Burning Bright: An Avengers Fanfiction

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After telling Fury about me agreeing to live in Stark Tower (which made the Director look more than smug) Tony raced off, yelling back at Steve, Bruce, and I that he needed to tell someone named Pepper the news, and also needed to get back to the tower and situate where I would stay. After Tony ran out of the room like an excited kid, I looked up at Bruce, getting more and more confused.

"Pepper is Tony's wife," Bruce clarified.

I was a little shocked. Tony Stark, the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, married? Whoever this woman was, I had to give her serious props. I had only met him a couple hours ago, and already Tony was wearing me out a little.

"Do you think I can get the stuff that S.H.E.I.L.D took from me?" I asked Bruce. When I had ran out of the small town, I had a backpack strapped to me, which mysteriously had disappeared when I woke up. Bruce looked at Steve, who shrugged his shoulders.

"I can ask Agent Hill," he said. We set off for the control room. When we reached the room, Bruce went over to talk to Hill, while me and Steve stayed back, talking about nothing in particular.

I noticed a agent at one of the monitor's had tissues stuffed up his nostrils, evidence of a bloody nose. My blood went cold. It was the agent who had tackled me to the ground. He turned his head towards me and Steve, glaring at me hatefully. I tried to keep my breathing under control. I was not going to have a nervous breakdown in front of all of these people.

I felt someone grab my hand. I almost yanked my hand away, but then noticed it was Steve. He gave me a reassuring squeeze. I calmed down a little, knowing that the man couldn't do anything with Cap here. I usually didn't like contact of any sort. I had learned to fear any kind of human touch, thanks to my parents. But Steve made me feel stronger, not scared. I gave him a grateful look before heading over to Bruce, who seemed to have come with up an agreement with Agent Hill.

"This way please," said the brunette. She took us into a small room that was adjoined the control room. She rooted around in a box for a little while, until she took out my backpack, which was in one of those crime scene evidence plastic bags.

"Since forensics hasn't had a chance to look over your bag, I'm afraid I'll have to search it. Protocol," Agent Hill said. I was wary to let her go through literally everything I owned, but I didn't want to cause trouble, so I complied.

She unzipped my bag, and took out the contents. My only change of clothes, which were some very grungy shorts and a baggy t shirt, were the first to come out. She shook them out, looking for anything hidden in them. Next came a Swiss Army knife that I had found, which was immediately confiscated. I saw the reason in that one, and made no argument. A few cans of soup, a half empty bottle of water, and a pack of Band Aids came next. I had to restrain myself from leaping across the table and ripping the thing that was dearest to my heart out of the woman's hand when she took it out of the pack. It was a photo, a very important photo.

"I really would appreciate you giving that to me," I said with gritted teeth. The photo was the only thing in my pack that I really wanted. Everything else could go in the trash for all I cared. But that photo was one of the only things that kept me going when I was having a bad day. I owed it to him.

"Who is the man in the picture?" Hill asked, ignoring my outstretched hand. It was me when I was three years old at the park. I was on the swings, my red hair blowing behind me with a huge smile plastered on my face. A young guy with short black hair and a light scruffy beard was pushing me, his grin matching mine. Just looking at it, tears began to well up in my eyes. What was with me and crying today?! I snatched the photo out of her hand and shoved it into my jean pocket.

"It's my uncle," was all I gave as a reply. "This is all I really wanted anyway, you can get rid of everything else," I said. Steve was the first to snap out of it.