y'all i made a small plot hole mistake YALL DIDNT CATCH ME ON (it's fine i'll tell y'all at the end go read the wlw chaos. i know the title struck the fear of god in you).

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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: Death of a Friend

𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 ─ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

𝟏𝟓 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑  𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

                   Casey Johnson pulled up in a black, Ford Focus exactly when she said she would. Lizzie timed it with her phone, still searching with no luck for any service. Twenty minutes on the dot at 11:07, the car was rolling down the long road (Lizzie had started walking twenty minutes ago, so it was at least a mile and a half) leading to the Damage Control Warehouse. Her car radio could be heard through the rolled-down windows, and the closer she got, the larger the pit in Lizzie's stomach grew. In those twenty minutes, she'd gone in-and-out of decisions such as walking her way back to D.C., then she contemplated staying in Maryland and feigning confusion to the Storage Facility drivers so she could hitch a ride, but the call had already been made. Casey was already here.

The recently-turned seventeen-year-old girl displayed a proper three-point-turn before backing up so that the passenger's door was on Lizzie's side. Lizzie shot her a mildly uncomfortable smile without making eye contact when she opened the door and climbed inside, putting every ounce of her attention into buckling her seatbelt like it was rocket-science after throwing her backpack at her feet. Her Airpod felt awkward in her ear, so she put that in her pocket with her phone and prayed she wouldn't lose it.

"...hey, thank you for picking me up. I didn't really have any other options."

Because swinging back to D.C. in a crisis with Peter was not one.

"Do I want to know?" Casey asked curiously, her eyes traveling to the rearview mirror to see further down the dirt-road to find any identifiable landmarks. "I feel like I shouldn't know."

"Would you believe me if I said I went on a really long walk? Thank you again for doing this," she fumbled around her words again, well aware of the repetitiveness now, but silence during this car ride terrified Lizzie. Was she supposed to tell Casey she had a girlfriend? Surely, she knew. Right? Lizzie posted C.T. on her Snapchat stories and Instagram. "I...uh..."

Lizzie couldn't apologize again.

"Twenty-two minutes is going to go real slow if you don't tell me what's on your mind, Brooklyn. It's palpable."

"I don't know if I should be in the car with you," she decided to put things firmly, knowing that question to be true. Casey wasn't necessarily expecting that as the starting point, but she contained her reaction well by nodding and turning the radio down. Lizzie's jaw clenched at the action and took that as her sign to muster up more words. "Um...I have a girlfriend now—C.T, and things are already a bit complicated right now between us and she already thinks I'm cheating on her—"

"You?" Casey interrupted unintentionally, face twisted at the idea. "And isn't she your ex?"

Lizzie groaned and ducked her head into her hands, digging her palms into her eye sockets. She hated being a teenager. "Not helping, Casey."

"I'm just saying, you're the most loyal person I know...knew."

The change of tenses scraped an old wound, not fully healed and only just starting to scab over. Lizzie pulled her head out of her hands to look over at Casey, a frown on her lips as she finally allowed herself to look at the other girl for the first time. Lizzie certainly had a type for brunettes, dark eyes on everyone she dated, but there was a certain sharpness to Casey's features that pictures didn't do justice. No longer were they just figuring things out (that wasn't entirely true), because three years had passed since they met. They were much older now. But from Casey's eyes, Lizzie now thought about C.T.'s turning to a glistening golden when the sunlight hit them just right before sunset and the way her nose scrunched up when she was mad, and however messy and complicated they were, Lizzie was faithful to her girlfriend. She gave C.T. a piece of her heart that she could never fully give Casey because of the distance.

That was the difference, and Lizzie couldn't tell that to anyone in the right words for it to make sense, but her heart could feel it. A betrayal that had not yet been crossed, but was bringing her there the longer Lizzie treaded in Casey's company. Lizzie made the decision to call her, though, so she would accept whatever happened afterwards. Even if the circumstances were not entirely in her control.

She was trying not to blame Parker for every problem in her life.

"I wasn't the reason we stopped talking," Lizzie reminded her out-front.

The sentence dug in a way that sold a few seconds of silence, so she searched through her joggers to find her phone while Casey focused on the road again. Upon pulling it out, Lizzie glanced down anxiously to see if she had service yet, wanting to get out of the present moment and just be with her team. Better yet, back home with her parents. She needed to know if Ned was okay—surely, they were just starting at the Decathlon, right? Peter would likely have already made it to warn his best friend. She had to hope Parker had things handled about the CONFIRMED BOMB! for—

"I'm sorry," was heard softly to her left, and a cold front ran up Lizzie's spine at the apology. She clicked the side of the phone and bravely faced Casey, who was choosing not to glance at her right now. "I know it was my fault. I guess... you're not the easiest person to explain because we didn't really have a label but we have a history, and my ex-girlfriend didn't like that I still talked to you."

Don't say that, Lizzie prompted in her mind, but was unwilling to say it out loud. Instead, her fists clenched momentarily and she looked back to the road. Her double-life was starting to mesh into a shitty Venn-diagram, and there were too many possible wrongs popping up in her brain right now. In the chaos of it, she desperately wanted to hunker down at Liberty Cafe with Steve and Sharon, like she did on Thanksgiving when the world was quieter and they were still with her. Lizzie just needed her older sister.

"I told her you were the first girl I kissed," Lizzie said, internally cringing at every single word coming out of her mouth. She realized then she would rather be back in the Deep Control Storage Vault on hour fifty with Peter Parker right now. "The cheating conversation happened shortly after that. I...I don't know. I feel like I'm proving her point right now."

"Well, one, you're not cheating on her by being picked up by a friend, complicated past or not...but two, you have like an hour and a half until your first game, right? You can forget the Decathlon. I can be discreet. Just stop, drop, and roll out and I'll try not to run you over." The suggestion made Lizzie send Casey a sharp look that clearly stated nothing about the suggestion was happening, which the girl clocked in her peripheral as she drove. "See? That's what I mean. I didn't think you would do it, by the way. You're loyal through and through, Brooklyn. She's lucky to have you."

Lizzie knew that was true, but she also knew the opposite to be true as well. "I'm lucky to have her, too, though. I get why she's upset with me on some points...the cheating thing just took me off-guard. I guess, sometimes I feel like she deserves better than me."

"She wouldn't find it."

Lizzie sighed heavily. "Casey—"

"What? Game on. I don't know what you expected, Brooklyn. I've been flirting with you since the day I met you at Liberty," Casey said so casually it made the other girl clench her teeth together, bringing her eyes to the roof of the car in exasperation. Then, Casey turned to give her a genuine smile, warmth burning into Lizzie when she met her eyes and saw the Casey she remembered. "I'll stop. First relationships with girls are hard. Trust me. It's never simple or easy."

"Speaking from experience?" she asked, feigning curiosity as she moved to take off her Midtown hoodie to free herself of the sudden heat taking over her body. The change of clothes were intended for after-the-pool long before she got locked in HELL with Peter, and so a worn, grey VA T-shirt she stole from Sam could be seen underneath. She paused as she put the hoodie in her backpack. "Well...I guess you already answered that."

Lizzie wondered if she had anything to do with Casey's breakup. She hoped not.

"The reason I broke up with my last girlfriend was because she thought I was cheating on her constantly, so I get where you're at right now. I wasn't—I would never, it broke up my parents—but she wanted me to change my personality and how I acted around people because she was insecure and didn't have any trust in me. According to her, I flirted with everyone when I was just being me. Food for thought."

"Thanks, Doctor Phil."

Lizzie let the comment come out a little more blocked-off than she intended as she thought about Casey's words more. Maybe C.T. felt the same way, about Lizzie's personality being the miscommunication with their trust—because she was too friendly with people? The thought brought a foul taste to her mouth. Lizzie may know a lot of people, but that did not mean they would ever be comparable to how she acted and felt toward her girlfriend.

"I'm sorry," Lizzie corrected herself, flexing her hands again. She wanted to hit something, desperate for her game to be starting so she could get her mind off things. The Decathlon wasn't her priority this weekend, but she did hope they win (and that Ned didn't have the bomb, but she couldn't touch Peter Parker's problems when she was drowning in her own). "I feel like I'm doing everything wrong here, and I'm just trying to make sure everyone else is okay—"

"Yeah, but are they checking on you?"

Lizzie didn't need to think. "Yes, of course."

"Okay, well. Are you listening to them?"

That one caught her, and she kissed her teeth as she tried to control the unraveling nature in her emotions—maybe she had been wrong to assume seeing Casey was the best part of the trip. Seeing Casey was seeing someone who could be too honest, and Casey had never been one to avoid bluntness toward Lizzie. That certain quality of hers had landed Lizzie speechless and stumbling over her own feet too many times before, and nothing had changed. That hold Casey had would remain over her whether she liked it or not.

"I don't think I'm listening to anything or anyone anymore," she felt compelled to tell the truth, trying her hardest to explain an unidentifiable feeling that rippled through her brain. "It's just...static. I don't want to hear myself think most days."

"Why?"

Lizzie's fingers uncurled and reached for her neck. "It's loud in my brain. I play music to turn it off, but there are times when I can't avoid it—it sneaks up on me, and once I'm in that noise...I can't find my way out."

The description nagged at her insides because even that did not feel comparable to what occurred inside of her mind every hour of the day, and she worried if she looked at Casey, the girl might be staring back in confusion—or concern, being that that one was a winner nowadays. Thankfully, she didn't need to look for any answers in what Casey was not saying, because she replied to the hardest possible sentence with an ease that Lizzie admired.

"Sometimes...sometimes, you just have to change the station. Life can move that frequency however it wants and it will, but there's still some music somewhere, right? In one of those stations. Maybe you're on AM right now, and you need to be on FM."

"Did you come up with that because your radio just cut out?"

"Absolutely, but it was good, wasn't it?"

Lizzie sighed deeply for having to admit it. "Yes. A little bit too much on the nose of sad-Tumblr-girl-quotes, though."

Casey grinned at the admission, not willing to put any more cards in their complicated deck right now, and so she decided to tiptoe into a different topic. "You'll be sixteen soon. You excited? Have you started driving yet?"

"Technically yes but also no—"

"That makes no sense, MJ."

"—oh, whatever," Lizzie made a twisted expression toward Casey, which the older girl caught again in her sideview and smirked at as she finally hit the main-roads. Back to D.C.. "I already studied for the exam portion, so I know the logistics of driving..."

"Of course you did."

Lizzie's caught herself smugly smirking as well, lifting one of her feet up on the seat to get comfortable. Unbeknownst to her that Casey noticed, and the easing of the tides calmed the other girl down as well—rather than worrying, they tried their hardest to fall into the people they were before they stopped talking. That was sometime after Ultron, Lizzie realized, and blanked on everything that had happened since then. Her memory was getting worse for the small things, and now the big things all melded together into one big lump of: CAUTION! DON'T GO HERE! in her brain. One of those loud stations she couldn't escape.

"How's Shawn?"

Lizzie changed the subject again as she darted her eyes to the clock and the GPS shown on the dash. They had another eleven-minutes until they were at the National Mall where their hotel and the Decathlon was located. The service had returned to her phone finally, notifications zooming down her home screen and buzzing with every alert. Happy Hogan was the first person she noticed: 'PARKER TURNED HIS LOCATION OFF, DIDNT HE?' which was then responded with, 'I'M GOING TO KILL HIM, LIZZIE!WHERE ARE U?' that ended in a message roughly thirty-minutes ago: 'WHY AREN'T YOU TWO AT THE DECATHLON?'

Sorry, Happy. She tried.

Continuing down the list of messages, she noticed the usual 'Update?' texts from her parents. Taylor must have been annoyed when she noticed her texts not delivering to Lizzie, given the sixty missed texts from her best friend (who she knew was exaggerating so she ignored them). The ones that she took more time on where Michelle and C.T., mainly because Michelle was her roommate and had to cover for her missing the Decathlon—which she did, with two simple texts:

Yesterday 11:56 PM

MJ ✌🏼

Hey, not sure where you disappeared to but I hope you're ok and safe. I know you know the area, just let me know if you need help getting back in.

And another which Lizzie paid more attention to.

Today   9:07 AM

Mr. Harrington got the times wrong. Leaving here at 9:30. Decathlon starts at 10:30, not 11. Liz is going around checking on us. I'll cover. Going to Monument after until your game. Text me when you can.

Today   11:19 AM

Lizzie

I'm safe. All good. My friend is dropping me off now, be there in ten. Let me know if you won.

As she typed, Casey replied to the question she'd nearly forgotten asking. "Shawn's good. He came out to my dad on April Fools Day."

Lizzie dropped her phone, the Decathlon-problem temporarily forgotten after texting Michelle back, to gape at Casey with the reveal of information. Shawn had been holding out on the right time for years to finally tell his father. "He didn't."

"He did. Dad was so confused—but accepting. Not confused in a 'what-do-you-mean-'gay'' kind of way. Don't worry. He was more upset about being strung along and confused on whether it was actually a joke or not. I think I paved the way for him. No surprises anymore to give Dad a heart attack."

Her eyebrow raised with a growing smile. "But did you come out on April Fools Day?"

"He wishes," Casey snorted. "I mean, he hated my ex—"

"Your dad loved me."

Casey darted her eyes to her, knowing. "Don't sound too cocky over there. He wanted to come to your games today."

"Is he coming? Is Shawn coming?" Both questions got out in one breath, and Casey went to reply, but Lizzie caught her own mistake head-on. "Oh. No. It's a work day, and a school day. Wait, why aren't you at school?"

"It's a Teacher's In-Service Day at our high school since the year just started, so yes, Shawn will also be at the game. I'll have to go pick him up, but I only live about ten minutes away from the Mall...he started freshman year. Can you believe that?"

Lizzie puffed out a breath of air.

"Time's weird."

"Very weird."

Before another conversation could be started, Lizzie's phone vibrated in her pocket to inform her she was receiving a call from someone. Panic flooded her senses, praying that it was only Taylor or Eli or even Baby Sammy—because she couldn't take anyone else—and when she looked at the screen, an exhale of relief could be felt. Michelle. Meaning that they were officially out of the Decathlon, she answered the call on the third ring.

"MJ?"

"MJ?" Lizzie repeated the nickname to the other line, causing Casey's brows to furrow in confusion. "Did you win?"

"Mhm...and guess who had the winning answer."

Lizzie's eyes lit up in excitement, and she nearly hit her head on the top of the car when she jumped in her seat. Thankfully, her seatbelt cut off the circulation to her neck and instructed her to calm down. BUT MIDTOWN WON! Michelle being the one to answer the question was the icing on top of the cake, knowing now that the girl wasn't one for competition.

"Eugene?" she asked sarcastically, then she grinned again when she heard Michelle snort. Muffled sounds of cheering were heard in the background, including a brief 'We didn't even need 'em!' from the boy himself. "Sounds like I was missed. How mad is Liz?"

"More worried. I told you were having a mental breakdown last night, and you needed to take a breather since it was a big day," MJ recited back to her, making Lizzie sink into her seat as she was reminded just how much she loved Michelle Jones. "We're on our way to the Washington Monument. Walking there now. I don't think I'm going in, but your team's bus looked like it's pulled up at the Mall near the field, by the way."

Well. FUCK.

"I'll be there in..." she looked at the GPS. "Seven minutes."

"Okay. See you then. Walking in now—oh, hey. You don't know where Parker is, do you? He ditched this morning, too. Flash was trying to start a rumor about you two but Abe shut him up. Ned has been acting like a flight risk all day."

"Remind me to buy Abe a Christmas present this year. Tell Ned to calm down and celebrate the win."

If Michelle noticed Lizzie avoided the question, she said nothing. "Gotcha. Be safe."

"You, too, winner."

Unbeknownst that barreling into traffic, hopping across cars, Peter Parker was realizing it may have been the right choice to leave Lizzie behind at the storage facility (and not like that, he chastised himself). Only because he really didn't know how to clean Mister Stark's suit, and he worried she would throw up all over it considering he was feeling nauseous over the current events.

"Ned! NED! CALL ME BACK! THE GLOWY THING'S A BOMB!"

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 ─ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂.

Seven minutes was a lot of time, in hindsight. In seven minutes, the scene in Washington, D.C. had been painted and the only part yet to be colored in was Lizzie. The Midtown School of Science and Technology's Academic Decathlon Team was currently stuck in an elevator after an explosive, alien BOMB! went off that Ned was carrying around like a pet rock. Peter, having arrived at the National Mall only for Ned to hang up on him, was already twenty-feet up into the air and climbing the side of the very same Monument that could explode any second with his best friend, friends, AND crush all inside. When Casey entered National Mall, the street was congested far too much for a mid-afternoon crowd. Lizzie and Casey shared confused glances, the latter getting them closer where a number of police cars had driven onto the grass and bystanders ran in the opposite direction from the Monument. Lizzie blanched at the horrific sight.

"What the hell is going on?" Casey asked in alarm, her eyes widening at the hysteria. She slowed down to watch for the pedestrians running through the road to get closer to where the growing crowd was outside of the Washington Monument. The Decathlon team was in there. Michelle said they were going there. If Ned had the bomb, he went through the metal detector. Double fuck.

"Remember your stop, drop, and roll scenario?"

Casey peered anxiously her way, noticing the way Lizzie's expression had shifted from anxious to alert as she unclipped her seatbelt. "Yeah?"

"I need to get to the Monument. My friends are in there."

"What?!"

"Never-mind. I know this place like the back of my hand. Just—" she paused with her hand on the door, ready to fling herself out and start running toward the Monument. Lizzie turned to glance back at Casey, a hand on her backpack to toss it over her shoulders. All motions that Casey blinked and missed by how fast she did them. "Don't stay here, okay? I'll text you when it's safe—"

"—when it's safe? Lizzie, what's going on—"

"I'll explain later!"

She'd already clocked the specific bench on the walking path that used to be her favorite, the Washington Monument about half a mile and a sharp left. The congestion of the place only made it more difficult for her to get through, seeing as she was going in the opposite direction of most, and those who were in her way were glued to their positions. As she ran, she dug her hand into her pocket, searching for the lone Airpod. When she found it, she was relieved to hear the chime as it connected and KAREN could be heard greeting her on the other end.

"KAREN! KAREN, what's going on?"

"The Chitauri core has detonated and caused severe structural damage to the elevator where your classmates are located. The occupants are in imminent mortal danger and have one-hundred-and-twenty-five seconds until catastrophic failure."

Lizzie's eyes widened and she pushed faster through the growing crowd, ignoring the grunts from people whose arms were victims on the way. "Where's Peter?!"

"Peter Parker has reached the southwest window of the Washington Monument. The Washington police have intervened with the rescue attempt. Would you like me to connect your device?"

"Yes!"

The first thing she heard when the line connected to Peter was: "Oh, I'm gonna die."

"PARKER, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU—!" was the first thing she shouted into the other line, having difficulty maintaining the conversation while she ran.

"—MJ! MJ, THE BOMB WENT THROUGH A METAL DETECTOR AND NOW THEY'RE IN AN ELEVATOR, AND KAREN SAYS THEY'RE ALL GOING TO DIE, AND THE POLICE ARE TRYING TO KILL ME, AND MY PARACHUTE—"

The screaming in her ear didn't help anything, and as she got closer to the Monument, she saw the small speck at the very top of the national building. The more obvious feature was the police helicopter parallel to where that speck was. Well, she found Peter.

"PETER! GET TO THE ELEVATOR!"

If she could see him, she would imagined his hands raising in disbelief, but because she knew they were glued to the top of the Monument, the only evidence of his mood (other than the screaming and hyperventilating) was his clipped tone back, seemingly one-upping her anger.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN TRYING TO DO?"

She huffed as the dog tags clanged together against her chest, and that brief second allowed a third party to chime in. KAREN. "Perhaps now is not the best time to argue. Peter, you need to create more momentum to break through the glass."

"PETER—"

"KAREN, DISCONNECT—!"

The command was soon followed by the sound of the call disconnecting. The loud, frustrated scream she let out as she sidestepped into the grass was observed by panicked onlookers, all oblivious to what was actually happening inside of the Monument. Normally, she would be wiser not to scream the boy's name to the public, but considering he might die—either falling to his death or by Lizzie personally—she wasn't too concerned. When she reached the break and the large, historical monument grew in size, her original plan was to get into the building no matter the cost. However, that went out the window when she caught something in her peripheral vision, pushing through the congested group lingering in the grass.

"Michelle!" she screamed when she spotted the girl standing off to the side, her height providing an advantage that allowed Lizzie to see her friend. "MJ!"

When the girl heard her name being called, brown eyes widened, and she prepared herself when Lizzie flung her arms around her shoulders. The height difference made it awkward for a moment, and the momentum of Lizzie sprinting nearly sent both girls into the ground—but Lizzie expertly maintained her composure with both feet planted, and she pulled back to look around for any other familiar faces with Michelle.

"Who's up there? What happened?" she asked the two questions back-to-back, knowing that Michelle needed some prompting seeing as her mind was scattered.

Michelle shook her head, blanking entirely. "I don't—everyone. Everyone went, and Spider-Man just came out of nowhere—"

"—okay. Okay, okay, okay."

The words were said to fill the empty space of panic as Lizzie realized, she'd made it here, but she could do nothing more to help. Stopping a bomb was out of her realm of possibility. A catastrophe of this level was only qualified for the Avengers. Peter Parker was not one. Lizzie was not one.

"CLEAR THE AREA! BACK UP, PEOPLE!"

"Let me through! My best friend is in there, you asshole!"

The second prominent voice was one she would have recognized even in a burning building, so Lizzie's neck whipped to her and Michelle's left to find out where it was coming from. Pushing against one of the security guards of the Monument was Taylor Brentwell, already wearing their softball uniform, standing up to a man that was nearly a foot taller than her. Directly next to her was C.T., looking even smaller in the swarm of people, bumping shoulders and glaring with a red face. Matching up to her already-fueled adrenaline, Lizzie's anger got the best of her when she noticed the way the guard forcefully shoved both C.T. and Taylor back and that sent them deep into the crowd of much larger men all shuffling around.

"MJ. MJ, don't—"

Michelle's warnings against instigating further problems were lost to the chaos surrounding them. Lizzie pushed her way through the front of the crowd, dipping out of the people and into the open area. By that point, Taylor's anger had gotten the better of her, and she was fully screaming at the guard again for pushing her and C.T. (which Lizzie would have been shocked to see Taylor protecting C.T. in a normal circumstance, but she couldn't think straight now). Another guy in a trucker-hat had come to the guard's defense, not an officer, but a middle-aged white man who looked ready to try and mansplain a crisis event to them.

Lizzie got there just to see Trucker-Hat guy move like he was going to forcefully remove Taylor when she walked forward again, and her body slotted perfectly between her best friend and the man just enough for her to shove his body back a good ten paces. The sudden hit from a new person was enough to send the asshole back, stumbling over his worn grey Dad-shoes like she'd just assaulted him worse.

"Lizzie?" was heard behind her, and Taylor's arms were flailing around her, grabbing a hold of her waist and hugging her tightly. She heard more faint, panicked jargon of words from her girlfriend over Taylor's shoulder. "We thought you were dead! We got here, and they said the team was in the building, and you weren't answering your phone—"

Taylor's voice piercing her eardrum was interrupted when Trucker-Hat Asshole returned. "Hey! You wanna try that again, little girl?"

Watch your tongue, little girl. Words from a ghost.

The arms disappeared around her.

"Yeah?" she didn't back down, her jaw jutting up at him tauntingly despite his size. Lizzie had taken down Sam Wilson before, and he was a trained soldier. This man was nothing to her. "That mean you like to lay your hands on little girls, asshole?"

Lizzie got her anger from her mother, but her father was who guided her through that moment. The words were thrown his way as she pressed her feet into the ground, fists flexing at her sides. Don't lose your cool, MJ. He's an idiot. The man took the question like a bullet, physically guffawing at her accusation. Lizzie didn't back down when the man took another step forward, others in the vicinity that heard the event now whipping out their phones. Not good. Lizzie's jaw clenched, knowing that she couldn't do anything now—eyes were on her, and God forbid, her thirteen-year-old-self's manifestation of viral fame could not be accomplished this way. Ross' face flashed in her mind, tempting the worst out of her to prove him right.

"Not so tough now?" Lizzie's words cut against the energy circulating the air, brows shooting up as she watched him glower her way.

Trucker-Hat Guy used a (pussy) line of defense. "Where are your parents?"

"What? You want to talk to an adult now?"

Hands were on her again, more cautiously placed on her upper back this time. Taylor was heard again in her ear. "C'mon, MJ...he isn't worth it. Let's go."

"Listen to your friend, kiddo."

Hey there, kiddo.

Suddenly the gruesome comparisons of the man in front of her were connected to the memories of Rumlow, and Lizzie's stomach churned when she finally realized why his nicknames were piercing so deeply. Rushing like a current of lightning down to her wrist, she couldn't control the weight her right shoulder carried. Lizzie didn't move when her best friend prompted her again verbally, so Taylor grabbed her and did so herself. Had it been anyone else, she would have put up more fight, but she listened to Taylor and allowed her feet to reluctantly move away from the fight. Well—away from a fight didn't look so promising as C.T.'s flushed expression was the first thing she ran into. Lizzie couldn't think about anything other than not killing Trucker-Hat Guy, and she grabbed a hold of C.T. and guided her through the crowd while maintaining partial eyesight of Michelle and Taylor behind her.

When they broke through the worst of the claustrophobic nightmare, Lizzie's adrenaline was replaced with panic that usually prompted an attack soon after. The four teenage girls breathed out as their lungs properly expanded for the first time. Lizzie zeroed in on C.T. rather than her own well-being, hands reaching for her to make sure she was okay. Then, she searched her girlfriend's eyes for any immediate harm and scanned her body for any physical injuries.

Somewhat-blind to the irony of the question, Lizzie's worried eyes pierced into the light pair of brown, clouded with past tears and present ones alike. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" C.T. scoffed in disbelief, her eyes welling up again, and she stepped out of her hold like Lizzie had slapped her. Lizzie certainly felt like she'd just been hit. C.T.'s hand pointed toward the Monument in front of them. "I thought you were in there, Lizzie! We thought you might have died! You haven't texted me or Taylor back since last night—we had no idea what was going on, you weren't picking up your phone, and the guards were saying a high school team in yellow went into the building and suddenly cops were everywhere—where were you?"

C.T. had been rattled with every form of hurt, careless to the two-woman audience they had behind them as Michelle and Taylor tried not to listen to the personal conversation. The truth was harder to disarm when Lizzie couldn't say it out loud to her. Not all of it, and to be faced with that standing off on the walking path of the National Mall felt like the universe was punishing her for trying to maintain both lives. It wasn't your choice, MJ. But it was. Peter Parker was her choice, and she had to protect him. Even if she was growing to hate him for it.

Lizzie blinked, surprised by her own tears kissing her lashes when she did so, shaking her head at her girlfriend. "I wasn't at the Decathlon. I missed it, so I wasn't here to go in with the others—"

"That doesn't answer my question, Lizzie," C.T. shook her head, sniffing as she crossed her arms over her chest. All but blocking any attempt Lizzie would make to get closer to her again.

Please stop asking the right questions, Clem.

Lizzie had the lie ready—fully prepared to explain that she'd gone to Liberty Cafe that morning and lost track of time because of the bad memories resurfacing—but when Catherine Clemins stared at her with complete vulnerability, wanting nothing but the truth, Lizzie couldn't bring herself to do it. A lump formed in her throat that she had been resisting for minutes now, and she pressed her lips together tightly, ducking her head ashamed. Lizzie should have stayed at the damn hotel.

C.T. wouldn't take her silence as the answer. "Lizzie?"

Lizzie barely tilted her head enough to look up at her, shaking her head and pulling her bottom lip with her teeth. She was sure C.T. could see her crying now, because she could feel her cheeks heating up under the pressure not to. At what felt like the worst moment possible, the girls lifted their heads up when they heard someone shouting out Lizzie's name from a distance. That someone had not listened to Lizzie when she told them it wasn't safe, and instead was walking closer to them, unaware of what she was walking into.

Lizzie wiped her tears, her face changing through various degrees of emotion as Casey got closer. The secret she had not been intending on hiding, but now she was left with no exit to run to. C.T. turned back around to face her, suddenly more robotic in her movements, and the only readable thought passing in her girlfriend's eyes was: 'Please tell me I'm wrong.' You are, Lizzie thought painfully. But I can't tell you why.

"Were you with her?" C.T.'s question came out thick and quiet, forced through the lump in her throat currently keeping her tears at bay. Casey paused, too close that she couldn't move away but not close enough that she was directly viewable to C.T. with her back turned. When Lizzie slowly nodded with more tears falling, a wince at her own admission, C.T. felt her heart break and called her decision then. "I can't do this anymore, Lizzie."

Those words sounded hauntingly familiar to their first goodbye, except they stung more when Lizzie heard them than when she was standing behind their protection. Now, the gravity of her choices left her here—with C.T. saying she was done, and Lizzie having nothing to win her back. She would never be who C.T. needed, and honesty about who she was came at the cost of potential harm. Lizzie would break her own heart and let her go before she selfishly did that. But what was the difference in what she was doing now, keeping things from her? It hurt all the same.

"Clem..."

"Please don't call me that," C.T. pushed out despite it breaking both of their hearts in the process. Then, her now ex-girlfriend rubbed her cheeks and turned to face Casey behind her. Lizzie prepared for the worst, but what she didn't expect was for C.T. to nod at Casey and give her a half-hearted smile with only kindness to show. "Sorry we had to meet like this...um, I hope you enjoy the game. You know, if it's still happening."

"Thanks, C.T....good luck."

C.T. nodded with another forced smile, trying her hardest not to compare everything she wasn't to everything Casey was. Lizzie wondered if watching someone leave her would ever get easier, but as she took in every finite detail about C.T. Clemins, she couldn't imagine how it could ever be easy to let her go. That was their problem the first time. With a brave glimpse back, the two teenagers had the painful interaction of meeting eyes, and Lizzie held the weight of the finality to it. Because it was not just a girlfriend she was losing, but a friend—a teammate—and the first introduction of what it meant to be a teenager in love.

"Lizzie...Lizzie, are you okay?"

No.

No.

"No."

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ─ 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍

"Spider-Man swooped in, heroically saving an Academic Decathlon team from Queens. The identity of the masked hero is still unknown—"

"Steve. Steve—"

The urgency of Sam Wilson's tone made Steve Rogers glance up from the file on the small coffee-table in their hotel room in Italy. Nicer than most of the others they had been in, but that came with the exception that foreigners took longer to place a face to a name than Americans did when it came to the Avengers. On the television screen was a headline reading 'MAN SPIDER CLIMBS WASHINGTON MONUMENT' involving a particular Man-Spider he'd met before. However, when the camera cut off from the Washington Monument to the crowd surrounding, his back straightened.

"—but the students of Midtown School of Science and Technology were not only winners of the Academic Decathlon today, but given another opportunity to change lives with their bright minds after being saved..."

Natasha, who had made her presence small in the corner of the room on the second twin bed, met worried stares with Sam as the reporter identified the familiar school name. Then, they focused on Steve, whose eyes had hyper-focused on the high-definition of the screen. In all her effort to go unnoticed by the cameras, Steve spotted her without problem. He could find his kid in any room, night or day. In the corner behind the largest of the crowds, wearing a grey T-shirt that Sam might have recognized himself, was Lizzie Carter. MJ. To the right of her stood the only other person he recognized, Lizzie's best friend, Taylor.

In the three months since they last saw each other (a record for them), Steve tried his hardest to find the smallest changes through what the TV gave him—the pieces that no screen could realistically provide for him—and came up short in the ways she had grown up without him there to see it. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, smaller than he remembered, but when she clocked the open path the cameras had to their corner, Lizzie Carter turned her body so that no one could see her face anymore.

"She's back in D.C.," Steve stated the obvious with stiff emotion, the words stale on his tongue.

Natasha knew where his mind was going. "They said no one was hurt. She's being smart—staying away from cameras. She's okay, Steve."

She's not. He knew her better than that.

"She's back in D.C.," he repeated again with more emphasis.

Sam understood the underlying point, possibly better than Natasha did because he had been there with Lizzie that day. For the end of it, at least, and while he did not know every detail of what happened to her before he arrived, he knew that what she experienced in that conference room with him and Rumlow was enough on its own—enough to make anyone hate a city solely for what nightmares happened there. Visiting D.C. meant Lizzie would have to say hello to the person she used to be. The part of her she lost long ago. The death of a friend, with a gravestone buried in the heart of the Nation's Capital, and Steve Rogers was nowhere in sight.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Author's Note:

I'm going to pretend I didn't do anything.
Guys, Art was totally supposed to be in the Decathlon parts and I ABSOLUTELY FORGOT. I'm horrible. I've been speedwriting through these chapters, and I had to make the toss-up decision to just excuse my behavior. Anyway, he was definitely supposed to be on the bus yesterday, so I apologize if y'all were like ??? cause he was mentioned previously being in it. He has an excuse to miss, though.

ANYWAY, let me know if you love me or hate me based off this chapter. No C.T. hate because I am oddly protective over her (maybe it's Lizzie coming out of me). It feels like we're at the climax of the movie and there's only twenty minutes left (which kind of true for Lizzie because —spoiler—I am NOT writing that boat scene since Lizzie isn't going to be there for it. It doesn't practically fit to have MJ there but you know I have my ways around a scene or two).

Enjoy some more spoilers for my NATM plans:

also known as: Peter Parker wins in (almost) all of them.