A Place In This World (Beginnings and Goodbyes, #1) {Completed}

a chance to hold on

I step out of the changing room, dressed in my new uniform. When I touched the material, I knew Fury had sent it along somehow. A nondescript SHIELD uniform, navy blue and form fitting, but durable and comfortable to move in, perfect for a field agent. Although I'm not sure I actually have a rank or official title now that I'm here. I am just Cara, no codename, no special file, completely off the record. But I suppose I got lucky, like really, extremely lucky, and I shouldn't get too far ahead of myself. But now that I've started to think about this, I can't stop myself.

Too many thoughts drown out the room around me, drown out the sound of my boots thudding against the floor as I cross it, but as I sit on a metal bench, its chill running up my spine, I notice my fingers trembling as I lean down to lace up my boots. Deadly, strange times ahead, and I worry I might not be as prepared as I have believed myself to be. Because, really, how do I actually know if I'm ready, if I am even capable of fighting beside such esteemed heroes? I'm just a kid with really good aim, nothing more. It doesn't really matter if Captain America himself wants to vouch for me, or that I have Natasha's support, or Fury's permission. I am nobody, but lucky.

"So, when were you going to tell me about that boy you go see? Jaime, was it?"

I blink before I warily look up at Dad. "What?"

"Fury was only concerned." Dad shrugs, but he's eyeing me too closely. "Thought I should know what my daughter gets up to when I'm not around."

An argument can follow whatever it is I say next, but I don't want to fight with him. And I don't want to waste the energy because what actually comes next is more important, more vital than anything I could say about Joaquin right now. My fear and doubt don't take away from that reality of truth.

"You won't have to worry about what I do when you're not around anymore because I'm here," I say and stand. "Doing the thing that I've been wanting to do for a long time, because everyone else believes I can do it." My face, my voice, softens. "Because I believe this is more important . . . than a boy whose name nobody seems to get right."

"So, if I return home after this is all said and done, and I seek this kid out, what would he say to me about you?" Dad pushes more than he needs to, and I don't understand why he won't let this go like I want him to.

I sigh and look him in the face. There's always going to be a part of me that will always be protective of Joaquin, no matter what. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Cara, pumpkin, you don't just keep someone a secret from the people you're closest to for years, and then have nothing to say about them. Why did this boy mean so much to you? You can tell me now, the damage has already been done. Trust me, I can take it."
I sigh again, fiddle with the quiver he now places in my hands. "He's trustworthy, Dad. He won't leak our location or discuss our existence with anybody. I swear, I promise." I look into my dad's eyes again, note the sympathy in them, and I draw in a shaky breath. "He is my best friend, Dad. I can tell you that much. And I—and I didn't get to say goodbye like I wanted to. Not really."

"He's a good kid?" Dad sounds skeptical.

I hold back a snotty snort. "Yes, upstanding. You'd like him."

Silence passes in between us as I realize my dad will probably never meet Joaquin. I bite my bottom lip, worry at it between my teeth.

"I kind of wished I told him everything, and I mean everything if it meant I'd get to have him in my life forever," I whisper, the tears stinging my eyes.

Dad brushes away a few stray tears. "You've never been selfish, Cara. You're keeping him safe this way. Think of it like that."

Another beat of quiet, another second of me holding back everything.

"But this? You won't be coming home, will you?"

I shake my head and look down at my quiver, fully loaded and ready to go. "I'm meant to be here."
"You know," Dad purses his lips and sits down on the metal bench behind him. "I don't think I've made this clear with you, but if you're having second thoughts, Cara, it's okay to step down and say no. You don't have to be taking orders from everyone else around you. You could just take your mother's orders, which I bet are a lot more doable than what these guys will ask you to do."

"Don't worry, Dad, I know. But Fury's right. I have to prove that his, and yours, and Nat's time and energy poured into my training hasn't been for nothing. There's still a lot I'd like to learn, and who would want to pass up the opportunity to be trained by Captain America himself? I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm not going to give this up." I sling the quiver over my back, and I approach the cabinet next to where Dad is sitting. I pull out a crossbow and bolts, and begin adding what I can to the belt of my uniform.

"Your mother is not going to like hearing that."
"I'll come home, Dad. I just want to reach my full potential, and I can't do that anymore on the Homestead. I've plateaued there. I can be pushed here."

"You want to take me out of the running, don't you?" Dad crosses his arms over his chest and leans back to catch my eye..

I stop and stare at my father, but his eyes are on the spot on the floor at his feet.

"Isn't that why . . ." I start, but then I know what needs to be said. "No, it's not that completely. I've just been thinking a lot lately about what it was like growing up in the circumstances that I did, with you and Mom, having to move around a lot in the beginning before settling down on the Homestead, when there would be months without seeing you. I've been thinking that when Nathaniel comes that I don't want him ever knowing that feeling of uncertainty when it comes to you. I want him to always have you there, and I know you missed out on so many milestones with me and Coop and Lila, and maybe the fourth time's the charm, and you'll never have to miss Nathaniel's first word, first step, his first lost tooth. Whatever it is. You deserve to be a full time dad."

Dad says nothing for a while, and I can feel time ticking by, and it's almost time to leave. He raises his eyes to mine, and I've never seen my dad cry, not really, but his eyes look a little misty, more so than earlier on the quinjet. He stands, and I suppose he doesn't really have to say a word to convey what he's feeling. He smiles a weepy grin down at me, caresses the side of my face, and places a kiss on my forehead. And then he wraps me up in an all-engulfing hug. I snuggle close to him, and for a moment, I am five years old again, and he's just come home after being gone for weeks, and he's got some cuts and bruises on his face, but he's home, and I know that's always a good thing, a good sign.

"I love you, pumpkin."

"I love you too, Dad."