I'm Not an Avenger

Chapter 1

Airport security was a nightmare. I spent the whole time trying desperately to avoid contact with people, but once I was on the plane I was bombarded with a thousand memories that I didn't understand. It was a long flight, and I spent most of it only partially conscious of what was happening.

Security was much less organised in New York - have they not heard of queues? - so I was barely able to pay the taxi driver when we arrived at the Avengers' headquarters. He looked mildly concerned, but took the money and drove away. I sat down on the low outer wall, shaking. Lives were complex, and I'd touched so many people despite my precautions that it was many minutes before I got back to myself. I stood up, only to find myself in the presence of a number of security guards, guns aimed at my head. I raised my arms, trying to ignore my heart's desperate crescendo, and allowed them to escort me inside, avoiding physical contact as much as possible. Tony Stark (the Tony Stark!) was waiting to see what all the commotion was about.

"You're the kid who wanted to meet us, right?" He addressed me directly. "The one with the weird powers?"

I nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Stark. I appreciate you need to make sure I am who I say I am, but would it be possible for your security team to wear gloves? You see, I'm aphenphosmphobic when it comes to skin touching skin." Some part of my brain knew I was just showing off to this genius by using the longest word I knew, but I didn't care. I wanted them to think I was sane, and they wouldn't if a load of people who have probably seen some strange things in their time started touching me.

"Of course," Tony said, airily. "But if you struggle we won't care about your phobia."

"I understand," I smiled. "Thank you." I let myself be led away, and for half an hour I did not resist their questioning on any aspect of myself except my powers. I wasn't sure how much they knew, and I wasn't going to tell anyone who didn't need to know. Eventually, I was let through. I knew they still considered me an unknown, and they were probably upping security as soon as I left the interrogation room, but the Avengers could handle themselves, so there weren't guards in the room with us, at least.

"So," Tony was lounging comfortably on a sofa. "What is it about you, kid? How come you're visiting us all the way from Britain?"

I glanced round at the assembled faces. They hadn't exactly called Thor down or shipped Bruce over, but quite a few of them were here. Captain America, of course, and with him The Winter Soldier. Vision, Rhodes (still recovering), Scarlett Witch, Black Widow, Falcon - I knew them all. They couldn't all live in headquarters all the time, so I knew whatever I'd told them last week over e-mail had actually been taken seriously.

"Wait," the Captain stopped me before I could answer Tony. "What's your name? How old are you? What was it you said you were? Something about fear of being touched?"

"Um," I glanced at Tony. "I'm Laurentia Milton, and I'm 17. I said I have aphenphosmphobia, which is, like, the fear of physical contact, but that's not strictly true."

I could see Black Widow rolling her eyes, obviously not pleased about this. It was the Captain who spoke, though. "Then why did you tell security that?

"Well, it is partially true," I admitted. "But it's not irrational. You see, I have powers - sorry, that sounds so stupid - that are activated by skin touching skin. I don't think I explained that very well last week."

"You did make your responses fairly cryptic," Tony said, cocking his head to one side. "But the important thing is what they actually are, which you refused to specify in case someone hacked into your system, and why they brought you here."

"Right, yes." I took a deep breath. "Well, to put it simply, when I touch skin on someone else, it transfers every single memory they have to me, and I'm here looking for help on how to manage it or a cell where it wouldn't be an issue."

"Wait, so you can memory wipe people?" Falcon spoke up.

"No, not really," I turned to him. "It's not that they lose their memories; they're just, like, duplicated. I see everything they can recall in a horrible, boundary breaking montage. I don't remember all of it afterwards, in the same way you might not remember every detail of a film series after watching it once. It's generally the strongest memories that stay: so, the happiest, the most embarrassing, the scariest. I'm much more likely to remember recent moments, and I try to forget things that happened to complete strangers unless they're useful." I lapsed into silence, aware that I might be losing them. I noticed the way they leant back and to the side to avoid contact with me. There was a pause.

"Well, a cell can be arranged," Black Widow said. "But I'm not sure how the government would feel about us locking you up since you're under age and foreign."

"There is that, I guess," I smiled weakly. "But I don't know how much else you can do. I grew up with this, so I can handle up to about, maybe, two weeks of information - top ups, so to speak, when I see someone again after a little while - without a fuss. And as you can see, I cover as much skin as I can, and claiming aphenphosmphobia works in most social situations. The main issue is that I can't exactly stop and tell every pedestrian I pass on the street, nor explain to everyone at a music festival.

"And the reason I'm here... Well, there's no British equivalent to the Avengers. We have spies and incredibly smart people, obviously, but we don't have, like, a Captain UK or a Union Jack Witch. There's nothing that's this public." My sarcasm was somewhat lost on them. "You are probably the only people I know of to whom I could explain something like this without sounding crazy, or ask help of with any chance of a useful reply. I don't want your memories - Heaven knows you've all seen enough death to drive anyone insane - I just want your help."

"Who else knows about what you can do?" Vision asked. He sounded exactly like an AI should, with the closest thing to a neutral accent I'd heard in America.

"My brother," I replied. "Felix. He's still in England. There is no one else."

"None of your friends, or the rest of your family?" Tony added.

"No," I blinked. "I never told my aunt and uncle, and I moved away from my best friends a year ago. They just thought I was, like, incredibly observant cos I try to be careful and not let slip that I know every- uh- anything I shouldn't. I only see them occasionally now."

"Wait, where do you live?" The Captain frowned, clearly planning something out in his head.

"I live in Hereford, in England. It's on the border with Wales." I didn't know whether that actually meant anything to them. I found American geography difficult, though at least Britain is significantly smaller.

"And do you live with your aunt and uncle?" He inquired.

"No," I answered vehemently. "I moved out when I turned sixteen. They are technically still my legal guardians, and would be responsible for helping me if I got into some severe financial difficulty, but I live alone."

"So you could move over to America?" Tony stepped in.

"You're kidding, right?" I looked round the group, half a smile on my face but quite confused. "Do your maths, Mr Stark. I'm a 17 year old girl who left school as soon as it was legal. I live in the South West of England alone, and don't trust my guardians enough to tell them about what I'm capable of. I also can't work in a job that involves a likelihood of physical contact with lots of people, which kind of limits my choices. My brother is a student, and engaged to be married, so he's not in a position to help me. I could scrape together enough to get here, but not with any extra baggage. I might buy a souvenir for Felix, but I won't be going round the sights. There is no way I could afford to stay in New York even after giving up the house in Hereford, because I have next to no qualifications and probably can't get another job." There was silence for a moment, and I held my head high as Tony stared thoughtfully at me.

"We can probably help you there," he said, eventually. "But we have to have a purpose, kid. We can't just pull you out of a job and look after you for no reason."

"I thought that might be the case," I grimaced. "But I think I can help you."