Soundtrack: White Ferrari by Frank Ocean
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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: Back to the Basics
𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍, 𝐍𝐘𝐂 ─ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋
𝟐𝟒 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
☆
If there is one sound Lizzie Carter should be used to, it was the beeping of a heart monitor. Specifically, her own. Of all the senses, her hearing was the first to return. When she registered what the sound was, the last thing she wanted to do was open her eyes and see the visual of the injuries that led her here. She could already tell something was wrong with her leg—considering she couldn't move it—but also noted that it hurt when she breathed too hard. Her sides ached, almost like she'd had an entire building collapse on her. The reminder prompted the thought of Peter Parker, and she could hear the way her heart rate spiked at the thought of him. Was he alive? Surely, he had to have survived the debris if she had without any super-healing. But surely, he wouldn't have stopped just because a building got dropped on them by the bad guy. So his fate was left unknown, and that did not made her nausea go away.
Lizzie squeezed her eyes, then she opened them in the same second to face the bright lights of whatever hospital was being added to her medical record. But it was night, and the only light in her room was a television mounted to the wall ahead playing the Discovery Channel. Kings County Hospital, she recognized, because she had been at this hospital when she was six and broke her ankle in gymnastics. Again, at eleven, when she broke it again playing centerfield. There was some bitter irony when she looked down at her left leg to find no visible skin from her ankle to the top of her thigh. A soft-casting, she realized. Broken leg. She stared for a while, already calculating the percentage she had of getting back to softball after an injury like this. How bad was it? She couldn't feel anything but pain.
She couldn't sit up any further, but she was propped in a way that allowed her to constrict her lungs without added pressure. Breathing tubes were in her nose, which meant she needed oxygen. When she tested out moving, a searing pain shot through both of her sides and she sucked in a sharp, quiet breath. Broken ribs, she'd added, and she finally acknowledged her arms for the first time.
Another soft-cast on her left hand up to her wrist, taping up her middle finger down to her pinky. Broken fingers, too. Lizzie expected the worst for her right arm, but that injury was the most numb to her of them all. Not a good sign. In a black sling, constrasting the blue hospital gown, Lizzie stopped there because she didn't want to know any more. She couldn't see her face, but based off how it was aching, her nose was broken too. That happened during the car crash, though.
Lizzie didn't process anything more than that, her brown eyes turning to the body asleep in the chair next to her. Dad. His hand was on the bed where hers was before, the other propping up his sleeping head to keep from falling. Dark circles coated his eyes, and a pair of sweats and hoodie meant he'd definitely been here long enough to change clothes. Her lip trembled, eyes stinging with the onset of tears, when she looked at her dad in such a state. Sitting behind the row of windows showing a crescent moon, Lizzie couldn't help but wonder how many days it had been this time. She promised she wouldn't put them through this again.
Not again, MJ.
Lizzie's ears prickled at the sound of the door opening to her room, on Lizzie's right. She didn't look away from her dad until she was sure he would sleep through it. He did, always a heavy sleeper, and she swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked away any unshed tears to greet the person. Only, her heart stopped, and an audible change in the monitor was heard. Burning became unbearable in her throat and eyes, broken nose stinging under the sudden impact of a sob. But she kept it in, so incredibly silent that her tears could not been heard—and they could not be seen—until Lizzie could make out the navy doctor's scrubs in the sight of the moon and the glare of the TV screen.
"This isn't how I left you..."
Steve Rogers said those words in an attempt to make her smile even through a current of tears in his eyes, but she couldn't appreciate the gesture. Not when she looked down at the fake, doctor scrubs, and then up at him with a sudden onset of panic. He looked different. If she were a surprise to him, he was definitely one to her. His hair was dyed a light brown, no longer the blonde locks everyone knew him by. A beard was growing on his face, and when you put every new feature of the man together, Lizzie would have believed he was a stranger. Just her doctor.
But she could recognize Steve Rogers in any room, in any disguise, in any variation of the man that might exist in this world.
"You can't be here," she panicked immediately before she could even think, whispering as softly as she could while simultaneously dying inside. Because part of her believed this might be some drug-induced hallucination, and everything was not actually happening right now. "Ross will be expecting you to—"
"—Nat has it covered. She wants to come up, too, but we can't risk it...Sam's outside."
Those words couldn't stop the tears anymore, and she felt them dripping onto her collarbone as she shook her head at him. "Steve, you don't understand. It's not just Ross. You can't be here—"
"MJ."
Lizzie couldn't be fooled twice, and her broken hand raised to find the dog-tags around her neck. Only, they weren't there. Dread brought her back to reality, and she wondered if a mirror would show the raw depiction of grief. She was dreaming. Again. In the place at the center of her chest where her heart lied, nothing sat over it and her hands ghosted over nothing but empty air. Steve Rogers noticed this action, and he stepped forward again, but Lizzie knew better.
"This isn't real," she told him, coldly. Firmly.
His blue eyes were just as real as she remembered them when he moved closer to the side of her bed. Inadvertently, her body worked to shift in the direction of her father for protection. Because Lizzie couldn't trust the versions of people that her dreams created. Lizzie didn't trust herself anymore, and even though it caused a severing pain to multiple sources of origin, she still managed to knock into Mike Carter enough that he woke up.
"Dad," she whimpered, wishing she could reach over to grab him with her left hand.
With bleary eyes, he stared back at her in relief, then confusion, and then they finally acknowledged the presence in the room with his daughter. Mike Carter's head fell out of his hands, standing up and suddenly bracing his arms on Lizzie's bed. When she saw that, and the following actions of Steve Rogers standing up straighter, nausea crept up at the thought of this not being a dream. More tears flowed without any stopping them, and she tried her hardest to wipe their mess away with her unbroken fingers.
"You can't be here, Steve," was repeated by Mike Carter in the same fashion Lizzie said it, to the same degree of urgency that made her wonder if it was inherently passed onto them. "There are too many eyes."
Steve shook his head in dismissal of the claim once again, and the two men were suddenly conversing without words as they looked at each other. That, however, did not last too long before Steve Rogers' eyes were on her again. Lizzie was too wrapped up in her own distress, hand hovering over her chest where her dog-tags should be, to feel anything. Anything but paralyzation, and a desperation for this nightmare to be over. Because trying to give her any semblance of hope in Steve really being here was devastating.
Wake up, Lizzie.
"I don't have long, but I needed to come...needed to see you," Steve said, directing his last statement toward her.
Wake up, MJ.
His address made her swallow, and Lizzie looked again at her father to try and figure out if he was real, too. Unbeknownst to her that this was the final sign Steve Rogers needed to begin searching for something. He glanced around the table next to her bed first, and when he could not locate the desired item, both Mike and Lizzie Carter watched in confusion and disbelief as the man went to the corner of the room where another chair lay. A pile of clothes, and set on the top, he found what he was looking for. Steve chipped off the blood that was on the corner of one of the pieces, then he slowly moved back to Lizzie. Careful, but with purpose, Steve held what she'd been looking so hard for out for her to see.
Her dog-tags.
"Mine and Sam's, Lizzie," he promised, like he knew she couldn't read them herself.
With her permission, he gestured them forward and she nodded slowly. Allowing him to wrap the jewelry around her neck was the biggest sign of trust she could give him then, but it was also what she figured would break her out of this nightmare most. When the familiar weight hit just over her heart, a wave settled over her. When Steve's broken gaze cast down on her again, and for the first time, Lizzie didn't doubt the full weight of it. Instead, the sight finally tore through the unbroken parts of her as well.
"This is real, MJ. I'm here. I promise. I can't...I can't stay long. You aren't wrong about Ross. I just needed to make sure you were okay." Lizzie grit her teeth together to keep the sob in, and she looked down at her body once again. But with all of the physical injuries that Steve could see, the worst were the ones happening in her own head. She was not okay. Steve looked to Mike for answers. "What happened?"
"I got crushed. Twice," she answered for herself. Lizzie looked over at her father when even his brows furrowed at the 'twice' part, and her nose stung more prominently than before. "I got into a car accident. I was driving."
"What?" came from both men.
"I had on my seatbelt."
That felt like a small detail considering a building fell on her.
"I don't think I want my license anymore," she finished with big, tears coming out of her eyes, voice cracking under the stares of Mike Carter and Steve Rogers. In that light, the girl had never looked so innocent and free of all excess fears. As though she were disappointing her father figures with those words, unaware of just how little her license mattered at the moment. "I did everything right."
Mike Carter was the one to step forward and console his daughter the best way he could, without touching her and causing any further pain. The action brought another burning rise to her throat, refusing the sobs yet again and biting down hard on her bottom lip. Lizzie looked over her father's shoulder at Steve, muttering to her dad that she needed tissues as she did so. As he got them from the side of her bed, she sniffled and prepared herself for the next hardest question. The one that came after she accepted she wasn't dreaming. That Steve was actually here. That someone else wasn't.
"Where's Sharon?" she whispered. Searching for any hints in the man's body language of where her sister was. Three months. It had been three months since she saw either of them. "Have you heard from her? Is she okay?"
"I haven't." Steve's mouth turned down and his fingers flexed uncontrollably at his sides. Lizzie knew Steve hid his feelings for her sister around them as much as he could, but she also knew he couldn't hide it all. "We haven't heard from her or Carson since the day we left the CIA...but Sam is still looking through different IP's and rabbit holes to find any signs of Carson. Someone was taking information about you off the internet deliberately, hacking into the system, and we thought it might have been Carson. Sam knows her tracks better than anyone...and Sharon knows better than to leave any. We were in Italy. Trying to find HYDRA and Red Room affiliates, names from Bucky and Natasha."
The Carter family members tried to pretend their hearts weren't sunk into their guts at the lack of information about Sharon Carter's whereabouts. That meant, if he hadn't heard from her since June, her and Carson may not even be alive. Stop catastrophizing, Lizzie. You know them better than that. Carson and Sharon were built to survive in a life of hiding and running. Carson's injury from the Triskelion Battle didn't make Lizzie any less confident that she was the only person in the world Sharon needed by her side right now to stay alive. That person wasn't Lizzie. It wasn't Steve.
"But she has Carson," Lizzie stated, like that was enough.
Steve and Mike both knew it was. "She has Carson."
"Was he on the list?"
She couldn't stop herself from asking, not brave enough to look either of them in the eye. Steve stared at her bruised face, from her temple to her jaw, instead. "Not in Italy. That's why we're here. The IP address deleting everything led us here. Which is why we thought we would see Share and Carson here, but..."
Understanding wrapped itself around all of the inconsistencies that had happened recently. The car following her, her dreams, the warnings about HYDRA, the IP address. Lizzie's head raised, and a cold front cast over her features. Steve could feel his heart separating with every indication of suffering that she presented to him now. Some were fresh, too much for him to have been prepared for when he walked in. He expected injuries, but not to an extent worse than D.C. and in such a short amount of time since being gone. But he knew how quickly trauma created its home in people. Others were not as fresh, like the ones of Ian Monroe, and how the scars he seemed to create were now covered by ones made from Liz Allen's father.
"He's here, isn't he? He was the one following me?"
Lizzie knew she was right, but everything circled back to the thought she had when Steve Rogers first appeared through that door: please, let this be a nightmare. Not like this. If this was the reunion that brought her back to Steve, HYDRA would always be a thread that kept them together.
"Following you?" Steve questioned, a downward cast of his mouth that clearly indicated he was not happy to hear that new information. He looked at Mike for more clarification, but the man had already been through the ten-stages-of-paternal panic when he picked her up after the event first happened. "When was this? Did you tell Tony?"
That couldn't be explained so quickly, Steve.
Mike Carter crossed his arms over his chest. "The license plate checked out. Soph already ran it, Steve. Trust me, we've pulled all the stops that we can here to make sure no one is following her. Not even the weapons dealers from the city knew her name." Mike didn't know that Liz's father had been able to identify her that night. "As much as it pisses me off, it could just be a creep—"
"No. Something felt wrong about it. It wasn't just paranoia...not just some random person."
Lizzie watched them turn to look at her, taking notice of how strongly she presented her evidence. What little there was of it. Even if all she had to go off of was the feeling she had those seconds before—she was being watched, not preyed upon. Not stalked. But watched. Being a girl had its fears on the daily basis, especially in the city, but she knew her surroundings better than to believe in any coincidence. Relief gave her enough confidence to continue because she knew they were listening. Again, with more finality, she shook her head despite the pain it caused.
"No."
"Okay," Steve decided then, with only her word to go off of. He had never seemed so unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, because his loyalty to her remained unwavered but she was not the same child he promised his loyalty to. "I'll look into it. Send me the license plate number when you can...we are going to try and stay close. Not in the area, but...Natasha knows a place a few hours away."
Lizzie's eyes shined with unfamiliar hope. "You're staying?"
"I'm not leaving this time until I know you're safe, MJ...besides, it's your birthday next week. I wouldn't miss that for anything or anyone."
Sixteen. The reminder of her birthday made her suddenly nauseous again, and her mouth tasted stale and dry. If she was honest with herself, Steve Rogers had been the present she wished for, but when he came home, he had Sharon. Even half of her dream being brought to life was more than she expected. Knowing that he would not be going anywhere for a short while, she sunk back into her damaged skin.
A wave of exhaustion hit her, and she tilted her head on the pillow with a quiet, teasing smile. "Can my birthday present be for you to shave the beard?"
"You don't like it?"
Mike grinned, knowing why she hated it. "I've had one my whole life. She's always hated it. Makes you look less...America, though, Rogers."
"He's literally born on the fourth of July," Lizzie reminded her father, prompting small laughter out of the three of them. "It is very Neighbor-Steve of you. Did anyone else dye their hair or was that just your impulses?
Steve grinned, his eyes taking note of the new dark locks. "I could ask you the same thing...Natasha's blonde now."
"I'm sure she looks great. How is Wanda?"
"She's still in Italy, actually. She worried that Vision might be able to sense her if they were too close to one another right now...she's healing," Steve answered softly, and he watched all of Lizzie's anxieties about her extended family fade away for now. Because all of them knew they had left her behind—that without her, everything felt lopsided. "She misses you. I have a few cards for you...just small things. They said you can't open them until your birthday, though."
That was all she could take for now, because even the smallest glimpse of Steve was enough to hold onto her sanity. The notion that he would be mere hours from here, close, made her hopes skyrocket in a way she knew they shouldn't with Ross lingering. Not much else could be said before Steve had to leave, a silence embedding in the air between herself and her father once he was gone. Like neither of them could believe it, and if the other were to speak, it would break the dream they were in. Finally, Lizzie lifted her eyes to her father, tears drying up as the compartmentalization kicked in. Her next questions would require every ounce of numbness in order to get through all over again:
"What's broken? Is Peter okay?"
Mike stiffened. He looked at her, and then he slowly sat down before he could answer the questions. Not a good sign for her or Peter, apparently, and she inhaled only to face the reminder of her pained ribs.
"Peter is fine. He came by to see you the night you got out of surgery. Broken tibia and tibula in your left leg. They were able to fix the pieces together, but you've got more metal in you now, Bug. Some fractures in your ribs. You broke your left three fingers, and there's a hairline fracture in your palm on the same hand..." he sucked in a breath, and Lizzie could see it was much harder for her father to get through the description of these injuries than it was for Lizzie to hear it. She wasn't allowing any of it to penetrate through the wall she built now. "You shattered your right arm completely. It wasn't a one-and-done procedure this time. They were able to repair the forearm but there were some complications with the shoulder area because of the scar tissue and pins from your last procedure. They want to call a specialist. Tony said he knew someone...I'm so sorry, baby."
Lizzie blinked away the tears and leaned back, tilting her head so she could stare at the ceiling. "Did you call the school?"
"Yes...Liz's father, Toomes, was caught by Spider-Man. He already gave a statement indicating he stole a vehicle you were driving and crashed it with you as an unwilling driver. You were in the building with him at the time of the collapse, which was bound to happen anytime due to the stability of the warehouse. They said they would allow you to do your school-work remotely, and they will have an assigned teacher or student aide come out to bring you all of your assignments...which is why I think it would be a good idea if you stayed at the Avengers Facility upstate."
"What?"
"Temporarily," Mike assured her, and then his face twisted at a thought. "And I don't want you to feel like we're throwing you away because of what happened, Lizzie. That...Stark has equipment and doctors that no hospital in New York will provide. Physical therapy that can help you, and technology that might get you back to full health sooner rather than later. You need to be there. Ma and I might not love the idea, but we know you will be safe. Happy promised he would watch over you when we can't be there ourselves."
"Dad, I...I haven't even talked to Tony in months—"
"I know that," he said, nodding. "I know you don't feel comfortable with him right now, and I'm not asking you to forgive him...but we don't have any other choice here, MJ. Ma and I will do whatever we have to to make sure you're getting the best care you can. You choose the terms with Tony."
Lizzie knew she couldn't fight them on this decision. That had already been agreed upon by her parents, and she could not disagree with it even if she didn't like it.
"Okay."
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𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
𝟐𝟔 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
"This doesn't feel much like a choice."
"There is no choice here, Elizabeth. Only a solution to getting you better. That is all we are trying to do here," came ever-so-eloquently from Vision as he continued to re-arrange her belongings in her new room for her. She sat on her bed and watched him, broken leg propped up on the three pillows he'd brought her. When she didn't immediately reply, he stopped putting her perfumes on the long, white dresser and turned to her with a frown. "Are you upset with me?"
"No," she replied immediately, furrowing her brows at him in confusion. "Why would you think that?"
He ducked his head, staring down at the Victoria's Secret Love Spell. "I feared you were upset with me over my actions with Colonel Rhodes...and Captain Rogers."
"I'm not upset, Vision. I'm not..." she paused, kissing her teeth as she tried to figure out the best way to explain how she was feeling to someone who could not fully understand all of the ugly emotions yet. "I'm not angry at anyone for what happened at the airport. All of us were there for a reason, and we only knew what we knew at the time, and what matters is that we all believed in what we were doing...what happened to Rhodey was an accident, Vis. I don't blame you for it. You shouldn't think anyone else does either."
"I fear Wanda might."
Lizzie ignored the internal combustion that occurred inside of her, prompted by the smallest inclination that Vision and Wanda might have feelings for each other. "You only worry about it because you don't want to lose her. Don't worry over things you don't know for sure."
May as well nickname her Hypocrite, she thought to herself as she said those words aloud. Vision must have thought the same thing because he smiled at her knowingly, and she frowned in response with a growing pout to it.
"I know. I know. I need to stop worrying about my injuries. But I'm tired of always healing," she told him, looking at her broken body once again. "It's frustrating, and I always feel powerless when I'm in these positions. I don't see how Natasha and Clint avoid this."
"I can assure you, I have seen their medical records and neither would agree they avoid it. They continue to do it, though. Perhaps that is their flaw, but...that is a choice. You can decide whether or not you want to continue doing the same, knowing you might end up in a similar situation every time...or considerably worse."
"Yeah. Trust me, I know," she huffed. If there was one thing she did know, it was that she couldn't live in two worlds. A choice had to be made. The delay was only hurting more people. "These days, it hasn't felt like much of a choice, y'know?"
"Because of the plant boy?"
Lizzie looked to the window, an entire wall made up of a large one with a seating ledge that she knew would be designated for reading once she could move to it. Padme sat there alone, having been placed on her hospital bedside and noticed for the first time once she was able to move around the room with the nurse's help. Peter had been to see her while she was asleep.
"He is here, you know? He just arrived. I believe Tony has an invited a large sum of people to formally introduce Spider-Man into the Avengers."
"Can you go tell Tony that he's lucky I can't walk, and to send Peter up to my room whenever he's done recruiting?"
"I will. Would you like anything from the kitchen?"
"No, but I'm going to order take-out, so I might need you to face the people to grab the food for me...please?" she finished. Vision nodded at his tasks, and then she glanced over at her side table. "Oh! Wait! Can you fill up my water, please?"
"Yes, of course."
Lizzie's eyes warmed, and she grabbed his arm.
"Thank you," she uttered sincerely. "For taking care of me. You don't have to, you know? Ma said she would be here right after she got out of work and picked up Sammy—who is very excited to see you."
"I do it happily, Elizabeth...there is a part of me that is also JARVIS...and he remembers you. You were kind to him. I have only ever seen further examples," he gave her a smile and placed his other hand over hers, squeezing gently. They separated after that, and he grabbed her Hydroflask. "I will return shortly, and I will tell the plant boy to grab the Chinese food on his way up. I'll bring the water back myself."
"I love you, Vis."
Vision's face softened.
"I love you as well, Elizabeth."
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When Peter Parker arrived at the New Avengers Facility per the ominous appearance of Happy Hogan in Midtown High's bathroom during a Decathlon meet, he thought of Lizzie first. After being assured nothing bad happened and the business involved Tony, he could breathe out a sigh of relief that she was as okay as she could be considering. On the drive to upstate New York, Happy promised him that Lizzie would be there when he arrived and he would get to see her. He hasn't seen her since that night. When he came by, she was asleep after surgery and Mike Carter opened the window for him to come through. He'd quietly set Padme down and left without another word, or specifically, another look at the full extent of her injures. He knew it had taken her out of school—out of classes temporarily, out of softball, out of the Decathlon meeting today—and out of being his partner in the field.
"You don't see that everyday," came from Happy when a quinjet soared through the sky, taking off as they continued walking down the hallway of windows to their left.
Peter observed it, but his mind was elsewhere. "Happy, this is great and all, but I was really just hoping to talk to Lizzie—"
"You'll see her soon."
"Oh, there they are!" Tony gestures toward their figures to a stressed-endured Pepper Potts. He grinned at them. "How was the ride up?"
Happy replied for them. "Good."
"Give me a minute with the kid."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. I gotta talk to the kid."
"Fine," the man replied begrudgingly, hating to be waved away by his boss. Happy felt considerably better when people he loved were in his eyesight. "I'll go grab Lizzie's food."
"You do that," and then he pulled Peter in with a welcomed greeting, wrapping his arm around his shoulder as they started walking together. "Sorry I took your suit. In hindsight, Lizzie was right and I was wrong, but I won't tell her that to her face so you won't either...actually, it turns out it was the perfect sort-of tough love that you needed, right? To urge you on, right? Wouldn't you think? Don't you think?"
"Lizzie almost died."
Tony sobered up instantly. "I'm aware, Peter. I know I should have done a better job watching over the two of you, but I didn't think this would happen...listen. You really screwed the pooch hard. Big time...but then you did the right thing, and you saved Lizzie's life. I was wrong about you...I think, with a little more mentoring...maybe from Lizzie if she agrees once she is back in business...you could be a real asset to the team."
"To...to the team?"
"Yeah. Anyway..." Tony gestured to the door behind them. "There's about fifty reporters behind that door. Real ones, not bloggers...when you're ready..." After a few inputs to his watch that reminded Peter too much of the one he took off Lizzie's unconscious body. He pushed the memory down, watching as a suit appeared from behind a wall mechanism. Peter gaped at it, somehow even better than the Berlin one. "When you're ready...why don't you try that on? And I'll introduce the world to the newest official Avenger: Spider-Man."
"I..."
Peter stepped forward to observe the suit in greater detail.
"Yeah, give that a look...so, after your press conference, Happy will show you to your room—your new quarters. Where's he between? Is he next to Vision? I know we didn't put him next to Lizzie," Tony asked the question to Happy, who returned with a bag of Chinese take-out in his hand. "Lizzie's not staying here permanently, though. She's just...hibernating. We'll be able to help out with the therapy. We're basically a part-time rehab center now...don't worry. Kids at school will be none-the-wiser, Parker. I've already written up a public statement indicating my charity work and donations to Midtown have been extended to help an academic scholar in need."
The answers all felt so simple, every single thing marked to perfection. Peter could be an Avenger, Lizzie would get the best physical therapy, he could continue saying he worked for the Stark Internship while she used the cover of Mister Stark's...charity work (which he could already see Lizzie getting very angry about as he repeated it in his head). But Mister Stark was baiting Peter, and Peter may not have been able to see that before he met the girl in question.
"Thank you, Mister Stark...but...I'm good."
"You're good?" Tony repeated, unsure if he heard that correctly. He blinked at the teenage boy with a variety of emotions. "Good? How are you good?"
"Well...I mean, I'd rather just stay on the ground for a little while. Friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man. Somebody's got to look out for the little guy, right?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. Then he paused, his eyes on the take-out bag briefly. "Besides...Lizzie's my partner, and I don't want to do anything without her. So...thank you, but...I'm good."
"We already have arrangements for Lizzie when she's ready in the future, but...we can wait until you're both ready if that's what you want."
"It is," he decided, more firm this time. Then he corrected himself. "I mean, it's what I want until she decides what she wants."
"Last chance. Yes or no?"
"No."
"Okay...it's kind of a Springsteen-y, working class hero vibe that I dig...uh, Happy—will you show him how to get to Lizzie's room? Thanks. No canoodling, you two. You already have one child to take care of."
A blush spread over Peter's face at the insinuation.
"I—it's a plant!"
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
The so-called 'quarters' that she had been put in at the New Avengers Facility felt more like an apartment to herself. Everything she could ever need was in a whole corner of the facility to herself, essentially larger than a studio apartment in the city, and part of that upset her. How easily and effortlessly she was handed such items, and that might have been why she made no effort to get to know the place. The other part of it was that she couldn't really move from her bed. Well enough that Vision didn't need to hover, but she had a feeling he was stuck to the wall opposite hers like a shadow waiting for any indication of a problem. The room itself was the same side as Wanda's old one, but unlike Wanda's, it was more open and a painted- dark beige that Lizzie didn't expect to love but did. It was cozy, warm.
Paired with the orange lighting set up at the desk, and then on each of the side tables around her queen bed (which was currently a therapy bed she had to use a button to push up, and honestly it was all incredibly unnecessary in her mind). Vision tried to make it look more like her room, the boxes of things taken from the apartment in Brooklyn she used to live at with Sharon and Steve now being moved to the New Avengers Facility. Maybe she refused to start this beginning because that was an impossible end for her to accept.
After staring at a wall for thirty minutes, a knock was heard at the door. She croaked out a well enough "Come in!" before wincing and taking a drink of water. The medications they put her on not only had her exhausted, but they had her dehydrated. Considering she had thrown up the first round of drugs they tried to give her, the new ones weren't favoring much better. When Peter came into view, he observed the room in full before he made any attempt to look at her condition. Lizzie noted that, but didn't fault him for it.
"Hey, partner."
"Hey," he replied quietly, just as open to her immediate comfort at his presence as he felt about her. They had gone too long without seeing each other. Their last moments didn't exactly go to plan. Slowly, with steps that felt like milimeters, he walked toward her. "It's...um, it's good to see you. I know there's a lot that happened, and a lot I need to tell you about, but I'm so so sorry for what happened, MJ. I never meant to put you in danger—"
"Peter."
"—if I had known he was going to do that, I would've gotten you out of there, but he played me...and you were just there, and I couldn't do anything—"
"...Peter."
"—he, just...he hurt you, MJ," Peter whimpered as he looked at her injuries, finally willing himself to come close enough to see the extent of them in full. "I wanted to...I thought I was going to kill him...I wanted to, but his suit...it broke. He was going to die, but I... I couldn't do that to Liz...I knew you would have saved him, even if he just dropped a building on us...and now, Liz is leaving town and he's in jail, and she hates me and you're...God, Lizzie, I'm so sorry."
"Peter," she finally got his attention the third time around after he finally took a final wary look at all of her casts, slings, and bruises. Tears were in his eyes. "It's okay. Okay? We're okay. I don't blame you. Please stop apologizing. Neither one of us were quick enough to see what was going on, and there was nothing that you could have done to change that. Dad said you got everything off me, though...that you called him. You saved my life, Peter. Stop apologizing when I was going to thank you."
"I..."
His lack of words prompted her next ones. "Thank you, Peter."
"I was just doing what you would've done for me."
She pursed her lips. "...did for you."
"What?"
"The night...at the lake? You weren't breathing. Tony wasn't actually there, which meant his suit couldn't perform CPR—which he really needs to get fixed, honestly—and...five rescue breaths. Well, more like fifty. You weren't breathing. Then, you were...so we're even, I guess?"
Peter's face contorted at the ending sentence, the idea of comparing their near-deaths to a competition unsettling to him. Only because that suggested that they would find themselves in more places like this in the future, and Peter Parker wasn't entirely sure he could stomach another scare again. Not after seeing her like that—not after seeing her like this.
"That competition stops now, okay?"
"Okay."
Lizzie met his eyes, her lip tugging to one side as she tried to figure out what happened downstairs based off his body language, but the teenage boy had gotten better at disguising himself. While she would normally praise him for the improvement, she couldn't help but hate that the circumstances had led them here. What she worried would happen to Peter happened, and Lizzie found herself in a position similar to Carson Mayfield in her own story. Because she still had nightmares of seeing her friend bloody and on the brink of death, and along with those nightmares followed the guilt that she could have done something more to stop all of it. Lizzie couldn't change her place in his story, but she could understand it.
Tilting her head, she decided to just ask. "Did you say yes?"
"Did he talk to you about it?" was his response. Lizzie shook her head, and Peter pursed his mouth together with a confirmation nod. "I figured...no. I said no. I told him I was okay being the friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man."
That one didn't surprise her as much now as it would have a week ago. "Oh, really? And he was fine with that?"
"Yeah...I think it was a test...you don't really think he was going to have me join the Avengers, right?" Peter asked, and his sudden curiosity made a smile creep up her face as she watched him begin to overthink his choice. No, Lizzie decided. Still Peter. "I told him that I didn't want to make any decisions without talking to you first. I want to wait until you're ready, too."
"Oh, really? You do realize how bad my injuries are, right?"
Peter squeezed his eyes tight together before answering. "Kinda hard not to, MJ."
"I don't have super-healing...and unless Stark has some kind of magic stored away that will heal me instantly...I'm not going to be ready. Not for a while," she continued, all but listing off the reasons why he shouldn't wait to be an Avenger until she was ready, too. Lizzie decided to hit him with the hardest of them all. "Maybe not ever. I don't want you to wait for me. Not on something like this."
"Well, I'm not doing this without you. So...I'll wait, and I'll help you through this however I can," Peter promised, nodding as he made that promise to both himself and to her then and there. He sucked in a deep breath, then looked down at her leg and arm again. The ghost of a grimace returned, along with more pain and guilt. "I'm sorry, MJ. I just...I forget you're fragile—not—you're not fragile. You're just..."
"Not super?" she threw out.
"You matter more than I do," he decided then. Not true, she denied, but the sentence thawed her cold heart, and she could feel that small inclination between herself and Peter that they could actually work. Not because they were perfect, but because both respected the other in this partnership. Both were determined to keep the other alive, but now more than ever, they understood each other. "Guess that's what it means to be a partner, yeah?"
She raised a brow, starting to smile again. "Oh, we're making it official now?"
"C'mon, MJ...Spider-Man and..." he paused, looking at her. "Wait, do you have a name?"
"Blindspot."
Peter somehow understood how perfect that was for Lizzie Carter. "Spider-Man and Blindspot."
"Should we write up another contract?"
"No. Please, no. We can keep it at a verbal agreement," he winced, thinking about the literal contracts of papers she'd made him sign regarding Padme. At the thought of the petunia, his eyes veered up to the window-wall, where was getting some sunlight. He, then, glanced down at the bag that had been forgotten in his hand. "Oh. I brought your food. Happy gave it to me...why is he so nice to you? He hates me."
"Trying to become my new favorite super-hero?" she asked as she slowly sat up with a wince, holding onto her ribs with her left arm. "And Happy loves me because I don't bother him, Parker."
He snorted. "Yeah. I'd have a lot of names to pass to get that title...and I don't bother him. I just...well...maybe I bother him a little."
At least he's aware.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
𝟐𝟗 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
"Alright, Parker. Back to the basics."
"What do you mean?"
"You taught yourself everything," Lizzie began, crossing her good arm across her sling in her wheelchair with an air of intimidation that made him want to hunker and cry. "Which means, even though you think you're advanced—and enhanced—there's still things you should know about basic skills when it comes to...well, literally everything. Combat training, espionage, surveillance—"
"You're going to teach me all of that?" he asked in excitement. Then he paused. "Wait. Why? I told Mister Stark I didn't want to be an Avenger."
Her face twisted at the reminder, and she shook her head. "It's not about that...I thought the same thing, you know? That all of it was some kind of training to be a super-hero. Still not an Avenger. Everything I learned, regardless of who I learned it from, has kept me alive at some point...so I'm going to help you not die...'cause I'm getting tired of saving your life. It's not really been ending up in my favor."
"...not to be insensitive, because I'm going to apologize over what happened until the day you finally kill me over it, but how exactly are you planning on teaching me all of that? I mean, the spy stuff I get, but combat training?"
Peter's pointed look to her clearly-broken leg, then to her shattered right arm and shoulder, finished the statement without actually needing to say the statement. As though she had forgotten. When he met her eyes again, he expected a glower, but got a conniving grin that made him even more concerned than he was when she first began the conversation.
"Oh, I have a solution for that."
"What kind of solution, Lizzie?"
Lizzie grinned, and then she looked over her shoulder. "You can come out!"
The sound of a door opening, and Lizzie continued to grin as the boy appeared coming down the hallway. Peter Parker couldn't exactly identify who he expected, but Arthur Langley was close to the bottom of that list. Peter wished he had been there to see the boy's initial reaction to seeing the New Avengers Facility, likely mirroring his own. The boy smirked when he saw Peter and came to stand behind Lizzie's wheelchair. The two of them looked ready to conspire hell on Earth.
"Peter..." Lizzie slurred his name slowly, then she looked lovingly up at her friend behind her. "Did you know Art is on the wrestling team?"
Peter glowered, taking the expression he expected from her. "I did."
"Mhm..do you see where I'm going with this?"
"I do."
"If you hurt him, I will beat you to death with my crutches."
Peter noticed the way Art snorted, like he was ready and willing to accept the challenge of Peter managing that, and competition flared up in Peter's chest. Lizzie's reminder echoed seconds later, and he could see in her unyielding brown eyes that she wasn't joking in the slightest. Peter had a feeling she'd gotten the intrusive thought once or twice already since she got the crutches yesterday, but that would be the first time she verbally said it.
Peter nodded. "Got it...but I wouldn't hurt him."
"I've said that. I've also given multiple black eyes and broken noses to people I didn't mean to because I wasn't focused, so..." she raised her eyebrows at him, shifting back in her chair. As she did so, she gestured to Art to go further out. "Alright. First lesson of not dying, Parker. Don't get distracted. Not by anything or anyone, even if it's me or Ned or a cat. Not unless it's something you need to attend to, then you make that choice but not impulsively...and don't even try and say you know this already, Parker. I have firsthand experience seeing the opposite, so if you want me to—"
"No," he grumbled, shooting her a glare. "You know, you keep calling us partners but you're feeling a lot like my boss right now."
The comment made Lizzie pause, and her face softened immediately when she realized she was sounding more like a drill sergeant than she meant to. More like Spy Sharon. More like Agent Thirteen. More like Agent Carter—and that was not who Lizzie was, not all parts of her.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, and Peter's tense shoulders dropped at the apology. "You're right."
He nodded, giving her a brief smile to show that he didn't take it personally. Arthur, standing next to Peter, tried his hardest not to gawk in disbelief at the short exchange, but he couldn't help it. The action was such a deviation to how the girl usually responded, but it was also surprising that Peter spoke up. The friend of the two couldn't help but see the kinks and compromises being worried out in their partnership right before his eyes. Maybe Peter Parker was Spider-Man.
And maybe Spider-Man and Blindspot could both learn something from each other. But for now, Art would keep that on the down-low.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ─ 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍, 𝐍𝐘𝐂
𝟏 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
Lizzie's sixteenth birthday falling on a Saturday would have been a gift in the grand scheme of things, but because she had little mobility and the idea of leaving to do anything felt like an impossible task, a small birthday was all she wanted. Sophia Carter didn't do 'small birthdays,' even when she tried (and she did try this time). To summarize how her morning began with a controlled amount of context, considering half of it would cause an immediate migraine:
"Oof...wha...?"
"HAPPY SWEET SIXTEEN, MJ!"
Having been woken up to her bedroom light in the Carter apartment flickering on, and then two bodies barreling through it, made her wake immediately. Suddenly a confetti popper was blown, different long colorful tendrils escaping through her bedroom. "Jesus...okay, okay, okay—" but the singing continued. Taylor Brentwell stood next to Lizzie's mom, the two grinning from ear-to-ear as they crowded around her bed. That weekend, she'd told her parents she wanted to be home and not at the Avengers Facility. Neither were going to protest to having her home.
"Ma, Ma...okay, I get it. Happy Birthday to me, please don't kill me," she choked out, barely able to breathe as her mother crushed her to her chest with little mind to her broken fingers. "Broken everywhere, remember?"
She scoffed. "Like I'd forget."
"Let me through, Ma," Taylor said next, and Sophia backed away so that her best friend could weasel her way next to Lizzie. She patted her good leg. "Happy Birthday, MJ. All of your presents are currently stuck in transit somewhere, so I screenshotted the pictures to send you until they arrive for your eighteenth birthday."
Lizzie grinned as she talked about the present so casually, going to grab her phone to begin sending all the pictures. Taylor took the news of the accident well, considering. If not with immediate tears when she first saw how bad it was days ago, she got through it well and promised to tell the others the updates. Not moments after Taylor and Ma did another two bodies rush through the door, Mike Carter carrying Baby Sammy on his shoulders and grinning as they ran in. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIZZIE!" followed by some muffled jargon of syllables from Sammy that their father's perfect ones covered.
Later on in the day was when Lizzie got to see her other friends for the first time since the accident, save for Taylor, and Peter who pretended he had seen her when he brought his chemistry notes to her. Eli and Abe barely blinked an eye. Michelle Jones looked considerably less convinced, but each were too excited to see Lizzie that nothing else really mattered. Word got around about the accident at Midtown, and nearly everyone was whispering gossip about her and Liz Allen simultaneously. Lizzie didn't need to know that, and none of her friends would be the first to say it. Catherine Clemins reached out that night, at midnight, with a short and kind text telling her that she hoped she was recovering well, Happy Birthday, and if she ever needed anything to let her know. Lizzie felt she handled her first real heartbreak well (she so-totally wasn't over it).
At the end of the day, Lizzie had a big pile of presents combined from everyone who had visited her throughout the day. Some were shipped from family members outside of the country, and she was excited to read about her cousins—but what truly struck her heart was the growing amount of signatures, doodles, and quotes being overtaken on her casts. Art and Michelle spent most of their time on her leg casting, each having worked off the others last session to complete a floral background with a portrait of Rosie The Riveter. Miscellaneous signatures compiled on her arm, and Peter added a sly spider-web when she was distracted in conversation that she couldn't even hate.
All of the presents made her smile, the cards attached even more, especially when she read the one from Michelle. Despite everything, including ditching her at Homecoming, the teenage girl continued to stay in Lizzie's support system. Taylor's made her cry, only because she printed out a collage of pictures to be hung up at the 'Stark Rehab Institute' while she was there. Peter Parker's gift was most surprising to her, only because she hadn't expected it.
Frank Ocean's newest album wrapped in a dark blue paper, with a bright yellow sticky-note on top. Reading, 'Stop repeating the same song in class. The other songs are good too. Happy Birthday, partner!' in nearly-illegible handwriting that made her grin immediately when she realized he'd been forced to hear her play White Ferrari on repeat for an entire month straight in class.
Then, she got to the letters she'd been longing to read for a week. She opened them as they appeared in the stack, but certain ones could be deciphered with the signature and nickname chosen. The first one was from Wanda. Specific to the L, with a curve in its name, on a grey envelope. She opened it easily, smiling when she saw a postcard of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Flipping it over, she saw a small note with 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIZZIE!' written larger than the rest at the top.
If you were here, I would ask you how this is possible. I feel tempted to fix it. I miss you. I am well, sister. Happy Sweet Sixteen. Eat some cake for me.
Love, Wanda.
The next one was from Sam. Baby Carter gave it away. She opened the blue envelope, a true birthday card inside. The front of it had a large '16' on the top of it, but underneath was a long quote: "BY YOUR AGE, ALEXANDER THE GREAT FOUNDED HIS FIRST COLONY, ALBERT EINSTEIN BEGAN WORK ON HIS THEORY OF RELATIVITY & FRANZ SCHUBERT HAD WRITTEN HIS FIRST SYMPHONY BUT YOU'VE DONE STUFF TOO, RIGHT?" and she couldn't stop the uncontrollable grin as she opened it to see what the man had written inside.
I'd bet on you over them every time. Focus on the good days, Baby Carter. Happy Sweet Sixteen! Whenever I see you again, I want to be the one to teach you to drive stick-shift...oh, yeah. Buckle up, SJ. Love you forever, kid. Make sure you polish those tags. Pristine condition.
Lizzie's hands curled around the dog-tags around her neck, having been soaked for a solid three hours and cleaned of all remnants of blood and debris from the accident. She had to gnaw on her bottom lip, already chapped from her anxiety these days, to continue reading the rest. Natasha's was next, and she pulled at the envelope only to have a picture fall out into her lap. Lizzie blinked, and she grabbed the picture to see who was on the front of it.
A polaroid had been taken, two women, one of them grinning in the front while Natasha looked less pleased to be in the picture standing just behind the shorter girl. They were inside of a home Lizzie didn't recognize. She still had red hair, but she wore a white suit Lizzie had never seen before either. When was this taken? How recent?
But what Lizzie couldn't help but feel—as an unwavering fact: she recognized the other girl with Natasha in the picture.
"What the hell?" she whispered to herself, a spike of adrenaline rushing through her chest as she inspected the blonde girl in closer detail. Everything, the braids, and the structure of her face, all of it had been seen before in dreams. Usually ones that happened after her training with Natasha months ago. Ones that become nightmares of what the Red Room had been like for Natasha Romanoff, when she had gained the Black Widow name.
With shaking hands, she flipped it over. On the back, Natasha had written a small note: Two families is a blessing, and I understand it better now. Happy Birthday, Lizzie. Love, Nat.
Putting the picture on her bedside, taking cautious glances at the blonde woman again, she turned back to the remaining letter in the pile. From the process of elimination, she knew that Steve's was last. However, his handwriting was known to her. Like her mother and father's, she had spent class time forging the man's signature for shits and giggles to see if she could start an illegal side-business in plagiarization. MJ was written on a white envelope, and she opened it to find an Avengers-themed birthday card that was definitely meant for a one-year-old—but he wrote a sloppy six in the space next to the '1'.
She laughed, opening the card with a sniffle to see what he had written inside.
MJ, this is how old you are to me. I can't believe you're sixteen now...stop growing up, okay? And stop worrying about me...about all of us. It's our job to worry about you. I'm so proud of you. I know your Aunt Peggy is even more proud. I'll be there for all of the birthdays I can be, Lizzie. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life. Love, Neighbor-Steve.
And despite all of her broken pieces, Lizzie felt considerably more whole on her sixteen birthday. But just like Peter, now she must go back to the start. Back to the basics. Time to heal, Lizzie.
But this, for Lizzie Carter, would be marked as the beginning of the greatest low yet.
The beginning of the end.
▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐋𝐎𝐖.
COMING NEXT:
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐄𝐍𝐃.
"Patience is over-rated."
▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
Author's Note:
TA...DA! Y'all really thought we were going to wait until forever to see Steve again? Like he would miss out on MJ's birthday, even with the government after him. One of my favorite things to write NATM is the ending parts, only because I enjoy the feeling of writing endings...and being able to write for SO much material is great. My only goal in NATM is to make it feel like Lizzie's ACTUALLY in the MCU, in other movies and other parts. Not just exclusively Spider-Man's love interest!
Another part down...this is the part where we give our reviews of part one and part two. I'll give mine from a writer's perspective:
Part One: 10/10 full nostalgia, baby Lizzie and Steve make me want to cry in a hole. This feels like Lizzie's origin story and it makes me want to go back and read up until the bad parts. I LOVED writing it, and most of that was because I had so much freedom.
Part Two: 9/10 incredibly taxing, very heartbreaking for Lizzie, but also very necessarily. Very much the "second" era that characters go through in stories, and we got to see more of who Lizzie Carter really is instead of who she was pretending to be in Part One. Also...we got the intro to her and Peter. We get the origin story of Spider-Man and Blindspot...but I deduct a writing point because some of the movie scenes made me want to rip off my arms.
Thank you guys for being so active and sticking with me. I write, and I make all of these edits, and fun things for the NATM-MCU Universe because you guys love all parts of Lizzie as much as I do. That's all I could ask for as the author of this book. So thank you.
Next up is some intermissions and 'in between years' since Infinity War is not until 2018 and we are in 2016...we have a little storyline going with a certain O'Captain My Captain.