Black Star: HYDRA War

丅𝔀𝓔︎𝓷𝐓︎ⓨ︎-รเ︎Ⓧ︎

HOW'D they get out of Siberia, then? If you only took one Quinjet?" Peter questions.

    "The bottom detaches and turns into its own little two-person jet. They took that. And it has much simpler controls, so Steve is actually able to drive it."

    "But it has a tracker, right? So you can find them again?"

    You adjust your position so your head is up higher on the pillow. The concussion has healed, although it lingers as a dull headache. "It does, but we haven't used it. I don't think Dad is ready to face them yet. They'll come back at some point. Everyone just needs time to cool down, y'know?"

    "Oh, yeah, I bet. Are you okay, though?"

    "Me?"

    "Well, I know you got close with Mr. Barnes, so..."

    "Oh. Uh. Yeah." You laugh once, humorlessly. "I never got to know Grandpa Howard and Grandma Maria, so it's not the same for me as it is for Dad. It's definitely... hard, knowing it was him. But I don't, like, hate him for it. Is that weird?"

    "I mean, I can't really answer that, can I? There's not exactly a social norm for this kind of situation, Lexi."

    You laugh. "You can say that again."

    "I mean, I can't really answer that, can I? There's not exactly a social norm for this kind of situation, Lexi," he says again, grinning.

    "You little shit," you mutter, but grin back.

    "But about it being weird..." his smile fades as he turns serious again. "I'm gonna say no. It just shows you realize what he went through, right?"

    "Yeah... I guess so."

    The conversation fades away, and you enjoy the fact that a comfortable silence, not an awkward one, has come to take its place.

    A moment later, there's a knock on your bedroom door.

    "Come in."

    The door opens, and Wanda stands there, playing with the hem of her skirt. "A package came for you. Stark is waiting in the living room."

    Peter gives you a questioning look. You shrug, but the wheels are already turning. Could it be...?

    You push yourself up off the bed, and Peter copies you, getting off your beanbag.

    "Alright, thanks, Wanda."

    She nods and heads back to her own bedroom. As you and Peter walk down the hallway, you can't get over how much emptier the place feels. Steve obviously hasn't come back in the five days since Siberia, but he's not the only one. Sam went to meet them wherever they've been staying. Clint came back a couple days ago, but just to drop in for a visit, since he's pretty much fully retired now. And then yesterday, Natasha left to take care of some family business. You never knew she has family outside the Avengers, but when you asked her about it, all she said was something about an "annoying sister" named Yelena and a dad who calls himself the "Red Guardian" and has an obsession with Steve. Strange families seem to be a recurring theme with the Avengers.

    "Table for one, Mr. Stank. Please, by the bathroom," you hear Rhodey saying gleefully as you walk into the living room.

    "Woah, hey, back up," you say. "Are we calling Dad Mr. Stank now?"

    Tony sighs. "It's nothing, just a mista–"

    "No, it's not," Rhodey interrupts loudly. "Shush. Don't lie to the kid." He looks at you, smirking. "The guy who delivered the package ever-so-kindly called Anthony over here" — he jerks a thumb in Tony's direction — "Tony Stank."

    Your mouth drops open. "Oh my god. This is– this is the best thing that's happened all week. No, month. No! All year. This tops becoming an Avenger, even."

    Tony lets out another long-suffering sigh. "You're never letting go of this, are you?"

    "Please, Mr. Stank. I thought you knew me better than that."

    He looks appealingly at Peter. "Kid, wanna help me out here?"

    "Oh, no thanks, Mr. Stank," Peter replies with a shit-eating grin. "It seems rude to involve myself in family matters."

    "Atta boy!" Rhodey exclaims happily.

    You flop down on the couch, effectively blocking anybody else from sitting down.

    "Hey, scoot over," Tony says.

    "Concussed priority," you reply.

    "You don't have a concussion."

    "I couldn't get out of bed for three days."

    "It was barely half that. And FRIDAY said you didn't even need one day, you just wanted to be a dramatic little shit. So scoot."

    You groan dramatically but lift your legs and plant them on the floor. The other three immediately take up the newly revealed space. Tony picks up an envelope from the coffee table and stares at it as if waiting for it to reveal its contents on its own.

    "Uh, Tony? I think you might have to open it," Rhodey says sarcastically.

    "Yes, James, I realize that."

    He slowly lifts the flap and pulls the paper out. There's no return address, but it doesn't matter. You only know one person who would send a letter instead of a text.

    "He's so old," you complain.

    Tony discards the envelope on the coffee table and unfolds the paper. Quietly, you begin to read.

    Tony and Lexi,

    I'm glad you're back at the tower. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a big mansion by yourselves. We all need family. The Avengers are yours. Maybe more so than mine.

    I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the Army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either.

    Locks can be replaced. But maybe they shouldn't be. I know I hurt the two of you. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents... your grandparents... I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself. And I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand.

    I also have news to share: King T'Challa knows it wasn't Bucky who killed his dad. He's offered services to us to help Bucky get HYDRA out of his head. We're flying out to Wakanda on the 20th. Whether you want to use that information to meet us there or avoid us, I'll leave that up to you. I won't be hurt if you choose the latter. It's probably what you want. And that's okay.

    But just know that no matter what, if you need me, I'll be there. I promise.

    Best regards,
    Steve