Unstoppable: A Sequel to "Never Saw It Coming: Pietro Maximoff"

Chapter 3: I've Got Scars That Can't Be Seen

{A/N: Hello! I hoped you've enjoyed the first two chapters. I would like to state, that chapters will be published as soon as I have time to write! I don't think I've said it yet, but these chapters will probably be much shorter than the first book. I no longer have time to write 4,000+ words. If I do have time, I will take the time to write what needs to be said. THIS STORY TAKES PLACE RIGHT BEFORE AND DURING CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR. If you have, comments, questions, concerns, requests, anything of the sort, please feel free to leave a comment! I hope you like this chapter.}

In Loving Memory

Christine E. Blake

1991-2015

So its true? I died. Well, if I died, why am I still here? I check my pulse: yeah, I've got one. I don't know what to do now. Before I can even start to panic, I hear groaning and coughing from behind me. Turning my head to find where the noise is coming from, I see an old man trying to sit up from lying on the ground.

I rush to his side saying, "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry sir. I-I really don't know what happened!" I help him sit up and as I finish he starts laughing.

"They said you were unpredictable! I didn't think you'd still be that way after five months in there!" He grinned in a amazed and sort of shocked way.

"F-f-five months? I've been lying in that thing for five months?!" I shout in shock.

"Tell you what, well first off," he held out his hand, and I took it, helping him to his feet, "Hi, I'm Paul."

"I'm Christine, its nice to meet you."

"I would say, it's nice to meet you too, but I don't really feel like it is given this certain situation. Come with me, dear. Let's get you something to drink, and maybe something to clean up with. Does this sort of thing happen often for you, Avengers?" He asked, linking my arm through his and walking towards the small garden shed.

"Oh, I'm not an Avenger." I say, clearing my throat and trying to find my voice.

"What do you mean you're not an Avenger?" He says, opening the shed door and gesturing for me to walk inside.

"I was never actually apart of the Avengers Initiative. I was only there to train." I say, sitting down in one of the two seats in the front of the neat and clean garden shed.

"Well, if they don't make you apart of the team after this, they're stupid." He says, handing me a glass of water and a wet rag. I thank him before chugging the water and running the wet rag across my face. He gets up and fills a pitcher full of water and then sits back down.

"So, I-I don't know what to do in this sort of situation. This doesn't really happen all the time." He shrugs.

"I don't really know what to do either, I'm afraid." I tell him, pouring another glass of water.

"If you don't mind me asking, why haven't they made you one of them?" Paul asks. Its such a strange concept, to have such a normal conversation when you've been in the ground for five months.

"They tried. I didn't think that being apart of that was for me." I said quietly.

"Now I don't know much about much. But I do know, that what you just did; it isn't what anyone else can do. If that doesn't tell you that you're something more, I don't know if anything ever will." Paul said sincerely.

"I don't really know how they're going to handle this. To be completely honest, I don't know if I can handle this. I don't know how or why this has happened." I said.

"The whole raising from the grave thing or the ground turning to mush and then exploding thing? Which ones causing confusion?" He asked.

"The water? That wasn't some kind of sprinkler system?" I question back.

"We don't have that type of luxury here, I'm afraid. And those graves aren't deep enough to hit any form of water source either. The only water that grass gets comes from the rain. All I do is keep it cut." He replied slowly.

"Both."

"Pardon?"

"I can't mess with water. I could move this glass, sure. But causing water to flood a casket? I don't know how I could have done that." I say, perplexed.

"Well, I can't answer those questions for you, sweetheart. I can call someone to pick you up. I don't really think a trip to the hospital would make any sense with this sort of thing."

"I don't know who to call." I say, shrugging before pouring another glass of water.

"I'm sure those super friends of yours would know how to help you." He suggested.

I shook my head, "I can't call them. If I do they'll just want to run tests and perform studies to try and figure out how I... well how I climbed out. My skill set doesn't apply to what happened. It should have been impossible." I said.

I've already gone through that before. After my mother died, my father had the freedom to put me into those experiments he was working on. What better way to love your daughter than to change her DNA. I won't subject myself to that sort of living. Not again.

"Surely there's someone you can call? Someone who you can trust that'll get you back on your feet. But you've got to be the one to decide who can keep your secret." He suggested.

I sat back in my chair, contemplating what Paul said. If anyone could keep a secret. It's Romanoff. But how would I even begin to explain something I don't even understand? I can't expect everyone I come in contact with to be as calm as Paul.

"And you don't have to worry about me telling anybody about this. There's no one left to tell." He smiled sadly.

"Thank you, for your honesty and consideration. Again, I'm so sorry for what's happened." I tell him.

"Sorry? Don't apologize for living! What you've experienced isn't normal. I think you get a pass on the whole apologizing thing." He chuckled.

"You know what? I might take you up on that phone call after all."