[2020 Watty Award Winner!]
[BOOK 1 OF THE HAVOC SERIES]
❝you may be the best web-slinger
around, but you're terrible
at keeping secrets.❞
in which even though peter has a new,
high-tech suit, it doesn't stop a girl with
common sense from discove...
┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐ chapter six HEROES └────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘
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───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
THE CAR IS PAINSTAKINGLY silenteven though Steve had turned on the radio in an effort to prevent the ride from being too torturous. A classical music station is playing soft violins. Lena is grateful for it— the absence of words makes it easier for her brain to begin processing everything that has just happened.
She stares out the window without seeing the scenery pass. Her eyes are unfocused, the world a blur of color from this perspective. She can't stop the images from invading her mind: Tony's ashen complexion, Pepper's face wrenching in pain, the way Steve had tried to reel his emotions in enough that she and Peter wouldn't see him break as they'd climbed into the car back at the safe house.
It had been a somber walk for the two miles down the road they'd traveled to reach the nondescript building that Tony had offered to send her to mere minutes before his demise. The inside of it had managed to give her a tiny sliver of hope— that, no matter who had created this place, they'd done it in the event of the Avengers Compound being destroyed. This isn't the end of them. From those scraps, it's still possible for them to rebuild.
Bucky sits in the front passenger seat. He hasn't spoken either, eyes blank in an almost eerie way as he listens to the music pouring gently from the speakers.
They're all still disheveled from battle. Lena, herself, is still in her Havoc suit. The realization of this settles deep into her bones. She has no idea where her backpack is. She'd left it in the quinjet upon arrival in Wakanda, but that was five years ago. She could ask Steve, but she doesn't trust her voice to work in her favor right now, nor does she want to disturb the quiet. This means she has no change of clothes. Sneaking in through her window is out of the question. She has to face her parents like this— as who she really is.
Lena tears her gaze from the window and blinks a few times to clear her vision. They're in the city now, the streets slowly becoming familiar. She feels her shoulders tense in apprehension. Seeing her parents again is exciting, but revealing her biggest secret to them... is not.
Glancing to her left, she notices Peter staring at his folded hands in his lap. He's still in his suit as well, but with the mask off so she can see his tear-streaked face. Her own cheeks are stiff from the dried salt on them from both sweating and crying. Technically, she hasn't showered in five years. Hopefully she'll be able to find some products that aren't expired. She feels like she needs to scrub off several layers of skin, like maybe if she could rub hard enough, she could rid herself of the memory of this day.
Carefully as not to startle him, Lena slides her hand across the space between them and opens her palm out to Peter. He glances away from his own lap to stare at her offering for a few seconds. After a moment's consideration, he slips his fingers between hers and lets their clasped hands rest on the cold leather seat in the middle of the back row. The material may be chilly but their hands are warm. That's all that matters— the confirmation that Peter is alive, and they'll get through this together, because that's what they always do.
