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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Bits and Pieces
𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂 ─ 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋
𝟏𝟒 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
☆
Lizzie was in and out of consciousness for two days. She remembered bits and pieces, but the pain meds they'd given her had her wondering whether or not anything that happened was real. The first time she woke up, she was on a gurney and being led into hospital. The nurses above her were muttering back and forth about her injuries, and she passed out again when she heard them say 'immediate surgery'. The next time she woke up, she thought she was hallucinating. Sharon stood over her, tears filling up her blue eyes when Lizzie opened hers, and Lizzie thought she was seeing a ghost—that her mind was playing tricks on her—because she was dead.
"Lizzie—Lizzie, calm down," Sharon tried to grab her good arm when Lizzie's eyes widened in panic, and she glanced around the room before clawing at her hand to try and get the IV out. Tears from Sharon's eyes fell onto her skin. "Lizzie—Liz—Elizabeth, baby, please stop—"
Doctors came rushing in, giving her a sedative, and she was out once again. The third time she woke up, the world around her was not spinning as much as it had before. She managed to blink away the haze long enough to realize that Sam Wilson was sleeping in the chair next to her. His head was thrown all the way back and he was snoring loudly, which she figured had woken her up. Only after she glanced around and found an plastic water cup to throw at him did he jolt awake, standing up and instantly hovering over her side.
His eyes were alert, glancing over her to find the problem. "What—what is it? What's wrong?" She pointed to the cup she'd throw at him, and he realized what she needed. "Okay. Okay, I'll get you some water. I'll be right back—"
She had fallen back asleep before he returned, another dose of pain medicine knocking her out. The fourth time, Sharon was back again. Sam was seated next to her, the two of them talking lowly under their breaths with one another and occasionally glancing up. Once, upon doing so, they looked up and realized that Lizzie's eyes were wide open and she was gaping at Sharon with glassy vision. That was when she found out that she was not hallucinating—that no, Sharon was not dead—and Lizzie's wails and desperate pleas to reach for her sister only ended up causing a searing pain to go down her shoulder. Sharon crawled onto the side of her bed with her, and Lizzie did not let go, even when she fell back asleep.
The fifth time, it had been two days since the Battle of the Triskelion, and Lizzie Carter woke up for the first time completely conscious of her surroundings. The first thing she heard was the beeping, going in and out at a steady rhythm, until she deduced that it was her heartbeat. The hospital smell was what she noticed next, and then the weight that was up against the left side of her body carried a sense of comfort that she was not expecting—she was uncomfortable, but she didn't want the weight to move.
Opening her brown eyes, she winced, blinking a few times to try and gather her bearings. The hospital room was a sterile white, a sliding glass door straight ahead with doctors and nurses weaving in and out of rooms every few seconds. Lizzie tilted her head to the left slightly and noticed the weight was her sister. A burning sensation rose up in her throat, tears prickling her eyes at the sight of Sharon alive and well right next to her. She was fast asleep. So Lizzie continued to inspect the room, turning her head in the other direction. And then she stopped.
Steve Rogers stared at the hospital bracelet wrapped around the thin wrist of the teenage girl in front of him for what felt like hours. Maybe it was. CARTER, ELIZABETH J. was printed on the top. But when he heard the sound of the heart monitor speeding up, his head shot up quickly with it and he caught the eyes of one Lizzie Carter. They were tearful, her bottom lip trembling as she took in the sight of him. He knew he'd looked better, only having been discharged a few hours ago from his own hospital bed just to sit next to hers. Even if he'd had time to take in her appearance, it still stung every time he looked at her.
They just watched one another. Steve's eyes burning when he saw the first set of tears slide down her face, scooting forward instantly with a wince so that he was closer to the side of the bed. Lizzie went to move, but then she stopped, a flash of pain contorting her face and she let out a small whimper. The sound, however small, woke Sharon up in an instant and her sister was shooting out of the bed, already halfway in the direction of the nurse's station. Lizzie's eyes widened at the state of her. Dark circles were under her eyes, hair in a messy, tanged bun with wrinkled civilian clothes.
"What's wrong?" Sharon asked instantly, glancing at every single body part on her sister. "Is it your shoulder? Do I need to get a nurse?"
Lizzie was silent for a moment, her eyes darting between Sharon and Steve, who was halfway out of his seat already. Her eyes welled up with tears again. "I thought...I thought—" she choked up, sniffling and trying to move her arm. Another wince, and she hissed out in pain that time. She looked down for the first time at herself and nearly gagged. Her entire right arm was bandaged against her chest, preventing her from moving it at all. She felt trapped, claustrophobia hitting her instantly and she looked up at Sharon in a panic.
Sharon was quickly at her side again, sitting on the bed and grabbing her face. "It's okay. Lizzie, it's okay. You had surgery, alright? You've been in and out for about two days. You have a humerus shaft fracture in your right shoulder. There was some nerve damage they had to fix. You've got some screws and rods in there now. You broke a few of your knuckles in your right hand, and the doctor said you've got some pretty bad bruises around your throat. There's a brace on your left knee right now from a hairline fracture...you're okay. You're alright. We're all okay."
Lizzie barely acknowledged her own injuries. She grabbed a hold of her sister's wrist, shaking her head with blurry vision. "Carson—"
"She's okay, Liz," she nodded, her eyes tearing up too. "She's alive. Hill and I found her. She's been in and out of surgery, trying to repair her spine but it took some damage. She's just down the hall. Sam's with her."
Lizzie fell back at those words, a weight lifting off her chest. Steve and Sharon kept a close eye on her, just like they'd been doing for the last however-many-hours. Watching the thirteen-year-old girl in such a traumatic, vulnerable state left an bitter taste in their mouths because both of them knew that they were, in some way, to blame for it. Steve should have protected her the moment he got inside. Sharon should have never let her come to D.C. with her. It was their fault, and now both of them had to look at the consequences of those actions in the little girl they loved so much. They knew better than anyone else that the physical would repair. It was the mental that she would have to live with.
Something was empty inside of her eyes as she stared at her legs, the one with the brace peeking out and reminding Lizzie of how it happened. Back when Monroe had slammed her onto it, and she hadn't even realized how badly it was injured. Her hand, from when she locked him in the room. Heartache coursed through her chest—pain, not the kind that she could use medicine for, burned hotly like betrayal. She felt tears burn in her eyes. But it was hot anger. Burning frustration. The kind that ignited her lungs and seared up into her throat. How could she have been so stupid to trust him?
Steve's heart broke when he saw. The teenage girl looked up through her wet lashes, her jaw tightening in upset. "Monroe—" she paused, her scowl only rising when she caught the way Sharon's face hardened. "He was HYDRA—"
"Lizzie..." Sharon started slowly, never once leaving her eyes. "He was found in Carson's office where you left him. After Romanoff dumped all of SHIELD's intel, he rooted back through the system and found any of HYDRA's dirty work they tried to hide in between the lines...he was a double-agent, working for us and lying to them."
Her jaw clenched, ignoring the stinging in her throat. She refused to believe that. "He tried to kill me, Sharon—"
"You think I believed it when I found out? I wanted to shoot him the second I saw him. Hill had to restrain me so that I didn't," she admitted without care, barely blinking when Steve stood up and walked out of the room to give them the chance to talk. Sharon waited a few seconds, and then she turned back to her. "But his first question was you—asking how you were, if you were alive. He turned himself in because of you. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt."
Lizzie looked away, the tears burning even hotter against her flushed skin as she shook her head, pursing her lips tightly together. Because she couldn't believe that. She wouldn't believe that—he had lied to her, he was the bad guy, he tried to hurt her. She continued to shake her head rapidly, blinking away the tears. She wanted her mom.
"He said Project Insight was going to help people. He doesn't deserve that."
"There was an encrypted file on his work laptop. He was trying to rewire the systems so that those on Project Insight's list would be protected, not harmed." Sharon stopped talking when she saw how Lizzie was reacting to the news. She glanced back out the room where Steve was waiting, pretending not to listen. "I'm going to go check on Carson. I'll stop and get you some food. The doctor should be in here soon to talk with you more about physical therapy and rehabilitation."
Lizzie didn't say anything to her sister, only have a half-nod, still staring at her legs. She couldn't even look at her arm anymore. Rehabilitation. Physical therapy. She glanced over at the chair she remembered Sam sitting in, and her eyebrows narrowed on the grey sweatshirt he'd worn the first day they met. Leaning to the side a little bit, sticking her tongue out slightly in determination, she tried to lean over and reach for it. That had been a bad idea. A cry caught in her throat when she was halfway over, realizing that she'd accidentally hit her arm on the side of the bed, and she had nothing to catch herself on.
Just when she expected herself to fall face-first onto the tile floor, hands wrapped around her side quickly and delicately, catching her and guiding her back against the bed again. Lizzie choked out in pain, breathing heavily through her nostrils in frustration. She felt broken. She felt useless. Her brown eyes clashed with blue ones, and instantly tears welled up once again. He said nothing, just moved to grab a hold of the sweatshirt, helping her pull it over her small frame and through her one good arm. The other sleeve dangled lifelessly at her side. She felt like a child.
"Steve," she whimpered pitifully, her good arm reaching to clutch at his so that she could pull him closer.
He sat down next to her, mindful of her shoulder, and brought her into his chest. Neither one of them spoke, his lips staying pressed against her head as he shut his eyes closed to keep himself from crying, rocking her gently back and forth to soothe her. Both of them were bent to hell, bruises and cuts and stitches lining every part of their body—but there was still a crack, a small bruise, in their hearts left from Lizzie's betrayal. The band-aid covering it was from thinking they would never see each other again.
"I'm so sorry," she sobbed out, clutching at the back of his shirt with her free hand. She barely missed his wince, still healing. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you—"
He shook his head, cradling her head in his hands. "MJ, don't."
"I just couldn't. There's so much I wanted to tell you, and I tried so hard to be myself around you because I wanted you to like me for me," she sniffled. "And I know you hate me now—"
"I don't."
"—but I had to do it, you know? I had to. Aunt Peggy said you needed someone, and I thought I could be that someone because I always looked up to you—oh, my god," she sat up quicker than she intended to with a shattered shoulder, her doe-eyes staring at him in horror. Steve waited patiently, his heart in pain at how upset she was. "Steve. My aunt—"
"—is my Peggy?" he finished softly, his eyebrows raising knowingly. She stopped dead in her tracks, confusion riddling over her features. He reached down to grab a hold of her hand, showing her the hospital bracelet with her last-name and all written down. Her face fell in realization. "I connected the dots while I was sitting here. Margaret Junior, right? MJ. It makes sense. You have her eyes. I saw a picture you drew on her stand of me when you were little. Your name was in the corner. Your real name."
She blinked at him, her lip trembling. "You're not...you're not mad?"
"I was. I was hurt, mostly. I still am," he said honestly, and she flinched. He hated seeing that, and instantly squeezed her hand. "But I know you tried your best to be as honest with me as you could. I thought all of it was a lie...that you were just some spy Fury recruited until Natasha told me, and I realize now just how much of you I really saw. I understand. I'm trying to understand...and I'll get past this. It's just going to take some time...but I can't imagine my life without you in it. I meant what I said that day at the Memorial. You're my partner, MJ, and thinking something happened to you—seeing you like this—"
That only stemmed a thought in Lizzie's brain. She clutched at Steve's sleeve, horror masking her features as she remembered what she did just before she fell unconscious. "I shot him—Steve, I shot him...oh, my god, I shot him—"
"I know, Lizzie," he muttered, reaching to grab her again, trying to console her when he noticed the trauma shake her body in difficult tremors. He wished he could hold her tighter without fearing he'd break her in two. He'd been waiting for this—waiting for her to realize what had been done. "I know. You saved Sam's life, Lizzie. You saved him. You saved him. You did what any of us would have done."
"I shot him. I shot someone—" she choked out, shaking her head. "He's...oh, God, is he—"
"His body wasn't recovered," Steve finished before she could get out the final word. "Which means he probably got away. We aren't sure. Sam said your shot wasn't fatal, MJ. The building collapsing was. If he died, it wasn't your fault—"
She pulled away from him with some effort, looking at him like he was crazy. "How is that not my fault?"
Before Steve could comfort her anymore, she stilled, swallowing her tears and looking past Steve's head when she saw Sam standing in the frame of the open glass door. His face was solemn when he noticed the streaks on her cheeks. Whether either of them had expected it or not, an unbreakable bond had been formed between Lizzie and Sam because of what they experienced in a short amount of time together. They knew that. They'd saved each other's lives. He slowly walked into the room, his eyes flickering down to see that she was wearing his sweatshirt. Steve didn't move, which meant he already knew who was entering.
Lizzie blinked away the tears on her lashes, looking at Sam. "How's Carson?"
"Scary, now that she can talk," he said, his lip tilting up halfway into a smirk as he looked at her. "Wanting to see someone by the name of Baby Carter to thank her for saving her life. I told her to get in line."
That made Lizzie stop and blink at him, suddenly very perplexed. Saved her life? Her eyes flickered over to Steve to see that he was smiling softly at her, pride lighting up in his eyes, while Sam just shoved his hands into his pockets. She didn't see it that way. She'd shot someone. She probably killed someone. Regardless of it being Rumlow or not, that wasn't ever something she wanted to have to do—but she had helped Sam. She'd helped him. She helped Carson. Everyone was okay. At least she thought so.
Life must have not caught up to that same concept. A loud crash came from outside of Lizzie's bedroom, far too similar to a gunshot for her liking, and the reaction was instantaneous. Like a flash of lightning, she was brought back into the hallway with the agent's blood all over her face, Rumlow walking toward her with his gun hanging in his hand. Her body jolted forward, hands already clawing at her IV again to rip it out so that she could make a quick getaway. She wasn't safe. They were coming for her. Rumlow was going to kill her.
Like shackles on tight, she felt heavy, strong arms wrapping around her body. Not enough to hurt her, but definitely enough to prevent her from hurting herself by trying to jump out of the hospital bed. A gut wrenching sound escaped her mouth, somewhere crossed between a plea and a cry, and she fought against them with the strength of her left arm. Sam stepped forward, but Steve had already worked his way around her, grounding her back to reality.
"Lizzie. Lizzie, it's okay. You're here with me. You're in the hospital. You're okay. MJ—" the words were hushed against her ear in a mantra, and she listened to the heavy breathing of Steve, her eyes blinking open to glance around the room and realize where she was. "You're okay, Lizzie. I'm here. I've got you. You're alright. You're safe."
Lizzie's eyes burned with another onset of tears, these enough to settle a thick mold in the back of her throat, and she barely managed to see through them to catch sight of the doctor scrambling to pick up the binder they'd dropped outside of her room. It wasn't a gunshot. She was in the hospital. She was safe. Rumlow was gone. That didn't mean the repercussions of what he left behind were.
Now it was Steve's turn to be there for her.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂 ─ 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 #𝟑
𝟐𝟎 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒
Lizzie was released from the hospital five days later. It was a long five days. Her parents showed up in D.C. the day after she woke up, her mom looking absolutely terrible and her father no better. She expected to hear a mouthful from her mom, but surprisingly, she didn't say anything. She just held onto Lizzie for a few hours as best as she possibly could, crying into her arms, and Lizzie let her without protest. She needed her mom. Unsurprisingly, her mom barely let her out of her sight and was very adamant on asking questions to every single person that walked through her door.
Her dad, on the other hand, spent most of his time talking to Steve, and even though it was the first time the two of them had ever met, they were already talking like they were great friends. She had a feeling it was because they were too similar for their own good. Plus, finding out that Steve's first love was her dad's favorite aunt kickstarted a couple good stories. Lizzie was just happy to see her parents, even if it was in extenuating circumstances, and to finally be able to roll herself into Carson's room with a wheelchair—both girls would be in them for a bit. Until Lizzie's knee healed, and until the doctors tried to determine how bad Carson's spine was injured.
She was going back home. That much, she knew right off the bat, and she wasn't exactly complaining anymore. Around every single corner, it felt like she was taking her turns with fear. Her parents had already set her up with a psychologist back home, someone to put her in therapy to help her cope with the 'events' she'd been through. Lizzie bit back on that one. Just like with the rehab and PT, she wasn't the most willing patient. She was stubborn and angry, and she got frustrated when her body wouldn't allow her to do something like it should.
The doctors told her they weren't sure if she would ever play softball again. Her chances were equal, one end leaning towards the hope that her body would heal because she was still young and the screws and rods should help through the PT. The other side was that, no matter how much she did, her shoulder would never be the way it was before. Her pitching shoulder. Her good shoulder. Lizzie still hadn't fully accepted, or even processed, the idea of no longer playing her favorite sport—because with that came a million other things she would never be able to do again either, like archery.
"Getting injured has its perks, I guess," said the voice, crawling through the window and moving to sit down on the fire-escape stairs. Casey wanted to be level with her, since she'd managed to drag a foldable chair outside on her favorite view instead of her ugly wheelchair. "You have your family doing all the busy work?"
Lizzie pressed her lips together, turning around briefly to see her family behind her in the apartment. "Steve's mostly doing all of it. Ma's real good at pointing and telling people what to do, though. I tried to help, but apparently I'm too broken to hold anything."
Casey noticed the spite in her voice and raised her eyebrows. "C'mon, Brooklyn. Don't be like that. You got into an accident. You'll be okay and back to pitching in no-time. I just wish I could come out and see you play."
"Yeah," Lizzie mumbled, frowning at her hand. She had since been upgraded from a full-shoulder bandaging looking like Jacob from Twilight to a shoulder brace with an arm sling holding her together. A gnarly scar was peaking out of the straps of her tank top. She looked over at Casey. "You can still come to Brooklyn, you know. Summer trips...spring break..."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she confirmed, giving the girl a small, knowing smile. A look was shared between the two girls, a conversation unspoken but still saying what it needed to. Lizzie's smile fell slowly, and she blinked. Casey noticed, but she never dropped her smile. "I wish I'd met you sooner...or, I don't know, got to stay longer."
"Is this your way of saying you're going to miss me?"
Lizzie flushed, raising her brows at the girl. "You know I'm going to miss you...I'm about to leave, y'know. I'm also super messed up on some pain meds right now, so I'm pretty sure my confidence has increased to its max potential and I'm capable of saying almost anything right now."
"Dangerous game."
"Little bit. You scared of it?"
"Nope," Casey said, popping her lips together to emphasis her word. Lizzie's attention went to them momentarily, and the girl in front of her noticed. She grinned. "For what it's worth, I'm going to miss you too, Brooklyn—and flirting with you. It's fun to see you get all flushed. Didn't think anything could phase you if I'm being honest." The red cheeks she'd been talking about came up upon being summoned, and Lizzie turned her head away quickly, blushing. "Nu uh, Brooklyn. What happened to your confidence?"
"You know what," Lizzie said, turning back to her to frown. "Stop teasing me. You make me nervous."
Casey smiled, and then she took a moment to glance into the apartment to see that everyone was completely preoccupied. So the taller girl leaned off the fire-escape and into Lizzie's personal space. Instantly, the brown-haired girl felt her heart leap and her skin crawl with flames, the blush on her cheeks only increasing tenfold. They met eyes, Casey's lips nearly touching Lizzie's, but not close enough. Not close enough, Lizzie thought, and rather than waiting for any instruction, she closed the distance and pressed her lips to Casey's.
The kiss was chaste. Not only was it Lizzie's first time kissing a girl (not that it was different, the anatomy was all the same in the lips) but it was the first time that she really felt her head spin kissing someone—not some childhood, playground peck that made her giggle and run away from the boy. Or shove him down. There were feelings behind the kiss, and Casey's fingers gripped her chin, the two of them only pulling away when Lizzie felt her lungs start to burn.
Casey slowly released her hold, and they just stared at each other for a few minutes. Lizzie, in somewhat astonishment, blinking away the surprise that she'd just had official-official first kiss. She went to open her mouth, but Casey just returned back to the stairs, sitting back down. They didn't have to say anything—the silence between them was comfortable after Casey stopped smirking at Lizzie's flushed cheeks. They just sat there, enjoying the last day with each other, and knowing that Casey was definitely going to be taking up Lizzie's offer to visit New York in the future.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂 ─ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋
Lizzie complained nearly the whole way to National Mall. She'd let up for a few minutes when Steve stopped to talk about an old motorcycle he'd seen on the street, muttering about how he wanted to get one of his own since his was officially destroyed. But her complaints let up when she no longer felt like a useless sack of potatoes, and Steve helped her out of her wheelchair (with a few subtle whacks and protests of 'I can do it!' along the way) so that they could sit in their usual, shaded spot underneath their tree after their runs. She wouldn't be doing that for a while.
The silence was comforting up until Lizzie's lip started to tremble slightly and Steve noticed. She glanced over at him, surprised that there were even tears left inside of her body anymore with the waterworks shows she'd been having recently. Then, she sniffled, rubbing her nose against the sweatshirt she'd stolen from Sam that he was never getting back.
"I don't think I can say goodbye," she said bluntly, abruptly, through her gravely voice. She felt her eyes burn, unable to look at him so she just stared heavily at a tree ahead. "I'm not going to say goodbye, okay? I'm just...gonna get up—well, you're going to roll me back—and then we're just going to leave it there, okay? I'll just get into the car and go, and then we can just...just go and move on with everything—"
Steve stared at the side of her face. "MJ—"
"—and all of this will be a learning experience that the government is actually super corrupt and evil, and people really freaking suck, you know?" she continued to ramble. "Because then we don't have to think about it, and we don't have to say anything, and we can just pretend that we're just going away on a break to, like, Michigan or something and we'll see each other in a few weeks—"
"Lizzie."
"—because I'm not saying it. I'm not. Steve, I'm not..."
She stopped her gargled mess of words, finally turning to him. He was looking at her with the same softness he always had, a swell of adoration and paternal instincts he never thought he'd possess kicking in. Lizzie Carter looked back at him with the brown-eyes he could now pinpoint down, only making the tears in them that much harder to witness. He sighed, leaning forward on his knees, staring ahead at the monuments. Things were different between them—an air of caution, not so innocent anymore—but she was still his MJ. And he was still her Steve.
"I'm moving to the Avengers Tower in Manhattan."
Lizzie froze instantly, her eyes widening. "You're...what? I thought you were..."
"I can't stay here, and Tony's offering a space..." he said slowly, glancing down at his hands. "Who knows? Maybe it'll be a good thing."
"You two are going to kill each other. Tony's worse than me." Steve looked up at her in surprise at the insinuation that they knew each other. She frowned, another brief wince escaping at another thing she'd forgotten to mention. "I know him. Him and my dad kind of grew up together, babysat by Jarvis a lot when Auntie Pegs and Howard had stuff to do...I'm sorry."
Steve sighed heavily, yet another thing being discovered about the girl next to him that he hadn't known before. He was starting to get the feeling that there was plenty more where that come from. But when he noticed that Lizzie's hands went up to her throat, this time ringing around the expanse of the skin and the chain that used to be there, he stopped—there was a conversation lingering in the air between them. Neither one of them had brought it up yet. It felt like a dream, or a nightmare, and both of them were too afraid to say the first word.
Lizzie was always braver than Steve at showing emotions. "He took them."
"I know," Steve said, blankly, staring ahead with her. "He had them wrapped around his hand when I found him. Or when he found me, I guess. I thought..."
He didn't need to finish his sentence.
"He would've," she said softly, glancing down at her bruised hand barely visible through her sling. "Nothing was stopping him. I thought...I just pulled them out. I thought, maybe if he saw them...when he read them, he took them and dropped me. Steve, what..." she paused, her tears filling up again and she felt an unfriendly anger build again. "They took everything from him. How..."
Steve felt the same inkling of pain from earlier rise in his chest, breaking his heart as he sat there and thought on the man that he still considered his best friend. Then he turned to Lizzie to see the gleam of anger in her eyes, a rage that reminded him more of Bucky than Peggy in that moment, for the injustices done on an innocent. He swallowed hard.
"I'm gonna find him, MJ."
He promised him that.
She paused, blinking the wetness on her lashes, and turned to face Steve. "What happens when you do? Who...who is going to be? How is he going to be?"
"I don't know," Steve said, honestly, "but he's in there. Somewhere. I know it. I saw it, and I'm not going to give up on him. Not again."
"Steve, I want to help."
His reaction was just as she expected for it to be. Lizzie had had enough time to think things through. The hospital did that, in between thinking and trying to ignore the gross hospital food and terrible soap operas they played. One thing that she'd learned in the last few days was that this was it for her. She wanted it. She needed to do more, because there was no way she could just sit on her ass and do nothing while the rest of the world needed help. Maybe she didn't have any supernatural abilities. She wasn't special. But she was a Carter, and she refused to give up on a fight.
"No."
"SHIELD fell apart. I didn't," she said, turning what she could of her body to face him. "I got hurt, alright? I know that. Ma is going to have me on house arrest until I'm eighty, but... Steve, there's no other option here for me. It's in my blood. I can't just stand around and act like nothing happened these last few months. I'm not going to—and regardless of whether or not you or my parents approve of it, I'm going to get involved. Somehow, someway, and...and I'd really like it if you were there to teach me instead of giving me the look Ma gave me when I left for the first time."
His jaw clenched, averting his eyes for a moment so she wouldn't see the scolding look. "Lizzie, you're thirteen."
"Who shot someone and nearly got killed by evil Nazi's inside of a secret spy organization that had me on a hit-list," she said bluntly, giving him a frown. His scowl only became more prominent. "If you don't teach me, there are other people who will. I'm stubborn. I'll get Natasha or Clint to train me."
"Absolutely not—" he interjected, the idea of either of them training his little girl triggering a spark of protection. When Lizzie stared at him, expectantly, he clenched his jaw. "The only way I'm agreeing to this is if your parents do."
"Is one out of two good enough?"
"MJ—"
She sighed. "Okay. Alright. Parents' approval."
"And after you're fully healed. And you start going to therapy."
"You're pushing it—"
"You're pushing it," he said, giving her a look. She sighed heavily again. "I won't let you get hurt again, Lizzie. Not on my watch or anyone else's—including your own. So if we're going to do this, we're doing it my way."
There was a brief pause in the air between them. The dynamic had changed. Both Steve and Lizzie noticed it. Even just hearing her real name come out of his mouth was an adjustment for both of them. The happy, perfect little bubble of Liberty Cafe breakfasts and early morning runs was popped, and now both Steve Rogers and Lizzie Carter had to figure out what their next path in life was after Washington, D.C. and their apartments right next to each other. He wasn't going to be Neighbor Steve anymore, and she wasn't Emily.
But that didn't mean Steve loved her any less, or she loved him any different than before. They had changed, things had changed, but not the friendship they'd made. Not the impact that they'd left on one another—and maybe it was necessary for the two of them, what they went through. Maybe it would only make the bond between them that much stronger.
Lizzie Carter glanced over at Steve Rogers, giving him a halfway smile. "Ay, ay, Captain. Just for you, I'll let go of my ego."
They would recover. And they would rebuild. And they would be okay.
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𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐄𝐆𝐎.
COMING NEXT:
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐋𝐎𝐖.
"I'm sure someone in the world thought that it was a great idea to give Mini-Cap over here the opportunity to be a little Avenger-In-Training. I, however, have discovered in my time of pondering over the successes and failures of being an Avenger myself that this is only going to end horribly should Abigail Whistler here get into the family business. I've seen the kid. I've also seen her aunt. Those genes are scarier than bell bottoms. Now—listen—here's where my intelligence baffles the room. Wait for it. Wait for it: bring another kid in! One more and we can start a daycare in the Avengers Tower, Happy!"
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Author's Note:
How'd I GET HERE? I can't believe Part One is officially finished. It feels like such a long-time coming, and I am so SO incredibly blessed for all of the love. Thank you for your support in getting me to this point where I can officially close one chapter of this story and move onto the next.
What did you think about part one? About this chapter? The ending? Choosing to do an entire section of this story where Peter wasn't introduced was scary for me. I know sometimes people don't enjoy it, but I wanted to make sure Lizzie was more than just a love interest to him. She's her own badass person, and I just love her so much.
Again, THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. For your love and support for the characters I introduced. For loving Carson (you guys know I COULDN'T KILL HER OFF. I love her...and someone else might here soon...) and for loving Monroe, and feeling the betrayal that Lizzie felt. I couldn't leave his story like that. BOTH of these characters are not finished yet. We will see and hear from both of them.
Thank you also for loving Lizzie and Casey's relationship. Lizzie discovering her sexuality was so important to me to include, as she discovers this herself, because we are watching her grow up and this is an important part of her identity I wanted to show you all. She had her first real kiss! Casey will return in part two, I promise.
As always, let me know what you think.
NATM will return soon. There will be a brief surprise after this chapter (be ready!) and then an interlude for Avengers: AOU where Lizzie briefly appears. Then, onto Part Two!!! Say hi to Peter in a few chapters.
...and a FIFTEEN YEAR OLD LIZZIE? What the heck. She's growing up so fast.