HADES // T. STARK DAUGHTER // MARVEL I.I

15 ~ HARLEY ~ 15

There is one person I know I can just be around nowadays. She's known my father for years, that I knew just by the way she mentioned him. Casually, slightly amused, and a bit annoyed. That's how my father made most people -like Uncle Rhodey and Pepper, even me- feel when you got to know him. He knew how to push buttons and somehow made every act seem like the most fun thing in the world.

I disliked her at first, for obvious reasons, at least to me. Most females who knew my father had slept with him at some point or another. It was no secret, and even if I didn't see the walk of shame in the morning as I tried to eat, the tabloids were filled with images of his latest companions. I almost wish Hydra had kept those memories when they jacked up my head.

~~

I sighed as I ate my cereal, sitting on the countertop since nobody was around to scold me yet. My legs dangled beneath me, thumping against the cabinets. Just as most mornings, I was quick to pull my headphones over my ears as I heard footsteps nearing. Usually, that eased the awkward pleasantries various women tried to exchange. It's like- you slept with my dad, gross, please run away already.

Sometimes, it reminded me of my mom. But, the women never moved to be mean or hurt me; most scurried away in embarrassment at the sight of me. And, Tony never really let them talk to me. So, I told myself it was fine; I was fine. As many similarities my mother and my dad shared, Tony would never hurt me. I believed that. I had to.

Two years with a dad meant I had to trust him now, so I tried my absolute best to go along with anything he said. Even if it meant holidays spent surrounded by strangers messing my hair and pinching my cheeks. Even if it meant smiling and laughing and forcing back all of the messy memories and feelings that came with everything from when I was younger. Even if it meant smiling and grinning even when I felt terrified or paranoid.

I wasn't a Wilx anymore. I wasn't her daughter. I was a Stark. Daughter of Tony, granddaughter of Howard, in line to inherit Stark Industries and a certifiable genius. I wouldn't be who I used to be. I couldn't anymore.

~

I wasn't good. I know that. Momma had said that more than enough times. Even if Harry says otherwise.

I knew Harry was good, though. He was meant for amazing things, even if I wasn't. I know that- even at eight. So, I started sending letters and using the library computer to send letters. I wasn't good, but even at eight, I was smart. I wrote essays filled with pleads and examples of how amazing my brother was. I used anything and everything I could; varsity on his soccer team, 3.4 GPA, that one time he saved a kid from drowning when he was twelve, I even sent pictures of him and me, used the most complex words I could find on some and than misspelled and messed up others, in hopes they would take pity and somehow rescue my brother.

And, I guess they did. A few days ago, Harry never came home from school. I'm not even sure if he went in the first place, seeing as he sent me ahead, claiming he was running late. When I checked the closet from his things, most of his stuff was left behind, only what I identified as his prized possessions gone from their hiding spots.

He left me. And although I had been trying to save him for months from this awful life, just like he always saved me, I always thought he would take me with him. And, he didn't.

~~

Harry was always a sore spot in my past. More than my mother, and my father. Because, Harry was the one person I had truly, blindly, trusted in life. And, he left me.

Yet, nearly a decade, he comes and rescues me from Hydra. And he's not dead in a ditch somewhere, and he hasn't been looking for me for the past seven years. He's with Shield, the agency my grandfather helped found, the one that I'm half-sure saved my father's life a couple of times, all while Harry was just a call away.

Many times, I've almost told Tony about Harry. Sometimes, I would search his name up, scroll through news articles and images, looking for some assurance that he was okay. I didn't want to Annie my life if it meant the boy who practically raised me would get left in the dust. Even if he left me first.

My big brother would be on my mind constantly at first, but he soon drifted in and out, eventually getting blocked out completely. Like he was never there in the first place. My brother, my protector, my safety, my comfort object. He was the equivalent of a teddy bear or a baby blanket to me for so long, I depended on him. But, he didn't depend on me. Clearly.

I think that's why it's so hard now. I don't want to trust him. To rely on him again if he's just going to leave eventually. That's why it took so long for me to trust Tony, why it was so easy for that connection to be broken, probably why Harry was the host of my darkness when I was at Hydra. Because, deep down, I still thought of him as the hero who left me in the hands of the villain.

But, that day in Fury's office, when I got my assignment, I saw that it broke Harry. He didn't want me to be hurt any further. He probably was still kicking himself for not finding me sooner, before they had a chance to break me. And my younger self would kill me for not tackling Harry in a hug that first moment I saw him.

I don't think I can hug Harry, not now. Even if I wanted to, touching can lead to hurting. I've done it before, accidentally hurting people as my skin brushed theirs, when I'm unprepared. They don't get Dead Patches likes me, instead, they pass out, or start bleeding. I cringe thinking about my failures, and about what actually touching someone might do; hugging, hand-holding, Lord knows what would happen if I ever had my first kiss. Not that I'll have the chance anytime soon.

But, besides my lack of ability to initiate a forgiveness-filled hug, I still need to make sure there are no loose ends in my sibling-ship. I'm not ready to forgive my brother for leaving me, but I felt that if I needed him to be okay with me, and my mission.

Which is where Natasha comes in.

She's stopped at the base a few times since I've arrived, never staying for long. Right now, she's on some mission out of the country, but in the past few days, she's been, well, coaching me on what to say. I didn't want to have some hugg-y cry-fest, but I needed to sound sincere. Growing up between my mother and father, I never learned a lot on properly expressing myself. But, as a super-assassin-spy-dude, Natasha was great at acting, so I figured she must know how I could possibly express the jumble of thoughts and emotions my defective-brain came up with. And, she was my only option.