Running Through The Halls

No one was surprised when Becca didn't show up for the second half of the day. After she and Steve had made it to the office, Fury had excused her without hesitation, calling Coulson to drive her home. No one commented on the obvious tearstains that adorned Steve’s shirt, whether it was because they didn’t notice or because they didn’t care. The rest of the day moved sluggishly, ending finally with a short meeting held again in Clint’s room. Fury updated the group on the situation with the senior boy, who had been picked up by the police and was currently being held for questioning.

“I don’t think I have to tell you not to speak about this with your students,” Fury sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “They’ll hear about it eventually, but I don’t want my teachers spreading it. As for Miss Barnes…I, uh, I wouldn’t expect to see her in class for the next couple of days. If you could draw up the assignments for the rest of the week and drop them off for me tomorrow afternoon, I’ll make sure she gets them.”

There were a few nods around the room and Fury rubbed his neck, looking exhausted. “All right. Get the hell out of here.”

Tony staggered to his feet and glanced at Peter. “Hey, do you mind helping me run detention tomorrow afternoon?”

Peter shrugged. “Sure. On one condition.”

“Oh?” Tony arched an eyebrow. “You have conditions now?”

Peter nodded. “You have to grade all the tests by yourself. No help from Bruce or Steve, no suckering one of the rookie teachers into doing it, either. All the tests personally graded by Tony Stark.”

“What? No!” Tony stared at Peter, indignant. “When the hell did you grow a set?”

“No grading, no deal,” Peter looked at Tony meaningfully.

Tony glared at him before sighing in defeat. “Fine. We have a deal.”

Bruce chuckled from beside Peter. “Maybe I’ll swing by detention tomorrow. It’s been years since I’ve seen Tony grade his own tests. He’s been bullying the first year teachers into doing it since he first started here.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Darcy smirked, passing by.

Tony had a far away look in his eye, remembering. “Ah, the good old days. There was only ever one person who said no.”

“Actually, I specifically remember telling you to shove it where the sun don’t shine,” Ms. Danvers corrected from across the room.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony made a face and dropped back into his seat, glancing over at Steve. “Hey. Heathcliff. What’s wrong?”

Steve looked up, surprised, as if he’d forgotten other people were in the room. “Oh, uh, nothing. Just thinking, I guess.”

Tony furrowed his brow. “Don’t do that. You look like a sad puppy and it’s kind of depressing. I keep picturing Air Bud sobbing into his kibble.”

Steve gave a halfhearted smile.

“Slightly better,” Tony observed. “A little more teeth next time. Flash the dimples.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

Tony clapped him on the back. “There we go. Now just keep doing that and you’ll be fine.”

The statement was trademark Tony. Smother any bad feelings and replace them with a façade to please the world. Steve wasn’t so sure that would make him feel better.

Now, what did surprise them was when Becca showed up the next morning. Laughing. Steve had fumbled to snap his jaw shut when she’d come through his door, nearly skipping arm in arm with a friend. He snapped up his phone and dialed Tony as fast as his fingers could manage.

“What the fuck?” Steve demanded upon hearing Tony’s voice.

Steve swore, but it was usually for good reason, so he had Tony’s attention. “Um. I don’t know. What happened?”

“Get down here,” Steve ordered. “Now. And possibly bring Natasha.”

Five minutes later, Natasha pulled open Steve’s door and jerked her head towards the hall. Steve jumped to his feet and nearly tripped over himself to get outside. Closing the door with more force than necessary, Steve grabbed Tony’s shoulder.

“What is happening? Was that a sick nightmare or something? Was I delirious?” Steve demanded.

Tony’s eyes widened and he stepped back out of Steve’s reach. “Okay, I’m gonna need more than that if you want answers that aren’t sarcastic.”

Steve took a deep breath and pointed at his door. “Becca.”

“What? She’s here?” Natasha gasped.

“And she’s laughing, Natasha! It’s like…it’s like yesterday never happened,” Steve insisted.

Natasha and Tony stared at him for a long moment. Finally, Tony reacted. He strode over to the door, ripping it open. The students went silent. Tony scanned the room quickly before slamming the door shut.

“That was weird. She’s smiling,” Tony hissed.

Natasha squinted at him. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually a genius, or if you’re a complete fucking idiot.”

Tony shrugged as if he wondered the same thing. “Do you think she was brainwashed?”

“Probably not, Tony,” Steve said. “What should we do? Should someone talk to her, or should we just go with it? I mean, this is better than her running away, but what if this is some kind of reaction from the shock of it all? That can’t be good for her.”

Natasha thought for a moment. “Fury said he was setting her up with someone to talk to here at school when she came back. I’ll run down and ask him. Tony, go back to your class. You too, Steve. I’ll send you an email after I talk to Fury.”

Natasha turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall. Tony shot a worried look at Steve’s door before wandering off toward the math wing. Steve steeled himself, then pulled open his door and stepped into the oddly silent room.

“Um, Mr. Rogers?” One of the students asked from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing. Mr. Stark was looking for a student that didn’t show up to his first hour,” Steve lied quickly. “For today, I want you all to break into groups and outline the next section in the chapter. I want one assignment from each room, but each of you should have a copy of it on hand for tomorrow.”

It was rare for Steve to dismiss them to do their own work for the entire hour, but no one questioned it. They could tell their teacher was distracted, so it was unlikely he’d be paying close enough attention to discern the odd earbud or cell phone during group work. Steve sat behind his desk, appearing to be entering grades into the computer. Really, he was refreshing his email repeatedly. After about the tenth time, Natasha’s email appeared. Steve sat up straight and clicked to open it.

Guess who pulled shrink duty until Darcy gets back from the conference?

Try not to push her for details. If she doesn’t want to talk, drop it. Fury authorized you to pull her out of third period for a meeting. I’ll send her down after I take attendance.

-Natasha

Steve rubbed his forehead. What in the name of hell was he supposed to say? Hey, Becca, I noticed you aren’t sobbing in a heap on the floor. What’s up with that? Steve squelched a groan. Maybe he could ask Natasha to take over. Steve glanced up to scan the room as he’d been doing every few minutes. His eyes landed on Becca, who stood and walked over to the pencil sharpener. In that moment, her smile dropped and she looked more exhausted than he’d ever seen. Her shoulders drooped heavily with the weight of a sadness no teenager should ever have to bear. Her face lost some of the glow it had held only moments before, and he could tell instantly that she’d been crying for a long, long time. Sure, she’d covered it well with make up and a false smile, but she dropped the act when no one was looking. And realizing this, Steve brushed aside all thoughts of shirking his duty onto Natasha. He couldn’t stand to see Becca like this.

Becca carried on much the same way throughout Tony’s class, joking with her friends and raising her hand to answer Peter’s questions. She’d even managed to showcase some of her usual witty banter with Tony before class started. Tony was surprised that he actually felt a little pain for her. He had no idea how she felt, but he knew all about brushing off depression and fear, covering up how you felt on the inside with a flashy, look-at-me-now exterior. All she needed was a decade or so and a factory full of whiskey, and she’d have been the female embodiment of Tony Stark himself.  Peter seemed surprised at Becca’s behavior, too, but he didn’t say anything until after the bell rang, when the classroom was empty.

“Is Barnes okay?” he asked quietly.

Tony looked weary. “I don’t know, kid. I don’t know.”

It hadn’t taken long for word of Becca’s return to spread through the teachers, and many of them made a point to stand outside of their rooms between classes, keeping a close eye on her. Becca, ever the observant one, noticed, and made herself walk with her head up, a smile on her face and mindless chatter leaking out of her mouth in the direction of her friends. She didn’t care what she was saying, or if they were listening, so long as no one noticed her. For years, that was all she’d wanted, to be noticed. Military kids, they moved around a lot. It was difficult to make friends, to establish connections, when you might be there and gone in a matter of months. But in Manhattan, Becca had only been here two weeks, and she had already found her place. Just like that, it could all go away, she thought. So she kept it inside, her sadness. Kept the burden off of her new friends and forced herself to act normally.

And it was all going splendidly until Ms. Romanoff called her up at the beginning of class.

She slipped a note in Becca’s hand. “This is a pass to go see Mr. Rogers. Don’t worry if it takes all hour. I’m confident you can more than catch up if you miss today’s lesson.”

Becca took the note, confused, and slipped out into the hall, her notebook slapping against her thigh as she walked. The language hall wasn’t far from the social studies hall, but she took her time, not entirely sure she ever wanted to make it to Mr. Rogers’ room. Unfortunately for her, the walk came to an end and she knocked lightly on the door, hoping he wasn’t in or didn’t hear.

“Come in.”

Damn.

Becca bit her cheek and opened the door. Steve was perched on the edge of his desk, flipping through his lesson plan.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said, throwing a sloppy salute in his direction.

Steve offered a friendly smile and gestured to the first row. “Take a seat, Becca.”

She hesitated. “Am I failing? Because I checked my grades a few days ago, and I’m pretty sure I had an A in this class.”

“You aren’t failing,” Steve assured her.

Becca clapped her hands together, covering up her nerves with bravado. “Great! Then I will just be on my way, returning to the wonderful world of foreign language! Have a nice day!”

“Becca,” Steve’s voice was firm. “Sit.”

Becca sighed and hesitated before a desk. “Can I make a request? Can I sit on the floor or something? I feel like this is a pop quiz.”

She looked up and could tell Steve was fighting a smile. “Sure.”

Becca folded her legs underneath her gracefully. “Okay. Hit me.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Becca cut him off by clearing her throat. She looked pointedly at the floor in front of the desk and wiggled an eyebrow.

“This will be a lot less awkward on the floor. Probably. I have a feeling this is going to be really uncomfortable anyway,” Becca mused.

Hoping to get her to pay attention, Steve sat across from her, folding his legs neatly. “You know what I’m going to ask you about.”

Becca nodded miserably, her calm and collected act beginning to falter already. “Yeah. I have some idea.”

“Fury thinks it’s a good idea for you to talk to someone. He originally assigned Ms, Lewis, but she’s away for a conference right now, so you’re stuck with me,” Steve joked lamely.

Becca shrugged. “Could be worse. I could be having this conversation with Coach Odinson.”

Steve had trouble biting back his laughter, an image of Thor trying to get Becca to talk to him. “That is true.”

Becca giggled, looking away, and silence stretched.

“Becca,” Steve coaxed softly. “Talk to me.”

Her face was turned away from him, but he could see her bite her lip. Her chin trembled as if she held back tears.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she answered quietly. “A teenage boy did something incredibly stupid, with no thought as to how it would hurt someone else. Happens every day, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve shook his head. “Not like this.”

Becca sucked in a breath. “Maybe not, but it isn’t anything to get all worked up over.”

Steve itched to reach out to her. “That isn’t true, and you know it. You’re obviously upset, and with good reason! Let us help you.”

“No!” Becca insisted fiercely, whipping around to look at him. “No. Because if I ask for help, that’s me admitting that something happened, and I don’t want to do that. What I want is for all of this to go away. I want to not have my teachers treating me like an incompetent child! I want to walk through the halls without feeling violated! I want to make jokes with Mr. Stark, and screw around with Mr. Barton and Ms. Lewis. I want to come in and kick ass in history, and learn as much as I can from Ms. Romanoff, and then I want to hang out with people who like me for who I am, not people who pity me because I’m the girl Danny Hall wrote the paper about. I am more than that!”

The classroom rang with silence after her outburst.

“But at the same time, I know I can’t ignore it,” Becca continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because next time, it might not be just a paper. Next time, he might actually do it. And if I act like it never happened, someone could get hurt. Another girl could end up like this, and I can’t let that happen. I refuse to let someone else get hurt because I’m scared!”

Steve felt a surge of warmth for the girl. She felt responsibility beyond what was expected of her, but she was determined to uphold it. He knew she would rather have every excruciating detail of what had happened thrown into the light than have someone else be hurt in the same way, or worse.

“I don’t need to talk about what happened,” she insisted. “Not now. I know what happened, and I know that it tears me apart. But it’s my burden to bear, and I can work through it on my own.”

Steve knew it was useless to argue with her right now, so he nodded.

Becca pushed herself to her feet and ran her hands over the thighs of her jeans. “I’m going to go back to class now, if that’s all right.”

Steve stood, turning back to his desk. “Of course.”

Becca paused, her hand on the door. “Mr. Rogers?”

“Yeah?” Steve turned.

“If…If I do need to talk…” she trailed off.

Steve smiled gently. “I’m here if you need me, Becca.”

She nodded slowly and slipped out into the hallway, letting his door swing closed behind her. Steve dropped into his desk chair, letting his head fall back with a loud sigh.

“Get it together, Rogers,” he muttered.

He wasn’t ready to admit to himself what, exactly, he was feeling, but he was smart enough to pull a Tony Stark and shove the inklings way down deep, where neither the light of day nor his mind could reach them. However, that didn’t help when the smell of Becca’s perfume lingered around his desk for the rest of the day.