Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  I could only shrug helplessly. 'I'm n-not sure. He told me once th-that I already had th-the serum in my veins. That I was born with it.'

  'Born with it? As in, you inherited it?' Coulson asks, frowning. He paused, thinking. 'From your father, perhaps?'

  'The Chairman said the same thing,' I said. What led Coulson to that conclusion? Was I missing something here? I tilted my head in confusion. 'Why?'

  But Coulson just shook his head head, studying his desk for a moment in private contemplation. 'Hm, no reason.'

  Color me suspicious, but I had a feeling that he was holding out on me. I had just opened my mouth to say so, but Coulson beat me to it. 'You know, you still haven't told us your real name.'

  'Am I really supposed to believe you're just letting me go?' I countered. 'That you won't monitor me to make sure I behave?'

  Coulson blinked, then sat back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of his chin. For a second, he didn't speak; I hadn't answered his question, and from the looks of things, he wasn't going to answer mine — because we both already knew what the answer would be, regardless of whether he said it or not.

  Caught in a stalemate, and probably guessing he wasn't going to get anymore out of me, Coulson just offered me one last smile. 'Have a nice day, Mia. I hope our next meeting will be under better circumstances.'

  'If we meet again.' I corrected, frowning as I stepped back.

  'I believe that's up to you,' Coulson replied, smirking a little. 'Don't forget the conditions of your release. Get home safely.'

  'So,' Skye piped up from the driver's seat, casting me a look. 'You gonna tell me why you needed to borrow my laptop before we left the Bus? I noticed you deleted all the history. Or is it another one of your secrets?'

  She said this last part with a conspiratorial grin, like I was little kid hiding a toy behind her back. I wasn't sure who decided that it'd be Skye who'd drive me to Heathrow airport, but I was pretty sure it was intentionally done with the purpose to annoy me at the highest capacity.

  We were in a nondescript black sedan that smelled vaguely of gunpowder and explosives. It was late morning, traffic making the day seem longer already. On the drive to the airport, I witnessed London in the aftermath of the attack. When I had first arrived here, the streets were easy and bright. Now, they were full of patrolling officers, and there was a notable urgency to the way people walked. It had only been two days since the attack and everyone was still on high alert. Air travel had just resumed, and only to certain countries.

  Luckily, the USA was one of them.

  'It's not a secret,' I replied, peering out the window as the Thames came into view for a moment. I couldn't see Tower Bridge from here, but I spotted a round of helicopters circling above the rooftops. 'I just like my privacy.'

  'Sure, sure,' Skye rolled her eyes. 'And not just to send another email to a friend, right? Without getting SHIELD on their tail, too.'

  I opened my mouth to defend myself, but was cut off by Skye's laughter. 'Hey, it's fine, I'd do the same thing if I were in your position. Hell, I was in your position just a few weeks ago. At least you get to go home, and with a sick new identity, too.'

  I glanced down at the fake passport in my lap. The blue cover said I was an American citizen, which was true. The picture inside was my face, but the age and name were not. 'Gertrude Fitzroy? What am I, a prairie farmer in 1880's Kentucky?'

  'Oh, come on, it's not bad!' Skye protested, although she was having a hard time convincing behind that shit-eating grin. 'Your nickname can be Gertie!'

  'Oh my god.' I breathed in an undertone.

  'Hey, beggars can't be choosers,' Skye held up a finger as we headed into the entryway by Terminal 2. Coming to a park behind a row of taxis, she continued, 'You wouldn't have this problem if you just told us your real name. I mean, it'd still be a forged passport, but at least the FBI won't accuse you of lying if they catch you.'

  I threw her a disgruntled look, although it was only half-hearted. I knew Skye was just teasing me. 'Yeah. I think I'll j-just stick with Gertrude.'

  Her eyes sparkled. 'Excellent plan.'

  As we got out of the car, however, I realized that wasn't the end of it when Skye asked, 'So, what did Coulson want to talk to you about? He usually doesn't have private convos unless it's important.'

  'He just w-wanted to know what I knew,' I said, picking up my backpack and slamming the car door shut. I was dressed in new clothes; I kind of wanted to keep the fatigues, but those had to be returned to SHIELD, but Simmons had been kind enough to pack my old effects in my carry-on, including my yellow raincoat and the photographs I'd taken (resurrected from the water damage taken by my dunk in the river). It was the only piece of luggage I had. 'About th-the Crucible, the Chairman, the Winter Soldier. Ap-Apparently my knowledge was in-invaluable.'

  'Aww, he complimented you?' Skye's eyebrows shot up; she sounded both impressed and envious at once. 'He never says anything nice to me. I mean, he does, but it's like I gotta wring it out of him, you know? Anyways, what's the dealio with your dad?'

  I tripped on the curb, turning to Skye in surprise. 'H-how did you know we talked about that?'

  'I may have eavesdropped,' Skye made a wincing face, holding up her thumb and index finger close together. 'Just a little bit. Enough to hear Coulson asking about it — the Chairman picked you out because of it? Yeah, that's what I thought. So I guess you never knew your dad, right?'

  I couldn't help but give her a beseeching look as we entered the terminal. Now Skye was getting a little close to scary-true. 'What, are you psychic n-now, too?'

  'Just a lucky guess,' Skye said with a self-satisfied shrug, following me inside. She jerked a thumb to her chest. 'Take it from the token orphan, I know the feeling of not knowing who your parents are. And, honestly, if you knew your dad, you'd be freaking out a lot more than you are right now.'

  'What? Why?' I asked as we pulled through a crowd of people exiting — what looked like a high school soccer (football?) team, a family with three kids, and some odd businessmen here and there.

  'Because — ' Skye started, before stumbling over kid's dragging duffle bag. I caught her before she could fall. 'Ugh, thanks. Because your dad, someone you've known all your life, someone you thought was completely normal, is in fact a Super Soldier. But you don't seem bothered at all.'

  I just laughed, shaking my head. But there was a slight tremble to my voice. I had to be completely honest with myself — I had never actually thought about it. Never really considered what the Chairman's words had meant back then. Of course, it was all just a fractured memory, and the nature of those bothered me more than the some of the contents, so I liked to think I had a pretty good excuse for not realizing the truth sooner…

  'Mia, seriously, think about it,' Skye insisted, coming to a stop long enough for me to see the sincerity in her face. She was being completely serious for once. 'How many people like you actually exist?

  People like me? Who could that possibly even mean… I paused, my laughter cutting off short when I finally cottoned on to what she was getting at. 'Wait, y-you're not saying —?'

  'That's exactly what I'm saying.' Skye raised her eyebrows at me, hands on her hips.

  'C-cap...' I almost couldn't say it. We were surrounded by people. Anyone could overhear. My next words came out forced, hushed: 'Captain America? But how? I-i-it's just not —'

  'Possible?' Skye guessed, crossing her arms with a knowing look on her face. 'I don't know, maybe. But who else could it be, right?'

  'No way.' I held up my hands, palms out, as I rocked back on my heels. Shaking my head pointlessly. 'There's just no way…'

  'Look, maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think the odds are in your favor,' Skye had the decency to look sympathetic. Then her attitude switched when I started to turn around again. 'Oh, come on, you aren't going to ask me who he is? SHIELD's the only one who knows his real name. I mean, you've got to be curious.'

&nbs
p; I bit my lip, unwilling to admit it. Yet, I lingered.

  'His name is Steve Rogers.' Skye smirked, a knowing look that was starting to bug me a little. Then she shrugged one shoulder. 'Maybe ask your mom about him when you get home. If anyone knows, she would.'

  I didn't have a response for that. Honestly, I was too scared to think of anything to say. Too stunned, really. 'I-I guess…'

  Offhand, I knew the last thing I was going to ask Mom when I got home would be about my father. Are you kidding? She probably thought I was dead until I just, what, show up at home one day? Looking completely different? Covered in bruises and scars and tattoos? Uh, yeah, my father would be the last thing on her mind.

  'Hey, don't overthink it,' Skye said, punching me lightly in the shoulder, giving me an encouraging smile. 'You've got plenty of time to think on the ride home. Nine hour non-stop flight, economy class, gonna be fun! You'll really start to miss the quinjet by the end of it, I'll bet. This is the last leg of your trip! Then you get to go home and explain to everyone just where the hell you've been all this time.'

  'Wow, you really know how to look on the bright side of things.'

  'It's what I do,' Skye winked at me, then patted my shoulder as I headed over to the ticket line. As we finally parted ways, she waved and called, 'Stay safe, Gertie!'

  I threw Skye one last look over my shoulder before she disappeared back into the exiting crowd, blending in perfectly with her dark clothes. Then I faced the line again, moving forward at a steady pace. There was even more security here than on the streets, which was saying something considering the current political climate.

  My hand clenched tightly around my papers, knuckles white. I nearly bent the passport, nearly forgetting my strength again. I'd never been in an airport before. I'd never flown. I had no idea how things worked. Skye told me not to worry about it earlier on the way here, but now on my own again, I suddenly felt surrounded, overwhelmed, and very, very small again.

  Breathe. I reminded myself. Just breathe. Last night you fought two dozen KGB agents and escaped the Crucible for the second time. One normal little airport isn't going to stop you now.

  Fear and excitement and impatience all mixed together in my gut to make a confusing recipe. I was scared of the new experience, of getting in trouble again for things I shouldn't have and shouldn't be; excited to finally, finally be going home! Impatience just for this damn line to get moving, I only had another forty-five minutes till boarding time...

  And on top of it all, I had some new information to mull over.

  My fear of the airport slipped away as my mind started treading water, thinking of Captain America.

  What Skye said sounded possible, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, might even be true. Could Captain America really be my father? I mean, Skye was right, there weren't exactly a lot of Super Soldiers running around, certainly none I could think of Mom ever running into...

  But it didn't make any sense! The guy's been trapped in ice for over sixty years, when the hell did he have time to pop on over to New York City for a chance rendezvous with Mom? What, did he just go back under, leaving Mom with a baby for the next fifteen-odd years? That didn't seem very Captain America of him.

  My brain just couldn't process the logic. Skye was right. The only one who could answer this would be Mom or Steve Rogers himself. Somehow, I doubted I was going to find his number in the Yellow Pages.

  Eventually, I found myself boarding the jet for New York. My backpack was small enough I could stuff it under the seat in front of me. Sitting down, I stuck my feet under it, finding the weight a comfortable presence. I was one of the first to board, and managed to catch a window seat over the right wing. This was my first flight, might as well make the most of it.

  ...Except the Chairman knew, too, I realized privately, falling back to my original line of thought. He obviously knew who I was, where to find me. But he was a last resort — of all the people willing to tell me the true identity of my father, I figured the Chairman to be the least willing, and by far the least available. If it came down to it, I decided the question not worth answering; I wasn't going to chase down the Chairman just to know who my dad was. The risk just wasn't worth it.

  I found myself pretty satisfied with this conclusion. It wasn't too different from my old one, regarding my father; in the end, it almost didn't matter to me. Maybe that would change, or maybe I was just lying to myself because I'm in serious denial, but still. I had priorities. I'd ask Mom, and if that led nowhere, then...well, I'd handle it.

  It was at that moment I felt something nudge into my side. I didn't notice it at first, until the nudge turned into a sharp jab. I jumped, alarmed when the sensation didn't go away — when I recognized the feel of metal.

  I looked down. The syringe dug into my ribcage, needle somewhere in my veins, plunger pressed all the way down. I didn't even see what had been inside. I followed the hand holding it, up the arm, to the face of the passenger who had sat next to me.

  I recognized that red hair, that wolfish smile instantly.

  'Missed me?' Brandt asked, her eyes gleaming.Peter was in the middle of his AP History reading when Ned showed up.

  He hadn't been expecting it. Although it was a Friday evening, Peter was holed up in his room, doing homework. Why? Peter wasn't sure. He wasn't really feeling up to his usual shenanigans. Bitter pre-winter rain pattered against his window, a convincing argument against going out as Spider-Man tonight. And to be honest, he was rarely in the mood socialize lately.

  Losing half of your family in a single year could do that to you.

  But Peter wasn't necessarily averse to the idea when it came to Ned, who he could talk to about almost anything — more than he could ever talk about with May, at least.

  So this, Ned showing up at random, wasn't entirely unusual. Ned had been to Peter's apartment so often it sometimes felt empty when he was gone. They stayed up late at night, building Lego sets and playing video games. Aunt May never minded when it was abruptly decided that Ned would sleep over for the night.

  It was a little unusual, however, to see him pale-faced and shaking all over, laptop case tucked under his arm when Aunt May opened the front door.

  When he first heard the distant knocking on the door, Peter had no idea who it was, and sat perked up on his bed while he heard Aunt May answering the frantic noise. His initial thought was that it was Mrs. Garrison from down the hall, worried about her computer leaking radiation again.

  That was obviously proven not the case when Peter heard May speak from his room: '...Ned? What in the… did you run all the way over here yourself?'

  Ned's reply was muffled, breathless. 'Hi, Mrs. Parker — is Peter here?'

  'Ned?' Peter called, poking his head out of his room. He stepped out, only to be intercepted by Ned himself rushing straight for him — so fast they nearly collided. 'Whoa, hey! Ned, what's the big deal? What are you even —?'

  'I have to show you something!' Ned didn't even wait for Peter to finish before grabbing Peter's collar and dragging him back into his bedroom.

  'Ack!' Peter choked, nearly yanked off his feet by Ned's pull. He stumbled into his desk, caught the edge at the last second. 'Jeez, dude, you couldn't just call? It's almost ten at night —'

  'It's too important for a phone call!' Ned replied, slamming the door shut, just as May was coming down the hall to see if everything was all right. Peter could still hear her talking on the other side.

  '...Peter? Ned?' She called after them, sounding as concerned as Peter felt. 'Is everything all right?'

  'It's fine!' Peter yelled through the door, on Ned's behalf. He decided, in that moment, his curiosity took priority over his bewildered irritation. 'It's about, um…'

  'A girl!' Ned supplied, earning a disgruntled look from Peter. He was soaking wet, Peter realized belatedly. Black hair plastered to his head, the shoulders of his bomber jacket soaked through, water dripping down off his chin. Ned really
had come all this way by himself. 'A girl we both know, from school!'

  Peter had no idea what the hell Ned was doing, saying embarrassing things like that, but it did the trick. He heard May's chuckle, her relief that this wasn't a serious issue, at least for her. Peter liked to pretend she didn't know about Liz, but he knew that's what she was thinking of when she said, 'Well, all right, then! Call me if you need anything, okay?'

  'Okay!' Ned and Peter said in unison.

  Under May's retreating footsteps, Peter hissed, 'Did you really come all the way over here because of Liz?'

  'Huh?' Ned gave Peter a puzzled frown. 'No, it's got nothing to do with Liz.'

  'Then why did you say it was a girl?'

  'Because,' Ned started, pulling out his laptop and placing it on Peter's desk, shoving aside a pile of papers and textbooks. 'It's about Mia. More specifically, her email account. Look!'