Chapter 9
Celia pressed her apartment door closed behind her, leaning wearily against it. Her travel from Stark Tower to her place in Melrose, in South Bronx, was almost torture. She loathed getting on the subway to get home after her day, trapping herself in another metal box. Most days she could tune everyone else on the train out, listening to music or just thinking about her day. Today, she was paranoid, watching everyone she could with a suspicious eye, not willing to let her guard down for a second. The exhaust fumes she encountered when she made it back above ground were comforting, signalling she was back on her home turf, no matter how run down it was. Celia closed her eyes, running a hand over her face.
“You’re back early!” a voice chirped nervously from the doorway leading to the kitchen. Her temporary roommate Kathy was standing there, wringing her hands and shifting her weight. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Celia answered, pushing herself away from the door. “Just some scheduling issues. I might have a few days off, but I’m not sure yet.” Kathy bit her lip, still looking unsure about Celia’s explanation. Celia made an effort to perk herself up, wanting to ease Kathy’s worries so she would drop the subject. There was no way she was telling her about anything that happened today. Kathy was still too vulnerable and fragile and any extra stress would cause a major setback in her progress. Celia gently patted her on the shoulder as she passed, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it from the tap.
“Where’d you get the shirt?” Kathy blurted out, covering her mouth after she asked the question. Celia smiled calmly and eased Kathy’s hands back down, cupping them in her own.
“What did we say about asking questions?” Celia prompted, softly rubbing Kathy’s hands to help her relax.
“I’m allowed to ask questions. I don’t need permission to speak,” Kathy recited, blowing out a quiet breath. Celia nodded encouragingly, happy to see her friend regulating her emotions. Kathy had only been staying with her for about a week now, but she was making great progress so far.
“My first client accidentally spilled a drink on me and insisted I take this extra shirt they had,” Celia explained, walking back to the sink and finishing her glass of water. “Did you have lunch already? I was thinking about making a quick sandwich, if you’d like one too?”
“No thank you, I already ate,” Kathy said, sitting down at the little kitchen table. Celia stifled a groan, wishing she could have a moment alone to feel her feelings. Her one bedroom apartment was already cramped, but it felt downright suffocating after this morning. She wished she still had a private room she could go to, not have to worry about being the stable one and be left to work through her emotions how she wanted, without an audience. Now all she had was the bathroom.
Celia grabbed the loaf of bread and container of lunch meat from the fridge, slapping two slices of meat onto the bread, not worrying about anything else. Kathy hid a quiet chuckle, eyeing her hastily made lunch. Celia shrugged, taking a big bite of the sandwich. It tasted good, but the second she swallowed, it felt like a giant rock landed in her stomach. She turned quickly to refill her water glass and hide her face from Kathy. The food was not settling in her empty stomach, the stress of the day feeling like it was churning in her gut. She took a couple small sips, hoping to quell the feelings of nausea. It helped a little, making her less worried that she would empty her insides into the sink. She turned back around, leaning against the counter to face Kathy. Maybe actively putting on her game face would distract her from the cramping in her stomach.
“How has your day been?” Celia asked, hoping to get Kathy talking to keep her mind off of other things.
“It’s been okay so far,” Kathy said timidly, twisting on the frayed edges of a towel laying on the table. “After you figured out the sink issue this morning, I was inspired to start cleaning. I even took a load of clothes down to the laundry room.”
“That’s great,” Celia said, genuinely happy to hear about this new development. Kathy hadn’t left the apartment on her own since she got there, wary of every face she saw. Celia casually wrapped up the rest of her sandwich, putting it in the fridge for later. She didn’t want to risk another bite, not wanting to deal with its reappearance. “Maybe you want to come with me to the store the next time I get groceries? No pressure though.”
“Are you feeling okay? You barely ate,” Kathy said, glancing between her and the fridge.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. My client with the juice was having an office thing and let me help myself to some of the food. I didn’t realize how full I was until I started on the sandwich,” Celia brushed off, glad that she could come up with a plausible story so quickly. She didn’t like lying to her new friend, but she would not be able to handle the truth.
“I think I’m gonna go take a quick shower. I feel like there might still be some sticky juice on my skin,” Celia said, stretching her arms above her head and gesturing toward the bathroom. Kathy nodded and Celia turned to leave, breathing a sigh of relief as soon as she was out of earshot. She just needed ten minutes to herself. Ten minutes to freak out, cry, plan, whatever she needed to do to figure out her next moves. Celia walked over to her dresser in the living room, grabbing a change of clothes and sealing herself into the bathroom. She stepped in front of the mirror, giving herself a thorough once over for the first time since this happened. Celia had had a short minute alone in the bathroom earlier, when Steve had gone to look for clothes, but she had been focused on cleaning the blood off of her body.
She looked… normal. Celia looked better than normal actually. Her skin was bright and smooth. The small bruise she had gotten along her hairline that morning while she was fixing the sink was gone. She quickly ripped off all of her clothes, checking over her body. Her most obvious scar she had on her stomach was gone, which she had noticed earlier. Every other scar she could remember: the stitches on her knee from when she was a kid, the cat scratches on her ankle, the chicken pox scar on her neck, all gone. Even the razor knick she had from shaving her legs this morning had disappeared. Her body was a blank slate, not an imperfection in sight. She numbly started the shower, absentmindedly rubbing her stomach where her scar used to be. Is this what had happened to Steve, after he got the serum injection? The history books glossed over the experiments and she hadn’t cared enough to do her own research.
Celia climbed into the shower, sitting in the narrow tub with her back to the water. She tried some of the breathing exercises she taught Kathy, trying to center herself. Her breaths were coming out a little ragged and she covered her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds so they wouldn’t travel through the thin walls. She was okay, she kept trying to tell herself in her mind. This was probably a one time thing, the serum would work its way out of her blood like a virus. The cut was still there on her upper arm, looking typical as ever. She tried to convince herself that it would still be there the next day, and the day after that, and she could tell Bruce that their tests were a waste of time, she was a normal girl. She set a timer in her mind for five minutes. Celia had five minutes to cry, feel angry, feel sorry for herself, and everything in between. After that, she would pick herself back up and deal. This was not going to defeat her, she had been through too much in her life to let anything hold her back. She made it through her five minutes, standing herself back up and scrubbing her body, still mindful of the cut on her arm. Celia dried off, dressing in her own white tank top and lounge shorts, giving herself permission to take the rest of the day for herself. She checked her face in the mirror, making sure Kathy wouldn’t be able to tell she had cried in the shower. Steeling herself back up, she left the bathroom, ready to face the rest of her day head on.
The day passed by quickly, watching TV with Kathy and just hanging around the apartment. She didn’t do it often, always finding something to keep herself busy with. But everyone deserved a break every now and then. Kathy excused herself to bed around 9pm, leaving Celia alone in the living room. She sank down into the couch cushions, finally able to relax without putting on a show. It wasn’t that she didn’t like having Kathy around, she was just still in that really vulnerable place and her emotions could switch in a second. Celia didn’t want to cause Kathy anymore distress right now. Celia quickly spread out her bedroll, ready to go to sleep and start a new day. She laid down on her right side, not wanting to disturb the scab on her arm. It still looked normal and she was almost sure that it would stay that way. She closed her eyes and let the exhaustion of the day pull her under into sleep.
Celia was jolted from her slumber, looking around wildly at what might have caused the sudden awakening. Everything looked the same and the clock showed only a few minutes had passed. She laid her head back down, brushing it off as a mini nightmare. An intense burning in her arm made her sit up, reaching over to flip on the lamp on the table next to her. Her arm ached around her cut, hurting worse than the initial slice that put it there. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her heart race and breaths become shallow. What was happening? The achy, burning feeling eased to a slight itch, then disappeared altogether. Celia leaned her head back on the couch, feeling her adrenaline spike. She psyched herself up, mentally preparing herself to look down at her arm. She knew what she would find, but she had to confirm it. Celia lifted her arm slowly, bringing it into her line of vision. The cut was gone. She ran a finger over the spot it used to be, feeling nothing out of the ordinary.
Celia choked on her breath, biting her lip and putting her head between her legs. She could not have a panic attack right now. She needed to calm the fuck down and think. Celia stayed that way for a few minutes, forcing herself to relax. At least she wasn’t in that unknowing limbo place anymore. She had an answer, not really one she wanted, but an answer nonetheless. She grabbed her bag from beside the door, knowing the next move she had to make. Celia dug around in her bag, searching for her cell phone. None of the Avengers had given her their phone numbers, but the tower had to have some sort of googleable number for her to try. It was only 9:30pm, there had to be someone awake still. Bruce seemed like the type that wouldn’t mind being woken up for something like this. Her elusive cell phone was not being cooperative, hiding itself amongst the chaos of her bag. She dumped out the contents on the table under the lamp, not caring about the mess at the moment. Celia sifted through her work supplies and random trash she shoved in there during her busier moments, cursing her disorganization. She shook out a pouch of athletic wrap, hearing a quiet metal clatter hit the floor. It was too quiet to be her cell phone, but she stooped down to pick up whatever it was. It was a small black square, around the size of her fingertip. She examined the square in her hand, trying to figure out where it came from. It didn’t look like it had broken off of anything, with its smooth edges. She felt tiny indents in the corner, and she held it under the light to get a closer look. Two tiny letters were imprinted into the surface.
SI
Celia’s hand began to tremble with anger, the little square bouncing on top of her palm. The nerve of that man. How dare he put some sort of tracker in her bag! It was bad enough that he had snooped into her past, but this was taking it too far. He had no right to infringe on her privacy like this. She swept her arm over the pile of stuff, knocking it back into her bag. She paced the room a little, anger killing thoughts of fear she had about her situation. Now she was just pissed. Celia stormed over to the kitchen, snatching a notepad from a drawer and writing Kathy a note, letting her know there was a work emergency and she’d be home later. Kathy would freak out if she was randomly gone in the middle of the night with no explanation and she definitely didn’t need to deal with that tonight. She stalked out of her apartment, not even bothering to change before heading toward Stark Tower. She would not let this stand.