┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ━━━━┑
chapter eleven
NEW BEGINNINGS
┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
┊　　┊　　┊ 　 ┊ 　┊　　┊　　┊
┊　　┊　　┊ 　 ☆ 　┊　　┊　　┊
┊　　┊　　 ✬ 　 　 　✬ 　 ┊　 ┊
┊　　★ 　　　 　 　 　　　　★　 ┊
☆ 　　　　　　 　 　 　　　　　　 ☆

WHEN CERES EXITS the bar at four in the morning, Ilyas is waiting outside for her, which is the strangest sight of the night so far. He leans against the back alley, one hand shoved into the pocket of his coat, the other fiddling with a mini lighter. His thumb continuously strikes the sparkwheel and allows the flame to dance for a few moments before extinguishing it. He doesn't appear to be smoking anything for once, but the stench of cigarettes clings to him regardless.

Ceres wrinkles her nose at the smell, which overpowers all of the other unpleasant scents mingling in the dark alley. She shoves her mittened hands into her pockets and shivers at the freezing temperature.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Good to see you, too," Ilyas replies sardonically. He puts his lighter away and sniffles. "I was out when I realized your shift was almost over, so I thought I'd wait for you."

"Out doing what?"

"Things. And stuff."

Ceres doesn't know why she bothers asking anymore. She'll either get a cryptic non-response or a long-winded, flat-out lie. One time Ilyas said he was "doing acid with the Obamas" when he was actually getting a jug of milk.

New York is frigid at this time, with the sidewalks covered in snow that pours from the sky in icy sheets, obscuring the end of the block with fog. Ceres tugs her hat more firmly over her ears. The tiny flakes stick to her eyelashes, her nose goes numb in under five minutes, and she wonders how Ilyas can look so unperturbed by the awful weather.

The blanket of snow on the concrete muffles the noises of the city. Even though it's before dawn, it's called the city that never sleeps for a reason. Though salt trucks drive by to make the icy roads safer and neon signs indicate that a few 24-hour bodegas are still open, it all seems quieter. It may have been peaceful if Ceres wasn't so damn cold.

The snowflakes caught in their hair quickly begin to melt as they trudge down the hallway to their apartment. Ceres removes her mittens to get her key. Her fingertips are like icicles. She yanks off her hat as soon as the door swings open, sighing in relief. Her body yearns for the hot shower that's calling her name.

Ilyas's arm shoots out to stop her. Ceres stumbles into it, shooting him a questioning look, only to see his eyes searching the darkness of their apartment. The light from the hall trickles in a few feet, but it's not bright enough to illuminate the entire inside, and the shadows of their living space are elongated across the hardwood floor.

Chris comes to greet them as usual, seemingly confused why they're standing in the doorway. She stares at them expectantly.

Whatever put Ilyas on high alert wasn't just his cat blending in with the shadows. Ceres's nerves jump to high alert, her hand turning into a fist at her side.

Ilyas slips a knife from a God-knows-where and takes slow, measured steps deeper into the apartment. The blade glints in the light spilling in from the corridor. Ceres follows, tracking his footsteps so the floorboards don't creak.

It happens so fast Ceres almost misses it. Ilyas hurls the knife with perfect precision, and a second later, it embeds into the wall with a thunk. Ceres flicks on the light. The living room bursts into sharp color, but she doesn't have to squint to let her eyes adjust. The man sitting on their sofa is in clear view.

He's dressed in all black with a floor-length trench coat covering most of his body. His dark skin is somewhat wrinkled with age, permanent frown lines etched into his face. The most notable feature is the patch that covers one of his eyes. Even with one eye, his glare could cut diamonds.

He doesn't seem alarmed by the fact that Ilyas's blade had missed him by inches. He merely moves his head to the side, shifting away from it, and presses a finger to the shell of his ear. His fingertips come back wet with a small pool of blood.

Something tells Ceres that Ilyas hadn't made an error. He had missed on purpose, likely intending to intimidate, not kill. But it doesn't appear to have worked, judging on the stranger's blank stare.

"Your cat," he says, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his hand, "is very friendly."

"Who the hell are you?" Ilyas demands.

Ceres realizes she already knows the answer. "Nicholas Fury."

Charles had said he'd be in touch with them soon, but Ceres didn't think that "contacting them about SHIELD" meant "breaking into their apartment and sitting in darkness for who-knows-how-long."

"Please, only my mother calls me Nicholas." His voice is deep yet flat, rarely changing cadence. And he still wears that same blank expression.

"So should we call you 'the asshole who broke into our apartment'?" Ilyas asks. "Because I think that's much more fitting right now."

"I needed a place to meet that I knew wasn't bugged," Fury replies. "There are eyes and ears everywhere."

"Or, in your case, one eye."

Ceres whacks him. Fury does not laugh. There's not even a hint of a smile, resignation, or annoyance. This man's poker face is impressive.

"This is the director of SHIELD," she explains. "Charles said he'd be talking to us soon."

"I don't think we should let the whole breaking in thing go so easily," Ilyas argues. "How did you get in without breaking the lock? How long have you been sitting there?"

"Like I said, Mr. Ravel, there are eyes everywhere," Fury replies. "I knew when you were approaching the building."

"Right, because that's not creepy."

"I work for a secret intelligence agency. Surveillance is our thing."

"And yet, the rest of us would call it 'stalking'."

Ceres buries her face in her hand. Yanking off her other mitten, she tosses both on the coffee table along with her hat and begins removing her coat.

"I'm sorry about him," she says. "He can turn anything into an argument."

Ilyas opens his mouth to retort, but as if realizing that would only prove her point, he closes it. His Adam's apple bobs with an angry swallow as he glares at Fury, who glares right back, unflinching.

"How do you know Charles?" Ceres asks. "He's never mentioned you before."

"SHIELD has been in contact with Professor Xavier since the Avengers Initiative was drafted," Fury replies, folding his hands in his lap. "We thought it was smart to keep in touch with other super-powered forces should we need help. And by the time the help was needed, everything happened too quickly to join our forces together."

The thought of Scott and Alex trying to play nice with Tony Stark almost makes Ceres snort. Maybe it was for the best that the X-Men and Avengers never met, even if aliens did invade the planet.

"Joining our ranks would require extensive training," Fury continues. "Given your history with the X-Men, we can forego some of it, but you will still need to go through the basics and a skillset audit. Consider it a sort of... test to see what you're each capable of. Professor Xavier shared your files with me, but we would like to observe your abilities for ourselves to see where to best place you in the organization."

"Basic training?" Ilyas questions. "Like some interns? I was with the X-Men since you were a tot."

Though Fury maintains his composure, his voice gains a new edge to it as he responds, "I know of your background in saving the world, Mr. Ravel, but you have been out of practice for nearly twenty years, and SHIELD is much different than the school. We are an organization—we have ranks, rules, and yes, basic training. You have to learn how we operate, after all. But if you think you're better than us..." He leans back, but instead of appearing more relaxed, it makes him more intimidating, "by all means, you have no obligation to join. Miss Dahal has already agreed."

Ilyas's head whips around to look at her incredulously. "You have?"

Ceres flounders for words. "I — I mean, not technically... but I didn't say no..."

"We would like to start your training in the new year, so you have about two weeks to decide." Fury checks his watch. "There's a branch in New York that offers training. Once you pass, you can start working at the headquarters in D.C."

"How long will training take?" Ceres asks.

"That depends on you. Each candidate moves at their own pace. For example, if Mr. Ravel is consistently defiant, it may take him longer."

"So, when should we start looking for a place to live over there? Apartments don't just grow on trees, especially in the capitol."

"Captain Rogers has offered a spare room in his apartment for the time being," Fury replies. "He seems rather... fond of you two."

Ilyas raises his eyebrows. "Is he sure he wants to live with me?"

"He didn't seem overly concerned by whatever questionable habits you may have." Fury eyes the ashtray on the coffee table. "Though I think we would appreciate if you kept it a no-smoking zone."

Ilyas twists his mouth to the side. Ceres had assumed that he'd jump at the chance to return to action, but she failed to consider all of the differences between SHIELD and the X-Men. Under Charles's leadership, Ilyas had more free reign to bend the rules and go AWOL. But with SHIELD, disobedience would not be tolerated. And there is nothing more that Ilyas hates than rules. Especially rules he deems unnecessary.

"Think about it," Fury says, walking toward the front door. He breezes past them with the aura of a man who has seen a thousand tragedies, and nothing can disturb him anymore. Least of all a mutant who has issues with authority. He wants Ceres and Ilyas to join his ranks, but won't bend over backwards to accommodate Ilyas's hissy fits. Which is great. Ilyas has often used his seniority in the X-Men to do what he wants, and he could use a good knock off his pedestal. "I'll be in touch."

"Hopefully that doesn't mean breaking into our place again," Ilyas replies.

Fury doesn't answer. The click of the lock behind him is the only sound.

A beat later, Ceres smacks Ilyas on the shoulder again. Hard.

"Ow." He rubs the spot. "The hell?"

"You sound like a toddler," she says. "'Basic training? Like interns?' Are you capable of not being an asshole for ten minutes?"

"Actually, no. I have a condition."

Ceres throws her hands in the air. "Well, find some remedy for it or suck it up, because if you get kicked out at any point because of your attitude, I will not feel sorry for you. Nor will I quit in solidarity. I'm not giving up my chance at breaking my curse for you."

"Who said I was agreeing to join?" he asks.

"What, you aren't going to follow me?"

Ceres raises her eyebrows expectantly. Though Ilyas is a jerk, and though he pretends not to need anyone, she knows it's not true. He's gotten just as used to having her around as she is with him. He'd even gone out of his way to walk home with her tonight. He may never admit it, but he needs her just as much as she needs him. You don't get matching sun and moon necklaces with someone just for the hell of it.

His resolve crumbles by the second. His jaw ticks. He swallows. Avoids her gaze. Then finally rolls his eyes, heaves the biggest long-suffering sigh in the world, and says, "I need to see if someone at the school can watch Anti-Christ."

═════ ⋆ • ☼ • ⋆ ═════

Ceres did not expect Jada to burst into tears.

"I'm not leaving right this second," she says, alarmed by the abrupt 180 in the teenager's emotions—calm one second and sobbing the next. She's used to seeing Jada bubbly and smiling. A crying Jada is completely foreign. "I have until the end of the month before I start training for my new job. And I can still pop in to pick up shifts if needed—I don't know when I'll actually be moving. And even when I do move, we're still keeping our place here, so I'm not gone forever."

She's rambling, but it's hard not to, as if each attempt at reassurance would cause the tears on Jada's face to immediately dry and recede into her eyes.

Jada regains enough composure to say, "But you're my favorite coworker," and start sobbing again.

Ceres had asked to meet outside of work to break the news herself. They've spent many shifts together, especially in the latter half of the year, and it is partially her influence that made Steve and Ceres become close. She's become fond of Jada—she's like the younger sister she lost, filling the gaping hole Ceres didn't realize existed until it was fixed.

Luckily, nobody is in this part of Central Park to witness Jada's breakdown. It's warm for December, the sun shining above their heads, certain to melt some of the snow by midday. And thank goodness for that, because Ceres would have felt bad if it was snowing, and she didn't feel comfortable doing this inside.

"I'm sorry," Jada says, wiping her face with her gloves. She sniffles. "I've been so stressed because of exams at school and I guess I kind of lost it. I thought that you called me here to tell me that you and Captain Rogers were, like, getting married or something."

Ceres rolls her eyes. "I think you overestimate the stage of my dynamic with Steve."

"He got you that magnet. That's basically a marriage proposal."

She forgot she told Jada about Steve's surprise gift from the St. Louis Arch. Maybe she should dial back on revealing so much about her personal life, but Jada is so easy to talk to that sometimes the words just slip out.

"I wanted you to hear this from me before the rest of the shop finds out," Ceres continues, ignoring that last sentence. "I think the boss is letting everyone else know next week."

"People are going to be so pissed. You pick up so many shifts. I don't think Melissa has worked a Sunday in years because of you."

It's true—Think Coffee may struggle finding a replacement for Ceres's full-time work, and other employees will have to step up instead of relying on Ceres to pick up their slack. It's part of why she'd felt guilty about quitting. But she can't always bend over backwards for others. And now she's putting herself first.

Plus, she'll be back. She can't abandon Jada forever like that.

"I also wanted to tell you something else. Can you keep a secret?"

"The only soul who knows about Captain Rogers coming into our shop is my dog, so unless he miraculously learns to speak English and spills the beans, I think we're okay. So, yes, I can."

Ceres removes her mitten and holds out her palm between them. Jada sniffles, wiping her eyes again, the dark skin beneath them puffy and raw. She doesn't notice the ball of light glowing in Ceres's cupped hand until it's bright enough to pull her gaze downward. She stares for a moment, blinking.

"I don't understand."

The ball of light splits in two, the glowing orbs dancing around each other, rising higher until they fade out of existence. Jada continues to stare.

Then it hits her all at once.

"I — wait — holy shit — what? Are you a superhero? Are you going to be an Avenger? A—"

Ceres presses her mitten over Jada's mouth, shushing her. Jada's voice was quickly rising in volume, and if she kept going, soon the whole park would hear her.

"Sorry." The word is muffled behind Ceres's mitten. She pulls it back to let Jada speak. "No, wait, answer my questions. Are you a superhero? Will I see you on TV all the time? Are they going to start making action figures of you? If so, I want the first one, and I'm putting it on the counter at work. And then buying another for myself because holy shit. Wait, where are you working next? Is it with the Avengers? Is Tony Stark your boss?"

Ceres grins. "I actually can't tell you what my next job is."

Jada gasps. "Is it classified? That's so cool. Oh my God. I'm so not mad that you're quitting if you get to save the world."

She throws her arms around Ceres. Ceres returns the hug just as tightly. It may be cold outside, but the bond of friendship between them is bright and warm, filling Ceres's chest with love. She'll miss seeing Jada's bright smile and hearing her ramble during their shifts. But she'll be moving on soon, heading off to college, and it's time for Ceres to spread her wings as well.

"Don't forget about me when you're famous," Jada says.

Ceres laughs. "I could never forget about you."

"Okay, good. Because I'm going to bother you all the time."

For twenty years, Ceres has been afraid to forge bonds with anyone around her, worried that the pain of time tearing them apart would be too great. But now she realizes that changes aren't always bad, and following the current of life might just take her to a new sense of peace with herself instead of being stuck in the mud.

A distant call of her name makes Ceres look up from their hug. Steve is walking toward them, his hands in his pockets, a small grin on his face. She holds her finger to her lips with a mischievous glint in her eye. Then, pulling away, she addresses Jada. "I have a surprise for you. Someone wants to say hi."

Jada turns around and screams.

END OF ACT ONE.

________

a/n:

I FINALLY DID IT I FINALLY DID IT YOU GUYS

i'm embarrassed that it took this long, but it's HERE and act one is DONE and now it's time for catws!!!

i already have the first chapter ready to go, so updates should be quicker. thank you for being patient and i'm sorry again for how long this took.

thank you so much for reading!

— kristyn

( word count: 3.1k )