I Can't Be Helped

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Marlena paced around the room. There were a good number of others currently running around her inside the apartment, but she couldn't seem to pay them any mind. She was far more concerned with Charlie and making sure she was okay. She had no idea what was going on with her daughter, only that whatever happened had been horrible. She remembered hearing the loud sirens from the Tower. She remembered Bucky's phone call and just how vague he'd been in his explanation. She remembered his explicit instructions—given to him by some of New York's finest—to return home and wait, and so that was where she was. Steve had obviously returned home with her, as had Sam, Mason, and James. Alena was present as well, despite numerous protests from the men in the group. Marlena needed her around, however. She needed to know why whatever happened left her in such a pained state, and why the pain was enough to completely eradicate the effect of the suppressors on her body.

"You're creating a draft, Marlena."

Marlena simply rolled her eyes at Sam's remark and continued her trek back and forth through the living room.

"Maybe you should sit down," Steve suggested.

"Pacing helps pass the time," Marlena replied.

"You know what else it does?" Mason spoke up this time. "It wears the carpet down, and you're especially gonna speed up the process if you don't take your shoes off. C'mon, Mar, I though mom taught you better than that."

Marlena shook her head and stopped pacing long enough to look at her younger brother. "How can you make jokes right now?"

"You're a pregnant telepath who feels emotions deeper than anyone else I've ever met," Mason answered her. "Believe me, I'm stressed to no end worrying about whatever happened to Charlie, but I'd kinda like to do my part to make sure you don't bring the building down by channeling positivity in your direction rather than a certain negativity that could get us all killed."

Marlena groaned and sat down on the couch in between Steve and Mason. She was becoming impatient. It'd been almost two hours since they'd been home. All Marlena wanted was to see her daughter. All she wanted was to know what had happened to her daughter. Bucky stopped answering his phone an hour ago and the suspense was slowly killing her.

Just then, Alena stepped into the living room. She'd just finished a much needed shower and was dressed head-to-toe in Marlena's clothes, with her permission, of course. She was still recovering from the incident that left her with a debilitating headache. It not only confused the small group who'd witnessed it, but it confused Alena herself. It was only after her mind had semi-cleared she was able to figure out what happened, and she knew Marlena wanted to know as well. It was the only reason she'd allowed her out of the Tower.

"And here I thought you'd given us the slip," Sam remarked from his spot in Steve's recliner.

"And why exactly would I do that?" Alena questioned Sam as she slowly made her way to sit down on the loveseat beside her father.

"Maybe because you're a manipulative, psycho bitch, I don't know?" Mason spoke up, eliciting a sigh from his father. He definitely understood the tension between his children, but he couldn't deny that he absolutely despised it.

"I've been called much worse," Alena responded with a sarcastic smile on her face. It disappeared just as quickly as it came, however, leaving a rather serious expression on her face. "And don't forget Charlie's my niece just as much as she's yours. I'd like to know what the hell is going on the same as all of you."

"Well, how do we know you aren't what happened to her?" Mason asked, skepticism in his tone. "Your timing with Marlena back at the Tower was nothing short of impeccable."

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