LIAR, LIAR ━━𝐓. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦...

Catherine Crawford was, more than anything, content. She had a nice house, a decent job, enough money, and two daughters, who she loved more than life itself. Her home was cozy, albeit a little secluded, but it was a nice change of pace compared to what her life had been like not even ten years prior.

She sat on the sofa, laptop switched on but her attention elsewhere, watching in amusement as her older daughter, Loghan, trifled through the kitchen drawers, in search of something she was muttering about.

"If you tell me, maybe I can help you," Catherine suggested with a knowing smile.

Loghan, in her frustration, slammed a drawer shut, causing the older woman to widen her eyes slightly. "Mom, do you know where my necklace is? The one Ricky gave me?"

Catherine furrowed a brow. "Necklace? Why would it be in the kitchen?"

"Lucy got mad because I was talking to him on the phone and now I can't find it," Loghan crossed her arms over her chest.

Ah. Classic older sister. She'd done this dance many times with Amber. "You sure you didn't say anything to her?"

"No!" Loghan's eyes betrayed her, showing her mother exactly what she was trying to gauge: she was lying.

"Well, I could help you, but I don't think that'll do much," Catherine shrugged. "Go talk to your sister. I think she's just starting to feel left out ever since Ricky came into the picture."

"So? She's such a baby, she should find friends her own age, why does she have to bother me all the time?" Loghan said it quickly, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, it seemed like the regret started to weigh in.

Catherine didn't say anything, just gave the 15-year-old a pointed look and nodded towards the hallway to her left.

Loghan groaned dramatically and muttered a quiet, "Fine," as she trudged down the hall towards her sister's room.

Now that the girls were out of the room, Catherine could finally turn her attention to the report sitting in front of her, in all of it's boring glory. She began to type, writing about the findings of the test they ran for sales growth.

Her mind wandered back to brighter days, when she wrote about whatever she wanted. When she went to parties and galas and big, lavish buildings to get the biggest story she could. Faintly, the image of a boy with thick lashes and sleek glasses came to her mind, a grin on his face as they zoomed down the side of a hill in a sports car she'd never be able to afford. She could still remember the sound of his laugh, the way he snorted whenever she criticized him about his apathy to the world's issues, the look in his eyes that night when she told him she liked him, really liked him. Then the memory came flashing back of the last night she saw him, the dread that filled her as she looked at a positive pregnancy test weeks after, her grief at having to go off the grid, and never being able to see that boy again.

Truthfully, Catherine missed it. She missed pretending like nothing mattered with him, spontaneous trips to random places, drinking on the beach, eating at random diners the morning after, their heads pounding as they both exchanged insults with wide grins.

But she couldn't go back. And looking at it now, she wouldn't change a thing. If things were different, if the circumstances hadn't doomed them from the start, she wouldn't have Lucille. And she would never give up her daughter, either one, for any amount of excitement or adventure. That was the whole point of moving away, of living in middle-of-nowhere Kansas, working a simple sales job she could do from home, cutting contact with Coulson, Fury, and Barton. She'd even lost touch with Amber, the access to her records sealed away along with the power of her badge.

"Breaking news here tonight, official reports saying that CEO Tony Stark has been kidnapped. Colonel James Rhodes giving an official statement today saying the US millitary cannot disclose any details as of yet, but as soon as they can, they will.

Many online are in heated debate about what the reason could be, and who the perpetrators behind this attack are. Some believe that it is an orchestrated attack by the Ten Rings, a foreign—"

The TV turned to a black screen, Catherine meeting the eyes of her own reflection with an alarmed look.

Tony? Gone? She used to joke about it, saying that with how many people he pissed off it was only a matter of time before somebody snapped and got him. She didn't think it'd happen in this way, though. Not this many years later.

Just then, her cell phone rang, an unknown number flashing across the screen. Anticipation built in her chest, bile rising to her throat as she guessed who might be at the other end of the line. Pensively, she pressed the accept button.

"Cathy," came Phil Coulson's voice over the phone, the same timbre and evenness she remembered. "How have you been?"