The Final Initiative

55.

A/N: 2nd to last :)

      "And that'll be seven-fifty" the tired cashier punched in the numbers on the register as the price popped up on the screen. I reached for my credit card that was in my pocket and handed it to him, knowing full-well that the employee was looking at me extra hard, as if he was trying to place in his mind where he knew me from "would you like to round up this afternoon? The procedes go to the children's hospital" he asked me, taking my yellow card in preparation to swipe.

      "Sure, uh, just go ahead and add one hundred on top of it" I shrugged, shoving my hands in my jean jacket pockets and looking out the window to the cloudy streets of the bustling city.

"One hundred... dollars?"

"Hmhmm"

      "Y-yes ma'am" he tapped in the new price and swiped the card, then handed me my bag and card "thank you for your generosity"

      I didn't reply, I just nodded in farewell and took the bag with my items. Morgan had asked me to buy her juice pops, and Pepper needed some spices for dinner tonight. The man at the counter watched me walk to the front door, and he called out just as I reached for the handle "you're the Stark, aren't you?" he questioned, already knowing the answer.

      I stared at my hand that was pressed against the door, and I unintentionally waited a long moment before nodding my head in response. Yes, that is me, or that at least was me. Nowadays, I'm not exactly sure who I am. The headlines believe that they do, and the people on the street who stare think that they have an idea, but in reality, I'm just as lost as I was at the start of all this. Only now I'm older, and there's no one to turn to, no one to run to.

The life that dad had promised in his message is one that I have to fight for, and most of the time I feel like I'm losing that fight. Pepper is there for me of course, and Morgan, Happy, Rhodey, and all of those closest to me, but in a selfish, twisted way... it's not enough. I still lie awake in a drowning loneliness. With dad gone, and Nat, and now Steve, I do not think that I'll ever feel completely whole again.

People say that time will heal, but time was the thing that took them all away. I pushed the door open, hearing the cashier say one more thing before I left the corner store "we are thankful" the door shut behind me and I took in a deep breath, letting my eyes close briefly as the chilly air cooled my skin.

If I were anyone else, that would have been a sweet and kind compliment, and it is, but it only left me feeling empty. But to be fair, that's the feeling that has been plaguing me for months. If I were anyone else, then maybe I'd have my family. I opened my eyes back up, spotting more pedestrians who were staring at me over their shoulders and whispering. They spoke my name in hushed tones and pointed their fingers. I hooked the plastic bag on my arm and walked away, heading down the sidewalk towards the towering Chrysler building with the bag swinging gently against my hip.

My eyes were glued to the pavement beneath my feet. No one spoke to me, not like they use to. People would approach me and ask for pictures back when times were peaceful, but now they form bubbles to avoid me on the sidewalk. Everyone knows about the death of my father, their pity-filled eyes tell me with a single glance.

When the world learned of his passing after the half of them were resurrected, they erupted in utter heartbreak. Murals were painted, statues were erected, and the merchandise tripled. Pictures of him are everywhere, and on everything. Kids run around with costumes, news anchors dab their tear-filled eyes, and charities open up in his name.

Biography's are published, artwork is created, movies are developed, celebrities extend their condolences, kids books are written, and much, much more. All of it is beautiful, and I'm blessed to know that so many people have been impacted by him, but... nothing that anyone can create will ever demonstrate how much he meant to me. They will never truly understand our bond, or our connection.