Mirage // Marvel Universe

Barton_file_CLASSIFIED

The sunrise leaks through kitchen windows above the sink basin, and somewhere on the farm, chickens cluck in response to their morning meal. I stare blankly ahead, not really willing to focus in on anything. Ever since I learned about Spencer's death and my newfound corporeal disability, reality has become a lot less desirable. Tuning out everything is the only way I can tune out my thoughts as well.

The first few weeks of rest and recovery after the accident were the hardest. My cheeks are still puffy reminders of tear-soaked nights. Now, my body is a hollow echo of the pain I felt. Sometimes, I finding myself wanting to let the tears fall, but I have to remind myself that crying leads to dehydration, and drinking water has become a messy pain-in-my-ass. Besides, tears won't bring Spencer back. My energy is better spent on just keeping myself in a solid-state.

"Harper?" Laura's voice speaks gently from behind me.

She's been kind to me since I arrived here yesterday afternoon. I barely had any energy for more than a few words and nods of the head, but Laura was accommodating. She set up the guest room upstairs for me and didn't once question me when I accidentally phased through the bathroom door. I assume Clint has filled her in on my condition. It's nice to not have to explain everything all over again.

Laura sets a bowl of wheat-thins in front of me on the table. "I was going to make eggs and bacon, but the chickens haven't laid any recently and I forgot to remind Clint to bring some groceries home with him." She pushes her brown hair off her shoulders with a soft breath and a warm look I've only ever seen Clint able to muster. I can see why they're such a great fit. "I can get you something else if you'd like."

"No, it's okay." I reach for the spoon but then remember. Drawing my hand away, I touch the stabilising device on my chest. At this point, I'm convinced the device has no effect on my condition other than being a constant reminder of it. "I'm not hungry," I say under my breath.

"You haven't had anything to eat in a while, Harper." Laura sits in the chair next to me, pushing the bowl slightly closer to me.

I"I don't— I just can't."

"Give it a try," she encourages.

The pleading in her voice urges my hand to the spoon. On the first try, my fingers slip right through it, but I do what I have practiced. Inhaling and exhaling, I will my atoms to draw together and help me pick up the spoon. It works. God am I hungry.

I take a second bite, but on the third spoonful, I phase back into my incorporeal state and the spoon goes crashing into the bowl, milk splashing out onto the table. I want to scream. Why does this have to be so hard? The universe couldn't just take Spencer from me? It also had to take everything I am.

The heat in my chest bubbles up and I slam my fist down on the table in frustration. I had expected it to go through the sturdy wood, but it doesn't. My fist comes down hard onto the table— harder than I would've thought my strength would typically allow. My face buzzes with embarrassment and self-resentment. Anytime I try to make my body do one thing, it just does the opposite. My entire life has become a living, waking nightmare where my own body is the enemy.

"It's okay. Just try again," Laura soothes, putting up her best effort..

Pushing my chair out from the table, I stand. "Than you for breakfast, Mrs Barton," I tell her before rushing to the front door. I don't bother opening it, instead just walking straight through.

One step after the other, I just keep walking. I have no idea where I'm going or where anything is on Clint's property, but I for once just let my body take control. Then, suddenly, I'm running. I didn't use to like running, but SHIELD highly encourages fitness, and running was the one activity I never had to do in a crowded gym. It became routine, giving me a sense of normalcy when everything around me spun so completely out of control. Now, I find myself reverting to it. The farther I run, the more time I can backtrack.