The Girl and the Superhero{Peter Parker}

Part 46 (Kenzie's POV)

          My hand hovered over the doorknob like it was afraid of being burned; I couldn't make my fingers curl around the small metal ball.

          How do you tell your father that you've hated your whole life that his wife was the mastermind behind a plan that almost killed their daughter multiple times? Not only that, but also that you dropped a building on her... and she didn't make it? I hadn't come anywhere close to accepting that fact in the hour since Steve had told me-- I just decided that my father deserved to know as much as I did. But that far from meant that I was looking forward to the conversation. Knowing the state of our relationship based on our last interaction, I had less than no idea how to communicate this effectively to my father.

          I exhaled softly, the air coming out in quick bursts rather than a steady release. I looked down the hallway to see Steve, Nat, and Peter standing side by side, all of their eyes glued on me. Peter moved like he was about to start towards me, but Natasha stopped him with a soft motioning of her arm; I met her gaze and her encouraging nod. The corner of my lips turned briefly in gratitude. Then, for the first time in years, I opened the door to my father and wheeled myself inside.

          The sun was bright in the grey-themed room, sending a reflection so strong off of the king-sized comforter that the walls looked significantly aged. Dust laced the corners of the room and the frames of the window, the sunlight sending it dancing across the beams that raked through the half-opened blinds. I had cleaned this room every once in awhile, but had never put much effort into it-- I never had enough visitors to have a reason to do so. As the room now hosted its first guest in years, I found myself shocked at how perfectly in place the man hunched over on the corner of the bed seemed: crumpled, disheveled, and so broken in almost every way imaginable with no clue as to how that came to be.

          Mason James' eyes rose slowly like they were the heaviest things in the world-- I could see the physical and mental effort that simply raising his chin took. The salt in his salt-and-pepper look was increased and exaggerated by the monochrome of the room, that and the weight in his eyes making him appear a decade older than he actually was. I closed the door behind me, spinning the wheels of my hospital-given wheelchair in silence to the opposite corner of the bed and stopping there in the same fashion.

          I cleared my throat, trying to make my voice work. "Um, hi."

          Well, not exactly the starter I was hoping for, but at least he didn't seem to have much to say either.

          "Hi."  His voice was as empty as his eyes.

          I debated backing out of the room and abandoning this whole effort to talk and make peace, but the front-right wheel of my wheelchair was stuck underneath the bed frame. Perfect.  "So...  what do you know?"

          "What?" He jumped as if he wasn't actually expecting me to say anything else. "Oh- I- not much. I got a call from some Nick Furry or something-"

          "Fury," I corrected him.

          "Yeah, him. I was at my work conference and so I figured it was a work call, but then Fury said he was from S.H.I.E.L.D.-- I figured the only connection was Joanne's father, who she told me worked for them once."

          My mouth dried as I remembered the words she had spoken to me a few nights prior:

          "I care very much that Tony Stark gets just as ripped to shreds as my mother was. I care very much that his heart gets torn apart in the same way he tore my father's heart in three places...

          Oh, Kenzie. Love doesn't save. Love kills."

          "Yeah," I croaked. "She told me that, too."