around her like a shield, Peter hugged his partner and said nothing. The silence seemed to be what she needed most because she cracked under its weight.

Peter tucked her head into his shoulder when he felt her body shudder against his, and her hands circled around his waist until she had a fistful of his hoodie. Neither were tempted to break apart anytime soon, even when the temperature in her bedroom started to rise and his neck burned against her face.

Finally, with a sigh, she rolled her head against his shoulder and let go, allowing them a few inches to breathe. Peter swallowed hard. He did his best to ignore the tension churning his stomach the longer his partner stared at him like that. Seeing Lizzie at her most vulnerable was a privilege he knew, only by firsthand experience, no one saw without permission; but, unfortunately for Peter Parker, it was also when he found his partner beautiful. Not when she was teasing him, or telling him he was doing something wrong, but when she showed him who she really was behind all of the words. Behind Lieutenant Lizzie. Behind 'Lizzie Carter'.

She was just MJ.

Lizzie looked confused when his hands pulled away, but then they rose to wipe the tears off her face. She hadn't even known she started crying. Peter's thumb grazed her cheekbone and the kindness behind it was not an intimacy she allowed anymore. Too close. The sharp inhale must have come from her because she'd been watching his lips, never once parting. Knowing herself better than to stay in place any longer, Lizzie stepped back from his touch like water to fire and wiped at her wet face with her own hands.

"Lizzie," he murmured, going to reach for her, but she curled her body in the opposite direction to hide her face. Peter's heartbeat pounded in his ears. Normally he would have never invaded the personal space, but his hand broke through to land on her wrist. Again, he tried. "MJ, hey. Please look at me."

So she did. Peter tried not to let the pain show when he saw how the tears were still collecting against her lashes. Like last time, he went to wipe away anything that fell onto her flushed cheeks. This time, he didn't move his hands away.

Lizzie panicked, eyes widening at him. "Peter—"

"Hey, I know you," he confided, and with those four words, her eyelashes could no longer trap the amount of tears escaping. "Okay? Good and bad, and sad and really really mad. I've met them all. You're not just a normal teenage girl. You have a totally legend aunt who founded a great cause, whether or not it all went sideways—I'm sorry—" his apology came when he noticed the way her nose crinkled at the mention of S.H.I.E.L.D. "—but you have that last name, too. You don't have to pretend like that doesn't make up a part of who you are. Take away all of the other stuff... you are special, MJ. I'm not the first one to see it or say it, but I really need you to believe it."

Lizzie blinked a few times and tried her hardest to swallow with a dry mouth, but she didn't have a monologue planned for Peter in return. Her words would likely come out a mess, and she wouldn't risk whatever she was feeling. Not with Peter. Meeting a softer shade of brown, she offered her only reply.

"I'm sorry."

His brow creased in the middle, and he searched in her eyes for an answer. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I just..." and her face twisted again, nose scrunching up. Peter's thumb grazed her cheekbone again when he noticed the tears take away her sight. "I don't think I'm becoming a good person, Peter. And I'm so scared that they're getting in my head—"

And then Lizzie became unintelligible with her words because her admissions were more than she ever meant to say out loud. Heat burned against her skin and with another set of wide eyes, the teenage girl tried to get away from Peter. He responded, one hand remaining on her face while the other reached to wrap around her shoulder again, successfully pulling her to another hug.

"Hey, hey, please. It's okay. It's okay," he repeated in her ear until she was sure she would remember it even when the thoughts returned. Rocking them back and forth, Peter rubbed up and down her back to soothe the shaking. Mouth still against her ear, he never stopped with his words until the girl in his arms no longer cried. "It's okay. They're just thoughts. I get them, too. I know you, MJ. It's okay. It's okay."

Deep in her heart, clawing its way out of her silenced lips, were the words:

No. It's not.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝟑𝟏 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖

The relationship Lizzie Carter had with Tony Stark growing up wasn't anything special. Similar to any child whose met a family friend, she knew who he was and would always say hello to her father's friend; but it wasn't like Steve. Out of everyone in the Carter family, it was Mike who knew the man best—or boy, best; he knew Tony better when they were children. After they grew up and his parents passed away, the contact was hard to maintain—or so her father said when she asked. Nonetheless, he trusted Tony enough to move her into the Avengers Facility for rehab. Even with the conflicts between their families now. That meant something.

Trust.

Tony glanced up from his workbench when he heard the knock on the door. His last guess for the sudden disturbance would have been the person in front of him. Standing up straight, he cleared his throat. "Lizzie. Hi."

"I need to talk to you," she said, not bothering to pretend they were on speaking terms. However, there were not many people Lizzie had left. There was clear hesitation on her part to step into the office, so Tony dropped his hand and the hologram in front of him disappeared. Sighing, she curled her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie and stepped further inside. "How much do you know about what happened to me in S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Enough," was all he replied, and that didn't settle well in her stomach. Tony's face changed when he caught onto where she was going with things. "What's this about?"

"Ian Monroe found me a few months ago when I was leaving Therapist Gracie's office—and before you get pissed at me for not saying anything," she raised a hand in warning, face hardening when she saw his mouth ready for some angering words. "How it played out was how it played out, okay? I know how to keep myself alive. I clearly kept myself alive."

"What happened?"

"He warned me that HYDRA is still out there and that they've got my sister, Carson, and I on a hit-list. Which, in hindsight, not a big shocker. It's just...Monroe found me, Tony. I'm not like Peter. I don't have two suits I can put on. I'm a Carter. I can't take that away, and that puts everyone I know and love at risk."

Tony took in the new information slower than she would have liked him to, especially with the way her hands were already starting to shake at her sides. Lizzie, as she got older, handled her anger better. She wasn't sending scissors into walls anymore, at least; but she knew when it was there. The emotional punch of talking about Monroe with Tony wasn't measured up beforehand. The questions, she'd prepared herself for, but not the reactions. Natasha taught her better.

His hands flattened against the table, staring at her. "Have you told Mike and Sophia?"

The first name basis Tony remained at with her parents reminded her how intertwined he still was with her family. It was what made the sting more painful when he used the Carter name as an insult against Steve Rogers that day. Lizzie didn't forget that either.

"No. Peter's the only one who knows."

"Was he there?" Tony's second question followed quickly, and she could see in his face how he hoped the answer would be yes. When she shook her head, his hope died. "You said this happened months ago—as in, there were months something could have happened and no one would have known—"

"Peter would have known."

"And what good does that do the two of you if they take him, too, huh?" he rebutted, sharp enough that her arms crossed defensively over her chest. "If you thought I wasn't going to tell you that was a stupid decision just because you're pissed off at me, you might as well turn back around. What were you thinking, Lizzie?"

The more he continued, the louder his voice became. Lizzie wasn't surprised by his anger. Tony, out of everyone she had not yet told, would have mildest reaction. Ma was another story; one she might not live to tell. Everything he said was already expected. Because of that, she could give him a quick response.

"I was thinking, he's haunted me enough of my life. I wasn't going to run. No one else was in the room with us that day, Tony. It was just me and him. Regardless of if it's you, or Ma, or Dad—that was my decision to make."

"I understand that, but what if something had gone wrong, Lizzie? You know better than to go into a situation without backup."

Lizzie's eyes steeled on him. "Don't patronize me, Tony. I'm not Peter."

"I am more than aware of that," Tony replied quickly, a bit of a scoff in his tone at the thought of comparing the two teenagers. However, the scoff didn't cover the bite behind his words. "Which is why I said you know better."

"Monroe wouldn't have hurt me."

Did she really believe that?

"I'm going to ignore you just said that about a guy who worked for Nazi's."

Lizzie's chin tipped at him and eyes narrowed. "I can take care of myself."

"There's...that's not the point," he rushed out with his hands outstretched to her. "I'm not saying that you can't beat the shit out of someone, Lizzie—I'm saying, you're talking about this like it's okay that you went alone—"

"—I never said that," she interrupted. "What did you want me to do, Tony? Cause a scene in broad daylight? Because what would've happened, is he might have gone into the office and hurt Gracie if I left. I needed to know where he was. He's been stalking my friends, Tony. I wasn't going to risk that. So, I got in the car with him, and I turned my phone off because I didn't want you, or Happy, or Vision coming to save me from a conversation I needed to hear. What else do you want? I had Dad's gun. There were four civilians where we stopped. I made eye contact with one of them. Monroe was wearing boots with the tread worn out. He kept his hands in his pockets because he didn't want to show his scar—is this want you want, Tony? Because I'm not a hero. This is how I was trained. Not to save lives. To save mine and my own."

My own meant more than her own life, and her emphasis on that was not lost to him. When she finished, she could barely breathe. Her chest heaved up and down, the dog-tags moving with every inhale she took to remind her they were still there. Tony never interrupted her. He let her speak until she couldn't any more, and when brown eyes glared at him, he felt like no progress had been made. They were back where they were; but this time, Tony was willing to listen.

"Okay," he said softly, nodding once. Keeping watch over her gave him the chance to see when her shoulders dropped with her own acceptance.

"I'm not Peter," she repeated, and it was the third time she made sure he heard those words. Because only now did Lizzie feel like he fully listened to what she was trying to say. "He wants this more than anything, Tony."

"And you don't."

"That's not what I...I want my sister. I don't want this fear. But the opposite is, what? Just pretend everything that happened never did? It doesn't matter what I want. I can't do nothing," her lip curled up at the mere thought. "I won't."

"For starters, it does matter what you want. If you want to be a regular kid, I can figure out how to make that happen. Ross will be super happy. You just have to say the—"

"No. That's not what I mean. I made my decision when I was thirteen. I can't have a normal life. I don't even know how to have a normal life. I guess, I just realize the older I get what that decision really meant." Tony didn't like her answer, and that didn't go unnoticed by the teenager. "Don't do that. Don't give me that look like you think there's more for me because you're going to piss me off again."

He sighed and dropped his eyes to the floor. The rock in her chest pushed heavier against her ribs. Seeing Tony Stark actually think before he spoke was rare, but she was giving him a line. He had to be careful when treading on it.

"There's more for you," he said anyway.

"Yeah?" she shook her head and met his eyes with a frown. "In what world, Tony?"

"Whichever one you're willing to fight for, I guess. Pepper taught me that. She'll never be happy until I put down the Iron Man mask. I'll never be able to put him away until I'm ready to fight for that other life...and trust me, I've been fighting. It's hard to fight for something you don't think you can have. But you do. You can. Just say the word."

Lizzie could see how much Tony was giving. But she'd already decided. "Like I said, I made my decision when I was thirteen. But thank you."

"MJ."

The nickname came hesitantly out of Tony's mouth, almost as a trial to see how she would react after so long. After the last time he said it. Lizzie winced, but she didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," were the only two words he could manage at first, but they were enough. Because Lizzie never expected an apology out of Tony Stark. Not a real one. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I took out on you what I couldn't on him that day. There's a lot I've done to make you mad. Pepper and Happy remind me every day, but I care about you. And the kid. More than you know. Unfortunately...or fortunately. I feel like I'm putting in my training on being a dad. Pepper's not impressed. Please put in a good word after this...unless I'm pushing it. Am I pushing it?"

The Tony that she knew—the family-friend that always had satire in his back pocket—shined through at the end. Possibly encouraged by the smile appearing on Lizzie's face. "For your sake, I hope it's not a girl," but then a grin started to appear at the thought of Tony having a daughter. "Oh, I actually do hope it's a girl. Karma at its finest."

"Just know, if we do have a kid, you're never babysitting."

Lizzie jerked back in full offense. "As if you have better options?"

"Rhodey—"

"—was the obvious choice, and don't say Happy either because that doesn't count. Go ahead, continue," she threw right back, and Tony noticed a spark appear back in her when she did so. For the time being, everything felt healed. "...I'm sensing stalling. What, did you realize you can't say Vision?"

"I think he'd be a great dad."

"He would never stop worrying."

"Doesn't just apply to your own kids."

Lizzie noted the warmth in the reply, but she was already set on a new point. "I know you don't trust Peter with your future kid more than me—"

"—oh, never."

"That's all I needed to know."

"But I definitely trust Dum-E more than both of you."

"Tony, shut the hell up. I said that's all I needed to know."

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Author's Note:

RUNS.