Meet and Greet
“Again!”
Payton was spinning. Around and around she twirled, the tutu around her waist swished in the air with the movement. She was not alone. All around her, more Widows mirrored her motions, each dancing in time with each other as Madame B called out the steps. Her body was exhausted, her muscles burned, and her feet bled. She couldn’t recall how long they’d been at it, but judging by the stench of sweat that permeated the room, it had been awhile. But the Madame was ruthless. There was no reprieve as they were forced to dance, their routine was danced to perfection, but it seemed the Madame was in a sour mood.
It was one of those days. The days where Madame B would shout ‘Again!’ at them time and time again until one of them failed. The Madame wanted an example today and all of them knew it. There was a hint of fear in the room, buried beneath the stoicism that was expected from each and every Black Widow.
“Again!”
On and on it went. Payton spun and stepped and leaped, graceful in a way she never could have been before the Spider. Her motions were precise, her balance impeccable. While all of the Widows had perfection expected from them, Payton could tell from the glint in Madame B’s eyes that she had gone beyond what was considered perfect for a normal human. The Spider had made her better than human, and under the Madame’s tutelage she had transcended.
A stifled, pained gasp shattered the moment. The girl it came from attempted to push through whatever had happened, but failed. The girl attempted to join the rest of them in their newest pirouette, but the second all her weight was on what must have been an injured leg she collapsed.
Payton recognized her. She was just a year or two older than herself and had gotten injured on her first mission after graduation. Something had torn in her leg. Apparently, it hadn’t healed all the way. And it meant that the girl failed the test.
Heavy combat boots stomped against the polished wood floor. The young blonde Widow struggled to stand, but she couldn’t recover in time before two large hands wrapped around her head and twisted . The snap echoed in the chamber. Madame B had her example, and the tension in all of their shoulders lessened as they knew they survived another day…
“Again!”
The body hadn’t been removed. They danced around it. A short while later the next girl failed, twisting her ankle on a bad landing. She was killed with a knife to the heart. Her body was stacked on top of the other girl’s. A morbid centerpiece to their dance.
“Again!”
An older widow collapsed in exhaustion. A bullet to the head. Another body on the stack.
“Again!”
A younger girl, younger even than Payton. She merely mistimed a leap, breaking the perfect synchronization. She was suffocated. Two armored hands wrapped around her throat. The body pile grew.
“Again!”
“Again!”
They kept dancing, one Widow’s death at a time. Eventually Payton was the last one standing. Her legs felt like jello, and her feet were soaked in blood, both hers from her torn nails, and the blood that seeped from the bodies, pooling across the floor.
“Congratulations, Widow. You passed the test. Here is your reward.” Madame B stepped aside, allowing the Enforcer who killed all of the others to march toward her and wrap his large hand around her wrist before dragging her off to one of the side rooms. She knew what came next. It was only a matter of time until her turn came, she’d known that all along.
The room she was dragged to was lined with mirrors. There was nowhere she could look to avoid seeing herself, and she couldn’t run. Her legs were like lead.
His hands tore the straps of her leotard from her shoulders, forcing the tight clothing down. Her eyes were drawn to the scar across her belly, a gift leftover from her graduation. When she was bare, the Enforcer lifted his hands and removed his helmet. Platinum blonde hair was revealed first, then the sapphire blue eyes, and finally, the menacing grin she remembered so well.
“Lookin’ good, Einstein.”
Payton woke with a lurch, cold sweat ran down her body as she violently threw herself off the bed. She hadn’t noticed that in her sleep her hand had gone up and stuck to the bed frame, mimicking how the handcuffs used to hold her arm in the air at night. When she threw herself from the bed, her hand didn’t unstick, resulting in the post on the headboard her fingers were wrapped around snapping clean in two, a loud crack accompanied the destruction.
Nausea roiled in her gut, threatening to escape. Payton choked it down. She wouldn’t be weak . She’d become strong over the past half-year. Skip wouldn’t have that control over her dreams and nights again. Pacing, Payton tried to walk off the adrenaline that still pumped through her body; tried to calm her racing heart.
“My healthcare sensors detect that you are in distress, Miss Parker.” FRIDAY’s calm voice bounced through the room.
“I’m fine! It was just a dream.” She snapped, rubbing her temples in frustration.
“Your heart is beating at almost three-times its baseline rate. If you would like, I could contact Boss…”
“No!” She sighed. “No, Friday. I just need to work this off. Is there a workout room I could use?”
There was a noticeable pause. “There is a gym on level 95 if you wish to use it.”
“I’m allowed to?” She verified cautiously.
“I have no specific instructions denying you access to the gym. Boss has, in fact, specifically requested you get the same access as him and Miss Potts.”
Well, how about that? It was a level of trust she wasn’t quite sure she deserved after everything that had happened. And all because she happened to be his daughter? He didn’t know her. Hey Aunt may have told him about who she was, but she couldn’t pretend to be that girl.
Payton made her way to the elevators after changing out of her pajamas and into the closest thing she owned to workout clothes. Having a permanent doctor’s note signing her out of gym had meant she never really needed athletic wear. But the loose pair of shorts and a cotton tee-shirt would do just fine.
The gym, like the rest of the tower, was state of the art. Unlike the Red Room, the entire area was filled with warm, light colors, rather than sharp reds and blacks. Her nose picked up the ever present smell of sweat, and noticeably didn’t catch the metallic tinge of blood. It was…clean.
Hopping onto the nearest treadmill, Payton skipped any warm-up, and set the belt to move as quickly as it could go… and promptly turned it down when she realized that these ones were tuned to be able to be used by Quicksilver… probably his version of a warm-up. No way any of these treadmills would be able to handle moving at the speeds necessary for the fastest Avenger. But it was fast enough for her, the belt beneath her feet blurred as she was forced to pump her legs faster and faster until they burned and her chest heaved with every breath. She’d hoped the effort would help distract her from the night terror but it wasn’t working. Each minute that passed had her chest tightening, the tension in her body increased as her adrenaline continued to build, and not because of her exercise.
Stopping was not an option. If she stopped, then she would be admitting that she couldn’t handle her own thoughts, that she was still the same scared girl she always had been. How would everything she’d been through been worth it if she couldn’t use it to stop herself from another freakout?
A pale hand entered her line of sight and hit the stop button, causing the machine to slow down.
“That’s enough.”
Payton panted, bent over with her hands on her legs as she gulped in air. Turning her head, she followed the arm up to its owner, Natasha Romanoff, who stood next to the treadmill, looking at her seriously.
“Why’d you stop me?” She demanded between breaths.
“I know what you were doing. It wasn’t working, was it?” The Black Widow stated bluntly, arms crossing over her chest. It was a bit odd, seeing someone like Natasha Romanoff in lounge-wear rather than her Avengers gear.
“I don’t know what you are talking about!” Payton denied, standing upright to look the older woman in the eyes without having to crane her neck.
Romanoff scoffed. “Yes you do. You’re in the gym running yourself ragged at two in the morning. You had a nightmare didn’t you?”
“No” She lied. “I just wasn’t tired. I slept enough on the jet.”
It didn’t work.
“Bullshit. You’re not the first girl to break free of the Red Room, Payton. I had nightmares when I first got out. So did Yelena. It's normal, but how you’re responding to it isn’t healthy.”
She stepped off the treadmill. “Why not? I’m just trying to work off some stress.”
“I already mentioned that I knew that.” Romanoff scoffed. “And I also know that it didn’t seem to be working.”
Payton looked away, unable to meet the Avenger’s gaze any longer. “It was just a dream. Why can’t I just get over it?” She asked, her voice smaller now. The fire she’d had at the start was fading fast.
The woman’s hand landed softly on her shoulder. “The nightmares don’t go away easily. It takes work. Nobody is expecting you to be okay.”
She jerked away from the hand. “I should be though! I was only gone for like six months! You and your sister were in there your whole lives! How does that compare!?”
The hard gaze on Romanoff’s face eased into something akin to pity. It made Payton feel gross. “Trauma isn’t a competition, Payton.” The redhead soothed. “Years versus months, trauma affects everyone differently. Yelena and I knew nothing but the Red Room for most of our lives, so yeah, both of us struggled upon getting out. Yelena still is, and I still do at times. But that doesn’t make your experiences any less harmful. It may have only been half a year, but you had a life before the Red Room. You knew what you’d lost, and you had to deal with that every day, knowing that everything in your life would be different. You haven’t been free for more than twenty-four hours yet. Give yourself some time.”
“But what if I’m just… broken? May looks at me and sees the girl I was. Do- Tony - just sees the girl that May told him about. But I don’t think I am that girl anymore.” She whispered.
“Maybe you aren't. Or maybe, that girl is just buried beneath the marble shell the Red Room forced you to build around yourself. Give yourself time. Nobody is going to abandon you.”
“Right…” She mumbled, kicking idly at the ground. “How did you handle the nightmares?” She asked, looking back into Romanoff’s eyes.
Romanoff snorted. “I didn’t for a while at first. I did the same though you were just doing. I went to the gym at SHIELD and tried to run or fight my way out of the memories. It was all I knew how to do.”
The two of them moved to a nearby bench, sitting down and resting their backs against the cool wall.
“Why doesn’t it work? I remember everyone saying how much of a stress relief exercise could be.”
“In normal circumstances, they are right. And given time, you can reclaim it as such. But human bodies form habits that they grow used to; and enough time spent in the Red Room means your body grew used to exercise being used not as a stress relief, but as a stressful, scary thing.” Her companion explained. “Take tonight for example. I bet you refused to let yourself stop, thinking that if you did you’d have failed.”
Payton flinching must have been confirmation enough, because Romanoff continued without pause.
“Under the Madame’s control, stopping without getting an acceptable result led to either punishment or death. Your body remembers that, Payton. You started to run, and then you couldn’t stop until you felt like you had left the nightmares behind, but it doesn’t work like that.”
She curled in on herself, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. “So what do I do?” She repeated, resting her forehead on her legs. She felt Romanoff shrug beside her.
“You find something that the Red Room didn’t corrupt. For me, I couldn’t find that until Clint and Laura took me out shopping.”
“Shopping?” Payton turned to face Romanoff, her face disbelieving, causing the older woman to laugh a bit. She ignored the other name, figuring they were just another one of their friends.
“Yeah. Shopping. They gave me some money to spend and took me out during one of my bad days. I spent most of the time waiting for the other shoe to drop, so I tested them. The only clothes I bought were items that would never match any of the others I chose. I figured they wouldn’t let me look so stupid and they would step in and take control like people always did.” A fond smile grew on her face as she spoke. “They didn’t. I spent the next few weeks looking like a fashion disaster before I eventually accepted that they weren’t going to force any decisions on me. After that, anytime I had a bad day, or night, one of them would introduce me to something else I had never been allowed before.”
Payton giggled quietly. “Uncle Ben always called me a walking disaster. The only shirts I’d pick out for myself were ones with stupid puns on them. They’d make him laugh of course, but he loved to poke fun at me anyway.” She recalled fondly. “Thanks, Miss Romanoff. Hearing experiences from someone else who lived it helps.
“Just Natasha. Or Nat if you prefer. ‘Miss Romanoff’ makes me feel old.”
She smiled. “Okay, Natasha. Thank you again. I think I know what to do now.”
Natasha nodded, patting her on the shoulder. “You should shower first. You stink.” She pinched her nose and shuddered exaggeratingly.
Sticking her tongue out, and feeling a little bit lighter, Payton made her way back to her room, opting to take Natasha’s advice and shower. Afterwards, feeling far cleaner, Payton went towards the dresser. When she had been changing earlier (the Widow armor was still in a heap on the floor. She’d deal with that later) she had noticed a notebook resting on top of the furniture. She hadn’t paid it any mind then, but now she grabbed it from its resting place, interestingly without any dust.
The notebook was one she recognized from back home, though she hadn’t known why it was here until she flipped it open and saw the original sketches for her internship application project. May must have been showing it off to Tony at some point. Some quick direction from FRIDAY also led her to some pens and pencils she could use.
With her materials gathered, Payton thought about staying in the room, but the small, almost barren space felt too confining, and reminded her a bit too much of her nightmare for now. Instead, she made her way back up to the common floor near the top of the Tower. That room had been nice and large, with large windows that looked out on the city skyline.
Before she knew it, Payton was pressed into a ceiling corner, her feet and back sticking to the wall to keep her situated while she sketched. It’d been a long time since she had been able to hide in a corner like this. The Red Room didn’t allow it, so it had just been in The Punisher’s home. She’d noticed more and more how the Spider’s urges had become her own. Originally, it had been the urge to flee and hide against a larger, more dangerous foe. Then, in the Red Room, her predator instincts had been honed. The need to bite, hunt, and trap prey came often, especially while sparring, and never as strong as it had when the HYDRA colonel had been restrained… like a fly in a web.
She shook her head to clear those thoughts, the memory of them bringing her fangs poking back out before they retracted again. Refocusing on her sketches, Payton worked to recall everything she’d worked on back before well… everything. When she’d been locked away in Frank Castle’s den. The web shooters and fluid, her original ideas for apparel that could help prevent sensory overload. It was frustrating work. Payton always had a good memory, but now it was disorganized. Like trying to see an image through a shattered lens. Dreykov had tried to erase her past from her, and almost seven months of torture was not generally good for a person.
Time began to fly by as Payton drew. Concept drawings and schematics of her web shooters came first. The devices had wrapped snugly around her wrists originally, and after months of training with Widow Bites she had become used to the slight squeeze on her skin. None of her sketches seemed good enough though. She tore the pages she’d gone through already and threw them to the floor below, huffing in frustration at her inability to come up with an idea that she liked. After a while, more pages joined the others as the notebook got skinnier. She never touched the drawings of her original project though. Those pages remained safe.
Nine more attempts later, and she was finally onto a design she liked, one that scratched a familiar itch from her original creation. By that point, the morning sun was beginning to shine through the windows, not that Payton paid it any mind; lost in her work as she was. Her progress was slow as she erased marks she’d made to sketch out minor adjustments here and there, but overall, she was pleased with the progress she was making, even if it was just conceptual.
Footsteps made her pause. It seemed like enough time had passed for others to start waking up. The steps halted randomly after a few moments, before resuming at a more cautious pace. Payton was unable to tell who they belonged to until they appeared in her vision, bending down to look at the scattering of crumpled notebook pages that littered the ground beneath her. As it was, the Scarlet Witch seemed confused, looking over the selection of papers and mumbling quietly to herself while she looked around.
Amused, Payton remained silent, observing the Avenger from above while she unfurled some of the scraps and looked at the failed drawings. It took longer than she would have thought, but eventually something seemed to click and the Witch’s neck craned back to allow her to look towards Payton’s spot near the ceiling. They stared at each other for a few seconds before a red haze began to build around the Witch’s hands.
Payton tensed. The red haze meant she was about to use her powers. Did she insult the Avenger in some way? Did the Witch not trust that she was actually free from the subjugation? Her muscles coiled, ready for her to pounce if she had to fight. She didn’t really have anywhere to flee to; the corner she had found for comfort also acted as a trap for herself if they came to blows.
While she prepared to fight, her since-forgotten notebook, now unattended, slid off her bent knees, falling to the floor below. The building red aura around the Witch paused as she began to crack up, bending over in laughter before using the built up energy to fly up to Payton. There was no aggression in her body, and Payton flushed as she realized that she was getting frightened over the other girl just wanting to join her up near the ceiling.
Once the Avenger reached her, a small red platform was built from her magic, allowing the older girl to sit down next to her, and send another tendril of energy back to the floor to pick up the notebook Payton had just dropped. The energy deposited the book back into Payton’s lap before dissipating.
“Hi, I’m Wanda.” The Scarlet Witch extended her hand, a friendly smile adorning her face.
Slowly, the tension in Payton’s body relaxed, and Payton berated herself. She should have known she wasn’t in any danger. Her spider-sense never alerted her about the Witch’s motives. Unless magic didn’t trigger it? There was no reason to assume that magic wouldn’t alert her, but who could know for certain? Either way she wasn’t really keen on finding a scenario in which to test whether or not she would be warned about the occult, arcane, or whatever it was called.
After a moment, Payton realized she was leaving the other girl hanging, and reached out her own hand, taking special care to reign in her strength as she didn’t want her previous fear to make her accidentally crush her hand or anything. “Payton.” She finally returned the greeting, smiling as well, though hers was far weaker than Wanda’s was.
Wanda’s eyes trailed over Payton, making her feel somewhat self-conscious until she spoke again.
“Can your entire body stick?”
She blinked, not anticipating that question.
“I think so?” She replied, looking down at herself now. “I’ve only really tried with my hands, feet, and back. But all of those can stick, so I would assume everything could.” She shrugged.
“Is it tiring?” The other girl continued, her curiosity piqued.
Payton shrugged again. “Not really. It doesn’t take much effort to stick to things… Or any, really. Back… before… I spent like an hour walking circles upside from the ceiling before I even realized I wasn’t on the floor anymore. The stickiness is just something that happens.”
Wanda nodded a few times before diving into more questions, which Payton answered the best she could. She was grateful that the young Avenger was avoiding speaking about any of the more sensitive subjects from recent days. Before long, the questions turned into normal conversation, the two of them traded stories from their lives as the sun continued to rise. Wanda carried most of the conversation, and Payton got the feeling that the girl was simply glad to have another girl closer to her age to talk to now. From what she understood, the only person her age she interacted with on a daily basis was her brother. Payton was fine to let Wanda speak though. Her own usual tendencies to be a chatterbox seemed to have no interest in making themselves known right now.
Before either of them knew it, early-morning had turned to mid-morning, and the quiet ding of an elevator door opening caused them to pause their conversation.
“I thought you said they were up here?” A voice Payton instantly recognized as Captain America asked. It took Payton a moment to realize who he was talking to.
“They are.” FRIDAY responded, sounding amused.
“I’m… not seeing anyone?” The Captain questioned. From the sound of his footsteps, he was approaching the main sitting area. In a couple steps he’d see the pile of scrap that Wanda had found.
Speaking of Wanda, Payton looked up when the Witch snapped a hand up to stifle a laugh, her shoulders shaking in amusement at the Captain’s confusion. She couldn’t help it, Payton smiled back at her, feeling the urge to laugh as well, though she held it down.
“Did Tony put you up to this?” Captain America continued, walking further into the room, and somehow missing the pile of paper that he should’ve been able to see.
Poking her head down past the lip that hid the raised ceiling she and Wanda were hiding-but-not-hiding next to, Payton saw that the Avenger was looking up to the ceiling with an unimpressed look, his arms crossed in a disappointed stance that she recognized from one of the PSAs that she’d been shown back in middle school. Something about bullying.
“Miss Parker and Wanda are both currently in the room.” The AI insisted, causing the Captain to groan in frustration. Unfortunately, that movement made his eyes lock onto Payton’s for a moment before she snapped back upright.
“Busted.” She whispered, meeting Wanda’s eyes. The other girl couldn’t hold it in anymore, and let the laughter out as she floated down from the corner.
Following her, Payton released her back and feet, allowing herself to free-fall into a flip, landing perfectly on her feet and rising in a gymnasts pose. The Red Room liked things like that. Perfect posture in everything. She shuddered away the thoughts of the Red Room, despite knowing they would return later. She lowered her arms.
“Right.” Captain America said lamely, before snapping out of whatever stupor he had found himself in. “It's nice to finally meet you, Payton.” He strode towards them and held his hand out to her.
Tentatively, she shook it. “We met on the jet?”
He shook his head. “You were half asleep and confused. I hardly call that a meeting.”
“Fair enough.” She shrugged, releasing his hand.
“Feel free to call me Steve. Everyone else does.”
Wanda laughed, shaking her head. “Not everyone. Tony calls you everything but Steve usually.”
Payton watched as Steve gave Wanda an exasperated look before ruffling her hair a bit, much to the girl's annoyance.
“Is everyone coming up here?” Payton asked, interrupting the moment.
Steve nodded. “Yeah, Clint’s out getting breakfast; Yelena followed him. I don’t actually know why. Nat just finished in the gym and will be up when she’s cleaned up, and Tony is out picking Pepper up from the airport and should be back soon. I came to get everything set up. I don’t know where your Aunt is, but she should be here soon too.”
“May Parker is finishing getting ready for the day in her room.” FRIDAY butt in.
“The Winter Soldier isn’t joining?” Payton asked without thinking, and felt a pang of guilt when she saw Steve flinch. Something must have shown on her face though, as Steve was quick to respond.
“He’s not, but it's not because of you.” He assured, though she didn’t believe him, which must’ve also shown on her face (she really needed to get a better grip on her emotions. Come on , Payton!) judging by Steve’s follow-up. “He doesn’t blame you. Out of all of us, him and Yelena know what it's like to not have control over your actions… Clint too actually. And Bruce, though he’s not here.”
“Hawkeye was mind-controlled?” Payton questioned, astonished. That had never been mentioned anywhere before.
“Yeah, Loki took control over his mind back before the invasion.” Wanda answered for Steve.
“Jeez…” She trailed off, unsure what to say.
“That’s just to say that Bucky doesn’t blame you for being the one to use the trigger words. He’s not joining because he wants to be alone for now; get a handle on the fact that he is back in New York for probably the first time since the forties.” Steve promised, his eyes earnest enough that Payton felt comfortable believing him. It didn’t assuage the guilt she felt though. “Why don’t you two help me set up?” Steve suggested, and with nothing better to do, Payton agreed.
Together the three of them set the dining table that took up a large section of the room. There were enough spots to hold the entire Avengers team, so there was more than enough room for them, seeing as over half the team was apparently on another mission somewhere. Natasha and Aunt May were the next two to join them, exiting the elevator together while cutting off whatever conversation they had been having. By then, the table was set, so they just sat down and waited for Clint and Yelena to make their way up. FRIDAY had informed them that the two had returned from their trip to a nearby cafe, carrying enough food for the lot of them.
Soon enough, the elevator dinged open again, revealing Hawkeye and Yelena, both swamped with bags of food that they managed to hold onto while they stumbled their way towards the kitchen.
“Sorry for the delay! The press somehow found us while we were waiting. You know how they are!” Clint (Payton figured that all the Avengers were going to insist she use their names, might as well start now) announced to them, setting down the last bag with a sigh of relief. “A bunch of vultures, I’m tellin’ ya.”
“You’re not late. Tony and Pepper aren’t even back yet.” Steve mentioned.
Natasha snorted from her spot next to Payton. “What a surprise.”
They spent a few minutes socializing as they got the food organized, May specifically focused on her, asking her how she slept and if she was feeling alright. After a quick glance towards Natasha, who gave nothing away, Payton admitted silently that she had a nightmare, but that she didn’t want to talk about it. Accepting that, May continued to fuss over her, which brought a warm feeling to Payton’s heart that she realized hadn’t been there for a long time. Eventually, after everyone was situated and conversations were in full swing, FRIDAY announced Tony and Pepper had arrived, and were nearing the common floor. A moment later, the doors to the elevator slid open once again, revealing a bickering couple.
“I’m just saying! BARF is a perfectly fine name! Beck is just being an asshole.” Tony’s exasperated voice was the first thing they all heard from the elevator, followed quickly by the voice of Pepper Potts.
“You’ve been saying that since I got into the car , Tony. And Quentin is not being an asshole. He is understandably upset that you tried to name his life’s work “BARF”. You, on the other hand, are being stubborn.”
“ Quentin?! ” Tony exclaimed. “Since when is he Quentin? ”
Payton watched as the CEO of Stark Industries lightly shoved Iron Man to the side. “Since you had me take your place at the MIT speech and I actually got to know him.”
“He’s deranged Pep!”
“Tony!” She scolded. “I get you and him don’t get along, but don’t think I’d forgotten about the fact that you tried to sign your name on the patent for his invention!”
Tony’s face twisted. “I didn’t ! That patent was for BARF! The therapeutic system that uses Beck’s holographic displays. The actual tech wasn’t in it… Was it?” The billionaire suddenly seemed unsure.
Pepper’s arms crossed. “It was , and Beck wasn’t happy about the fact that you nearly stole his life’s work out from under him. How’d you feel if someone developed a program to turn Iron Man suits into dancing animatronics at Chuck-E-Cheese, and tried to include the blueprints to the armor itself in the patent?”
The arguing pair was already in the kitchen grabbing food… and completely oblivious to the crowd watching their heated discussion.
“Fine, fine. You have a point. I’ll tell Beck that he’s good to rename the system if he wants. I get the final say though.”
“ No, Tony. I already told him he could, and that I have the final say. I even let him introduce the tech at the speech instead of me. He was grateful for that.”
Finally, Yelena cleared her throat, getting the attention of the two, whose heads quickly snapped over as they realized they weren’t alone.
“Friday, baby, why didn’t you tell us everyone was here?” Tony demanded.
“I did Boss. Five times.” The AI deadpanned, causing laughter to ripple around the table, which Payton couldn’t help but join in on.
Pepper looked somewhat embarrassed, but Tony just shrugged it off, seemingly letting any ill effects of the social faux-pas wash over him. Pepper’s embarrassment faded quickly when her eyes fell on Payton though, softening from the last bits of frustration she had with her boyfriend.
“Sorry about that. I am so glad to see you safe, Payton.”
She smiled softly. “Thanks, Miss Potts. I’m… glad to be here.”
“Please sweetie, it's Pepper.”
Payton nodded in understanding, flushing slightly as she realized she slid back into formal addresses, despite telling herself she’d get accustomed to their names.
As everyone was finally gathered around, breakfast began in earnest, conversations flowing freely between the gathered people. Steve and Tony got lost in a conversation about updates they’d gotten from Lagos (which Payton did not learn by using her hearing to listen in, no sir-ee). Clint, Yelena, and Natasha were all sharing embarrassing stories about each other while May, Wanda, Pepper, and herself all managed to huddle on one side of the table. Her Aunt seemed to get inspiration from the trio of spies, and started telling stories about Payton’s more embarrassing moments, to which Wanda came to her defense by switching focus to her brother instead. Pepper, thoroughly calmed down from whatever she was arguing with Tony about, cycled between laughing at their stories, and trying to subtly ask Payton questions that she guessed were meant to see how she was doing.
The fact that a woman such as Pepper Potts cared to ask was nice, but Payton had to admit she was getting frustrated. Everyone was treating her like she was made of glass, which she had honestly expected. What was frustrating was the fact that, occasionally, she was starting to feel that way about herself. She’d never had such poor control over her emotions, even before the Red Room. But now? Now she found herself constantly fluctuating between joy, guilt, frustration, and a whole list of feelings that she couldn’t explain or understand.
Surrounded as she was by the Avengers, Payton realized, perhaps for truly the first time since Uncle Ben was murdered by Taskmaster, that her old normal was gone forever. She found herself lost in this new world, sinking in the waves as everyone floated peacefully above the storm. She was Payton Parker, she knew that. But she was also a Black Widow, a superhuman, and the daughter of Tony Stark. How could any of that mesh together? Payton couldn’t just excise any one part of her, even if she got the feeling that everyone around her wanted to erase one very specific part of who she was now. But she didn’t think that what Dreykov had done would ever go away. She’d already learned that what Skip had done would never truly leave her, so what was another scar?
But she was afraid. She’d already told Natasha that she didn’t feel like the same girl that May remembered, and while the spy tried to comfort her, the fear didn’t fade. What if May came to realize that Payton was truly different now and didn’t want her anymore? What if Tony realized that she wasn’t what he was expecting and took back his words from the night before? What if Dreykov was right, and the only place that would feel like home that she’d have in this world now was the one he forced her into? Nausea crawled up her throat at the fact that in her anxiety she’d thought of the Red Room as home. Shaking her head, and furiously trying to blink away tears that she now worked to hide from the table, Payton found herself asking one simple question.
What happens now?