ELENORA CLUTCHED HER BOOKS a bit tighter to her chest when she heard a slam from the left side of the lockers, It was followed by a high pitched cry from what she knew was a freshman, and a couple of dark laughs from a crowd of older kids.
Another shout sounded in the hallway, and Elenora winced at the volume. She wished Peter was there to tell her which hallways to avoid, and who to not make eye contact with but he wasn't. He was sick and she was alone.
And reckless.
"And what makes you think-" Elenora quickened her pace to pass the crowd, but didn't quite make it without getting sprayed with a mist of spit. She was so caught up in getting out of the fight, and saving herself, she almost didn't notice who was propped against the lockers.
Almost.
It was Jaime, that small kid who sat at the table next to her. They had never talked, barely made eye contact, but suddenly, she had the overwhelming urge to jump in and call out the tall blonde kid who was terrorizing him.
'Be braving is about trusting your instinct. And not to run. Never run,' Tony's words repeated over in her mind. He told her this before she had left after a few tests on tuesday that had left her shaken up.
But she could get beat up, she had training today! And what if Steve found out? She'd be in so much trouble.
Elenora wanted to yell at herself. Back in the foster homes she would never run from a fight- but then again, she had nothing to lose. She had Bucky and Steve now, but as much as she loved them, she knew it shouldn't matter. Elenora was the same person, dads or not.
She swallowed, then exclaimed, with about as much confidence as she could, "Get away from him!"
All eyes peered over to her. The tall one dropped his hold on the Jaime, who plummeted to the floor, his face nothing short of terrified. Not just for himself, but for the fate of the girl who stood up for him.
Like father, like daughter.
While Jaime was worried for the outcome of this, the tall brooding blonde was not. Straightening himself, an evil and disturbing grin covered the towering boy's face. He smirked down at the short girl, with amusement glistening in his eyes. Crossing his arms over his chest, he hushed the crowd.
He took in her small figure; short, nerdy, with glasses to complete the look. Such an easy target, he chided mentally, why would she put herself in harm's way? He wouldn't have even opened in mouth if it wasn't for her outburst, he would never have noticed her.
"And who might you be?" he interrogated viciously.
Elenora began to stutter and started to retrace her steps, but was stopped when the crowd enclosed her and the boy inside a circle. It mimicked a fighting ring in Elenora's mind.
"I asked you your name, I didn't say to leave," he pushed out through gritted teeth. "So what's your name, shorty?"
"My name is not shorty," Elenora snapped. "It's Elenora. Now I have a class to get to." She spun on her heel, and attempted to make her exist, but he gripped her arm before she get away, turning her in his direction.
"Not so fast," he sneered as she ripped her arm from his hand, a scowl growing on her face. "You took the attention of the wimp of here," he thrusted his thumb towards Jaime, who she could see scrambling to get up through the other students legs. "Now you get what he was getting."
"Why are you such an asshole?" Elenora asked mindlessly, not even realizing her words before his face made the transformation, and his fist greeted her eye. Flying right into a locker, Elenora covered her eye with her instinctively, and looked up towards the boy. He looked nothing less of horrifying, the way his lip twitched and his eyebrows were raised. The crowd was sent into uproar when a kick hit her side, and she let out a grunt. Someone in the crowd yelled out, "Hit her harder, Flash!" He smirked at this.
Elenora had never witnessed so much hate in someone's eyes. "Get up," he ordered, gripping her arm and shoving her against the locker. "Who the hell are you, Elenora?" he growled.
"I'm no one," she muttered in pain, being shoved into the lockers once more.
"You're right about that," he told her. "You're nothing. Don't try that crap with me again."
Then the crowd dispersed among the hallways, and no one was there to help Elenora up, so she did it herself. Limping, she brought herself to her science class.
***
No one noticed.
No one.
Not a single person called out the black eye forming on Elenora's face, or the slight stumbled she had whenever she moved. Everyone passed by her as if she was invisible. Maybe she was. She was so out of it, she couldn't tell anymore. She went to her classes. Said "here" when he name was call. No one questions the new girl.
She was supposed to walk to the Stark Towers, but she remembered that Bucky told her that if she ever didn't feel well enough to go, to take the bus home. He said that he would be there everyday after school until 4:30, just incase she wanted to take a break. It seem like the perfect opportunity for a break.
Elenora was no longer just physically hurt, her mental dams broke and a lot of things came crashing down on her. Times in her foster homes when she'd get into fights- she remember no one caring to hear here side of the story. She was immediately in trouble.
Elenora was worried, to say the least, about how Steve and Bucky would react. Would they blame her? Would they hate her? Would she have to run, Again?
Every bump that the bus drove over shot pain through her stomach and heart, and she let out a series of small grunts during the bus ride. No one heard.
Her stop came eventually came, and recognizing the brick houses with fire escapes lining the sides, she took her leave from the bus, not even saying goodbye to the bus driver. Her breaths were becoming a little more ragged, and her steps staggered as she made her way to her home.
Home.
What a strange word it was to Elenora, it was something she never imagined she'd have, but now everything was different. The idea of the yellow walls and her half painted bedroom made her warm inside, it brought a smile to her face. But she wasn't smiling now as she inserted the key, and drew air, filling her lungs.
Everything was quiet as she walked in, placing her coat in the closet and taking off her shoes, mumbling a greeting to a confused Bucky.
"I thought you had training to day," Bucky told her. "I was actually just about to leave-"
"i feel sick," Elenora whispered, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. Bucky noticed right off the bat, and attempted to make eye contact, but failed.
"What's wrong?" he asked. She mumbled something about her stomach, but he was smarter than to believe it. She said she had a fever but she didn't want to bother them by calling home.
He couldn't believe it if he wanted to.
"Let me feel your forehead," Bucky insisted, but Elenora shook her head and kept her eyes on the floor. "Elenora, let me-"
"What's going on?" Steve questioned, walking in with sweatpants and a t-shirt, no socks on his feet. He appeared so comfortable, but he was on edge. Something didn't feel right, and he bet it had something to do with Elenora. "Hey, Kid, I thought you had practice today."
"She says she sick," Bucky told him. "Elenora, let me feel your forehead."
"I'm good, it's fine," she mumbled, trying to get passed Bucky, who extended his arm to stop her. Suddenly, he had the feeling of deja-vu, and instantly thought of Steve in the same position. Her actions mimicked his, the looking down, fidgeting, the lying.
Steve had the same feeling as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Elenora, let him check your temperature."
"I think I just need to lay down-" Elenora argued, making another attempted to leave, but Bucky blocked her.
"Lift up your head for a second," Steve said suddenly, nostalgia washing over him. She didn't move. "Elenora. Now," he ordered.
Bucky could see her swallow hard.
Elenora realized there was no way out now, and nodded her head. Agonizingly slowly, she brought up her face, in which her swollen eye winced at the light. A fist grew at Bucky's side. Concern clouded on Steve's face.
"Elenora, what the fu-" Bucky began, but cut himself off. "Who did that to you?"
"I walked into a wall, and it hurt, a lot," she covered up quickly.
Bucky scoffed, "You're so much like you're father. It's as if you don't think I recognize a black eye when I see one." Elenora didn't reply. She tried again to make her way back to her room, but this time, Steve caught her arm.
"What happened, Elenora?" She felt guilty at the sadness in his voice, this was all her fault. She brought pain to them.
"Nothing."
"Young lady," Bucky called, "you are going to tell me what happened right now."
"I can't tell you," Elenora stated. "Besides, it was my fault, it's all my fau-"
At this, Steve looked at her with the most confused and sorrowful look she'd ever cast her eyes on. "How is you getting punched your fault?"
At the same time, Bucky demanded, "Who the hell did this, Elenora?"
Elenora stopped for a second. They weren't blaming all this on her. But maybe it was a test. To see if she'd admit to her mistakes. Maybe that's what they wanted. "I did this," she told them, trying to please Bucky and Steve. "I-it was m-my fault. I didn't shut up, I should have just-"
"What do you mean you didn't shut up? What happened?" Steve asked urgently. Elenora didn't respond. "Elenora," he warned.
"It was my fault," she stated.
"Who did this?" Bucky repeated.
"Me," she said.
"Young lady if you do not tell me who did this right now-"
"Nobody's don't tell on somebody's," she mumbled, quoting something the Flash had said to the crowd before he left. It was a warning, really, a warning to the students to keep their mouths shut. Even without the warning, no one had the guts to do it.
"What the hell did you just say?" Bucky demanded, astounded. "What happened, Elenora?"
Daring to look him right in the eye, Elenora defended herself, "Yes. I'm a nobody who got beat up by a somebody, so I keep quiet. That's just how it works," she told the two adults, trying to escape again. This time, Steve took both her arms, and crouched down to eye level.
"Who's Somebody? Is that a name?" Bucky asked, thoroughly confused, but Steve understood. He had been in the same position before, the way she looked guilty and was biting back screams for them to leave her alone he had been through that so many times. And he wanted to tell her. But she already knew. Elenora had already read every biography on Steve Rogers, she knew his life, his birthday. She could list off the names of his parents and their birthdays.
"Elenora, you can trust us, we only want to help you," Steve told her.
She bit her lip, holding back a cry, and shook her head. "If you wanted to help me, you would have been at the stupid foster home years ago, but you weren't. It's time I face it," she said, turning to Bucky. "It's fate for me to get hurt. It's my past, my present, and my future."
Both the men were astonished, not a sound came out of their mouths.
She ducked out of sight and blocked Steve's arm, rushing into the bathroom, tears swelling in her eyes.
***
Fifteen minutes later, Steve and Bucky looked at each other, thinking the same thing.
One of them had to go in there.
Elenora stormed out of the kitchen in a fit, and neither of them were sure how to approach her, but they knew something had to be done.
"She's my daughter," Steve announced, slapping his hand on the table as Bucky glances up, not bothered by the noise. "I should go in there."
Bucky nodded. "Alright Stevie, just don't mess up."
Steve stared down at him. "You're so encouraging."
The bathroom's door was chipped, strange indents dotted around it, creating an intimidating pattern, almost as unpredictable as Elenora. To say his daughter confused him was an understatement, everything she did amazed Steve. He tried his best to analyze her, but came to nothing. She was different. She was everything, she was nothing.
Curling his fingers into a fist, Steve brought his hand to the door. Before it hit the wood, he hesitated, and pulled away. Elenora didn't want to see him, and she made that extremely clear. But he knew more about Elenora than he was aware of. Steve knew that she hid her feelings, that she told herself she was alright even when she wasn't. He knew he should have been paying more attention.
His hand met the door with a quick rap. And then he hit it again. Silence blanketed the room other than the heavy breathing from Bucky, and then whirring of the washing machine. They couldn't even hear Elenora.
"Elenora?" he called.
A whimper. "Please, leave me alone." Her tone wasn't rude or harsh, it was breathy, mimicking a plea of a prisoner.
Steve swallowed, then glanced to Bucky, who's expression and body language was stoic. "Let me in, Elenora."
"I need to be alone," she told him. It was a lie. No one ever needed to be alone, all they needed was the right person. And Steve could be that person, if she just let him.
"Let me in, Elenora."
There wa the silence again, the one that spoke volume. Except this time, there was a creak of a door, and a little hand retracted itself.
"Can I come in?"
No response.
With one glance back at the best man he'd ever known, Steve entered the bathroom.
The walls were white. Not creamy white, an illuminating white that seemed to glow like snow. The bathroom sink was accented with a brown toothbrush holder and soap dish. The toilet seat was down, but on top of it was Elenora's black backpack, crumbled up and scoffed with gray footprints.
With her back propped against the wall across from the backpack, Elenora's eyes were puffy, and stained with red. The bruised one was blotched with dots of purple and black, with a faded red outline. Her hands were shaking almost as fast as Pietro could run, and the trembling in her body never stopped. It wasn't cold in the bathroom, it was fairly warm.
In all his life Steve had never felt so helpless. He had watching men of his own die , knowing he couldn't do a thing to help, but nothing broke his heart like this. Elenora was his daughter and was hurt and he couldn't help. It took him a couple of moments, but eventually Steve collected his thoughts and turned his attention to his daughter.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked, offering a hand to his daughter. She shook her head, signaling that she didn't want to get up.
"Everywhere," she muttered, "it hurts everywhere."
He swallowed hard, but crouched down to her level. Her blue eyes wouldn't meet his own. It was like they were back at square one, sitting at that table in Tony's conference room. "If you want it to stop hurting, you've gotta trust me. Can you trust me? Please?"
Elenora nodded lightly, and outreached her hand towards her father. Gently, he took them in him own and hoisted her up; Elenora noticed his hands were warm and calloused. They reminded her of exactly what she hoped for in a father. Grimacing, Elenora put her weight equally on both feet, but knew she couldn't stay standing up. Steve knew this.
With one look at the girl and then at the mirror, Steve said, "For me to fix it, you're gonna need to sit on the counter." Elenora glanced warily towards the sink, and she knew the trip would be more than what she could do alone.
But she didn't have to do it alone, because Steve was there.
Steve offered his hands again, but knew that she didn't have that strength in her. He'd been through situations like her, and he recognized the expression on her face, the one of pure exhaustion. "Can I pick you up?" he questioned, and she nodded. He put her hands just above her waist, and pulled her up to the sink. Even with the extra height, Steve was still looking down to Elenora.
"Point to where it hurts the most," he instructed, and she lifted her arm slightly, wincing at the pain of it. Her mind flashed with a memory of her arm flinging against the metal locker, and her arm throbbed more at the thought of it. Elenora pulled up her self, showing off a gigantic purple and yellow bruise.
Steve gulped, and Elenora did as well.
Trying to stay as stone-faced as he could possibly be, Steve reached behind Elenora and into the medicine cabinet, pulling out creme and an wrap bandage.
"How did this happen?" he asked mildly, trying to make it seem as though he didn't care.
"Some kid at school," she stated vaguely.
"I've had my fair share of beatings," Steve told her, "but nothing like this. Not without reason. " He looped the bandage once, twice, around his daughter arms, only pausing when she spoke, but restarted quickly.
"There was a reason," she said quietly. "I couldn't let someone get hurt."
Steve kept his eyes trailed to the trail of the bandage, and nodded, wanting her to continue, but she didn't. The room fell into the the inevitable silence again.
What neither Steve or Elenora knew was that Bucky was leaning against the bathroom door, trying to hear the conversation inside. He couldn't bring himself to open, or even knock on the door. Bucky didn't fit in. He wasn't a Roger by blood or last name, and he barely belonged in that house, let alone that bathroom.
"Where else is the pain from?"
"M-My stomach."
"How bad?"
"I dunno."
Steve sighed, but not an annoyed one. "I think we should take you to Stark Towers-" a small "no" escaped Elenora's mouth, but he went on, "Bruce can help you. Natasha too. We can call that Peter kid if it makes you hap-"
"Don't call Peter," she begged.
Steve raised an eyebrow, "Why not?"
"H-he wouldn't react well." Steve's expression was still confused. "He knew the kid, the one I fought-"
"The one that beat you up-"
"The one I fought. And Peter has his own problems. I don't need to add to the list," she muttered, swinging her legs absentmindedly. Steve couldn't help but want to scream: Elenora didn't add on to issues, she helped clear them up.
He took one last look and the bruise growing behind the glasses and the cuts that scattered across her face. "Come on, we're going to Stark Tower."
"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "For what I said. I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't-"
"It's alright," he said, offering her his hand. "Come on, let's get you fixed up."
***
Arriving at Stark Towers was more hectic than actually getting beat up, Elenora told herself as she rolled her eyes at the excessive amount of shouting regarding her eyes. Words spewed out of Tony's, Clint's, Natasha's, Thor's, and even Bruce's mouth as Steve told Elenora to show them what happened. Tony dropped his glass, shattering on the floor.
To this day, he's still the drama queen of the Avengers.
"What the hell happened?" Natasha burst out, causing Bruce to glance up quickly from his computer. He winced slightly at the wounds, but was unable to have felt what the girl was feeling. He wished he could give her some strength of his.
"Are you alright?" Clint asked.
"This is your fault," Tony as he spun on his heel, finger pointed harshly towards Bucky. "You insisted that she'd be fine without bodyguards-"
"I said she'd be safe. She is."
"Please, Barnes, what the hell do you know about safety? You're an assassin-"
"Anthony!" Pepper yelled in a mix of shock and pure ferocity. Only two times in his life had Pepper called him by his full name, and the others had been about blowing up New York and purposely pouring wine on an attractive business man.
"It's true!" Tony defended. "How's he supposed to raise a kid if everyone else is worried he's gonna hur-"
"Don't," the Winter Soldier grumbled.
"Admit it, Barnes-"
"Shut the hell up, Stark."
Pepper was grasping for Tony's arm to calm him, but he jerk it forward towards his chest, cradling it in his own hand. In the back, Natasha was indulged in the conversation along with Clint, and Steve's hand had left Elenora's shoulder and moved to the couch arm, gripping it tightly. "I'm right Pepper, and he knows it."
"Do you know what I know? That you'll never be half the man your father was."
Tony's chill attitude turned to boiling at this point, and his hand jerked up, finger pointed at Bucky again. Steve tensed up behind Bucky, and Pepper placed her hand calmingly on Tony's shoulder. Bruce, from across the room, stood from his chair and beckoned a helpless Elenora towards him. Reluctantly, she followed, and was lead through a hallway. Doors lined the walls and they had clear glass doors, and even as quickly paced Bruce's walk was, Elenora was able to see the streaks of orange and pink that colored the sky as the sun fell.
Eventually they arrived in the room that Bruce primarily studied in during his time at Stark Industries. It was basically decorated; pristine glass doors, egg white walls, and lab tables with syringes and graduated cylinders filled with liquids. Elenora paused in the middle of the room, taking in her surroundings as Bruce made his way to the closets that lined the back wall.
Elenora was still looking around the room as Bruce set a spare outfit (T-shirt and sweatpants) on the table next to her.
"Your clothes got pretty beaten up," Bruce told her as she unfolded what she received. "There's a bathroom," he gestured towards the door, "you're welcome to change if you want."
Elenora nodded mindlessly, still looking around and she gathered the clothes and made her way soundlessly to the bathroom.
She closed the door behind her before she looked in the mirror.
Her eye was busted up, and as she began to change she noticed the real damage that Flash had done to her. There was a large bruise right over her hip, spreading its dark shading to most of her lower torso. Her arms were littered with scraps (the locker paint was chipping off-that really didn't help her fall). She was in pain, and a lot of it. But for some reason she was completely oblivious to, Elenora was almost numb. She washed her face, but could barely register the cold hitting her skin.
She quickly changed despite the partial pain she was in, she really didn't want to be alone in that bathroom. She really didn't want to be alone anywhere, for that matter. With one arm covering her bruises When she opened the door and made her way out to Bruce, who was waiting patiently.
"You done?" he gestured to the door.
She swallowed and nodded.
"I'm a doctor," Bruce told her as he clicked his phone on, checking the time. It was 7:02 when he met her eyes again. "I could make it hurt a little less."
"I feel numb," she told him. "It hurt before, but it doesn't anymore."
A frown grew steadily on Dr.Banner's face. "That' not good," he told her.
She nodded understandingly, she had guessed as much. "I-I know." She took her arms off of each other, unmasking the wounds. Elenora saw Bruce actually cringe. Without a word he made his way to the opposite side of the room, reaching into a cabinet, and pulling out a blue bin. It wasn't as small a the first aid kit at home, it was larger, and held many more complicated items.
He went to work on her arms, apply creams and disinfectants to the cuts, while she just swung her legs and looked out the window.
"Dr.Banner?" Elenora's voice was breathy, and Bruce might not have even noticed that she said anything if he was extremely sensitive to noise.
"Yes, Elenora?"
She took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in her ribs. "I was just wondering- how do you defend yourself in a fight with out, y'know." Bruce laughed at the thinly veiled hint towards his double identity, the Hulk.
He smiled at her, "I avoid fights," he shrugged. "I stay away from them." Elenora hopped off the the table as Bruce went back to writing on his computer. He didn't even look at her as he said, "But Elenora," she turned back to him. "It doesn't take a genius to know that you couldn't avoid fights if you wanted to. Seems like it's in your blood."
Elenora let out a small laugh, but didn't reply.
Bucky and Steve told Elenora to go to bed in one of the spare rooms in the tower while they had a "small" (their words) discussion with director Fury. Elenora, of course, was not ready to follow those orders just yet, and luckily, Natasha had opted out of the conversation, promising she would watch over Elenora, and make sure she was safe. Needless to say, that didn't happen. A mere ten minutes after all the other avengers disappeared, Natasha and Bruce (he claimed he couldn't stand to be in the same room as Tony) had snuck Elenora down to the training level of the tower.
Elenora looked like crap under the fluorescent lighting; her bruises looked yellow and her skin look powdery and pale, not to mention the bags under her blue eyes. Although she looked horrid now, she had actually been healing quicker than average, Bruce noted. It must be the super human blood she had from her father; just like him, she was fixing up quick.
"Alrighty," Natasha clapped her hands together, a somewhat sad expression plaguing her face. "Bruce and I here have decided to take you under our wing."
Elenora's eyebrow raised slightly, but she didn't say anything until Natasha held her fists up to face level. Elenora was confused, "Uh, what's going on?" she asked as Bruce took a seat on the far end of the gym, where computers were set up. Elenora found it really strange that there was technology in a gym because her public school didn't provide anything but a few tape lines and a singular basketball hoop.
Natasha glanced at Bruce, "Well, we all know that Bucky is still not going to agree to the bodyguard thing-"
Elenora's heart race picked up a little bit, a mixture of fear and pride filled her, hoping that Bucky thought that she could be strong enough to protect herself but also scared because she knew that it would take a lot of time to get there.
"And we know that we cannot leave you defenseless," Bruce added in, nodding his head in a way to fully agree with Natasha. "So Natasha and I- well, mostly Natasha-" he admitted before he was cut off.
"Both of us," she emphasised, "agreed that you should learn some techniques. And who better to teach you than a couple of superheroes?"
Bruce corrected her, "Uh, a singular superhero, and a computer scientist who will be tracking your vitals."
Natasha squinted and glared at Bruce before she looked back at Elenora. "He's a tiny bit stronger than us. We figured he's a little too advanced for you to fight." Bruce stifled a laugh, but Elenora could see his eyes through his glasses, and the bags that seemed to be under so much pressure told her that what Natasha said was sugarcoated. "So I'm your teacher right now." Elenora's face lifted into a smile, partially nervous but almost all excited.
"You're going to teach me how to punch?" Elenora asked and not because she was violent, but because she had always dreamt someone would have taught her the basics of anything. Usually, it was makeup and not fighting, and it wasn't an assassin, it was her mother. But close enough.
Close enough.
Natasha let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I am. And let's hope we can get it done before your pop gets down here."
***
Sure enough, at a ripe time at about 12:47 A.M., Steve and Bucky found Elenora and Natasha fist-fighting in on the New-Bee training level of Stark Industries. Since the first attack on New York, Tony had taken it upon himself to make sure that all of his employ were trained in basic hand-to-hand contact, not that it would do much against an Asgardian God, but he claimed it reassured them.
Steve watched from afar, the quick moves she took seemed to mimic the ones he took as a young kid. Of course, she was actually landing them- Steve would be lucky if he got a lousy punch in the third round against his highschool bully, Billy (who tragically grew up to be a garbage man).
Bucky tried to move forward, but Steve grabbed his arm, a simple gesture of patience.
"Keep your head tucked in, Elenora," Natasha warned, and Elenora nodded, instinctively popping out her head again. Natasha circled Elenora, and when she went for an open attack, a noise sounded from Bruce's computer, despite Elenora swiveling away from
"Heart rate spiked," he announced, and Natasha went for another hit, but Elenora once again blocked her, and sent a kick that never landed because Natasha caught it, and tripped Elenora (who, in all defense, had terrible balance.
Elenora fell to the floor with a huff, and without any care, sprawled herself on the training floor, and mumbled about sleep. Natasha laughed, "I think we lost the poor kid," she told him, watching as Elenora muttered something else without opening her eyes. "You can come in guys, y'know. Kid or not, it's still creepy to stand outside the door and not said 'Hi'."
"Did she really fall asleep on the floor?" Bucky asked, ignoring Natasha's comment. "She must be really tired. She doesn't even sleep much these days."
Steve winced, wishing Bucky hadn't said anything. Both Natasha and Bruce looked up to him and then to Steve, but no one said anything.
"Are you guys taking her home?" Natasha asked.
Steve nodded, folding his arms over his chest, "Yeah. But the fact that she fell asleep of the floor complicates it."
Natasha waved it off, insisting that she could bring the young girl to the car. However, when she had bent down to pick Elenora up, she grabbed the older girl's foot and yanked her down, and with a thud, Natasha fell. Elenora then erupted into giggles, clutching her stomach, finding it hilarious that a little girl was able to manage to fool the Avenger.
The Avengers found this quite humorous, especially Bruce.
Bucky and Steve walked Elenora to the elevator, but the tension was still thick. The doors closed, and the young girl spilled.
"I'm sorry about what I said," she announced, holding her wrist in one hand and turning to look up at Buck and Steve. "I didn't mean it. I mean, I kinda meant it. I'm just, I'm was very afraid that you'd hate me after I got into a fight and that you'd think I was troubled. That I was just a lot of trouble. I wouldn't blame you if you did. A lot of people think I am. Trouble that is."
Steve shook his head, and his hand fell on Eleonora's shoulders. Their blue eyes met, and Steve swallowed at how familiar her hair was. So brown, so much like-
"You're not trouble, El," Steve told her. "What you did today, whatever it is that you did, I'm sure it was right. I'm sure that everything that happened was for a reason."
"You're so," Elenora's eyes darted around as she struggle for the word. "Supportive? Understanding? I don't get it, you should hate me after-"
"We aren't ever gonna hate you, kid," Bucky promised, sending her one of his rare warm smiles.
She blushed in happiness. I've never done that before, Elenora realized as she turned back to face the elevator doors.