Chapter Seventeen - Another Confrontation

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Slowly, Clara turned to face Nick Fury, a shaking hand holding out the flip phone. She kept her eyes down, staring at the floor as the man walked over. She looked down to the shoes on her feet, tracing her view over the patterns of dirt coating them. Fury didn't say anything to her, he just took the device. He hadn't even necessarily been gentle; he was just no harsher than usual.

Clara felt her knees trembling and she forced her legs to carry her back to the bed. Even after her mother's reassurance, Clara felt the weight of the world crashing down on her, pulling her to her knees as if to remind her that she had no control - No control over her own life nor others'. Peter lunged forwards, catching the girl as her knees finally gave out and she broke into a fresh wave of weeping.

"It's okay." Peter said softly, lifting her back to her feet. In that moment, Clara craved human contact, someone to hold her and just let her wallow in her misery. She wrapped her arms around the boy's neck, burying her face into his shoulder and tears seeped into the black material that covered him.

Peter froze, eyes wide and arms just lingering in the air, unsure of what to do with them. He looked around the room for help, Dimitri watching them with a blank expression and Hill holding her palms up as if to say, 'don't look at me, she's your problem now'.

He felt her body trembling against him, the sobs racking her form. Swallowing nervous, he set his hands on her back, pulling her further into him. Peter snaked one hand around her waist, the other hand between her shoulder blades. "You're okay." He repeated.

It's not okay, Clara thought, I'm not okay, can't you see that? She knew to say it aloud wasn't fair on Peter, she knew he was only trying to comfort her. But he didn't understand how her life as she knew it had completely fallen apart in that moment.

Some may say she was overreacting in that underground control centre – they may wonder what's wrong with her; everything she wanted as a child was inevitably going to come to pass, why was she complaining? Those people wouldn't understand what it was like to have an uncertain future baring down on you, one that had seemed so improbable now erasing her chances of a normal life.

Any hope she had for staying in the same place, having a home, holding onto friends for more than a few months at a time had disintegrated. Fury would refuse to keep her identity a secret, or one of those in the room with her would sell the information to an agency. Clara would be forced into S.H.I.E.LD. and made to fight their battles around the globe.

The whole idea of it had seemed so simple, so easy and undaunting before it had become an eerie reality. Something she had wished would come to pass finally did and all she wanted was to be able to go back and change what had happened last night. No, she told herself, I saved Peter Parker – I saved Spider-Man. If I hadn't, then who would've?

She could smell a smoky scent burnt into Peter's new suit, like a bonfire on camping trip. She focused in on it, imaging the sweet taste of toasted marshmallows in chocolate s'mores to try and distract herself. Clara sniffed, her breathing back under control, but her head now pounding from the crying.

She pushed herself off of Peter, easing out from his arms. He looked down as she wiggled from his grip, loosening it instantly when he realised just how tightly he had been holding her. "I..." She started unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry." Clara started, still avoiding looking in his eyes.

"Clara, you have nothing to apologise for." Peter said, lifting both hands to rest the either side of her face, wiping away the streaks of tears. When she looked up at him, he pulled his hands away, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks.

"I lied to you."

"No, technically you just withheld the full truth." He grinned, the kindness behind his eyes not going unnoticed by Clara. When she didn't say anything, he saw her looking down her hands again. He reached towards them, holding them palm-up, his thumbs holding the hands open. "What is it?" He asked, referring to the endless glow he hadn't seen happen before.

Clara shrugged, the sound of the room coming back into focus now. She could hear typing on keyboards, small conversations between the underground crew, and Nick Fury talking over the phone to her mother. "Something to do with radio frequencies, too many mess up my... er, my own frequencies, I guess."

"Oh." Peter said simply, watching the colour dance over the skin. "Can you feel it?"

Clara nodded, the action barely visible and she sniffed again. "It feels like... I don't know." She stopped herself with a sigh.

"Like what?" He pressed, watching her expression intently. The redness of her eyes was already beginning to lessen, her tears no longer falling; the conversation giving her a distraction. His own hands felt the strange sensation, he didn't know how to describe it either, but what he felt was only on the outside.

"Like home." She described, slightly embarrassed by her way with words. "It's warm, kind of comforting, I guess. Like when you're walking in the snow and you're holding a hot chocolate to keep the cold from your fingers."

"Is that what it feels like when you turn invisible?" He pressed, keeping the distraction in place.

She shook her head, her actions more discernible now. "That's different. That's like a stillness." Peter's brow furrowed, the boy still looking into the girl's eyes as she watched the currents in the purple energy. "It's like, when nobody can see me, everything is calm; everything is still, and I can make sense of it all. I can make sense of everything I see. It's like time slows, but it doesn't, everything carries on how it always has."

"And you know that you're safe." Peter added for her, his own feelings coming forward. "When I'm Spider-Man, I feel free to... be myself, I guess. I know nobody can see that it's me; I can say and do anything, then go back to my everyday life with only a few people knowing."

Clara lifted her head, looking from the hands holding hers, to Peter. He understood. They looked into each other's gazes, seeing the world through the other eyes and seeing what they had always seen through their own. "Wilson." Fury said loudly, Clara tugging her hands from Peter's to stand to attention. "I think you and I need to have a little conversation."

~

They stood around the centre table, a three-dimensional projection filling their view. The group - Clara, Peter, Nick, and Maria - had all stood through a 'brief' hour-long synopsis of what they knew. Updating Clara on everything Peter had been told with any new intel added to the presentation. "I don't understand, what does this mean for me?" Clara frowned.

"It means, you'll be working alongside me." Fury explained. "Not full-time, just when needed. Same as Parker." He nodded towards the boy who stood a little taller at the sound of his name.

"Can I say no?" She asked, looking over to Peter who let out a snort of laughter, his mind flashing back to the change in the school trip and the bus that took them to Prague.

"Thankfully, Beck destroyed the Elementals, they're no longer a threat to us; but they're not the last threat we'll ever face." Fury continued, ignoring her question. "You've got gifts, Wilson, but you need to know how to use them."

Clara scowled. Sure, she hadn't undergone any traditional training from S.H.I.E.L.D., but her parents had made sure she knew what she was doing in a fight. "Last night was different-" She started, Fury interrupting her as he raised a hand, palm-out.

"If you think you can handle it, I'm happy to provide you with the same training your parents received." He offered. "More... personalised, though."

Her eyes widened a fraction, and she looked between the man and Peter who stood to the left of her. "Are you kidding?"

"I don't kid." Fury said plainly. "Maria and I are headed to Europol headquarters in Berlin tomorrow morning, you and Peter are both getting the same invitation."

"Wait, what?" Peter said, spinning to face the man.

"You didn't want to be in the fight last night, Parker. I'd love to have you in Berlin, too. But you're gonna have to decide whether you're gonna step up or not." He told him; his tone similar to that of a teacher chastising a child in detention. "Stark chose you. He made you an Avenger. I need that. The world needs that. Maybe Stark was wrong."

Clara looked over to see the boys eyes brimming with tears from the older man's words and Peter blinked furiously to keep any from spilling. "Was he?" Fury pressed. "The choice is yours."

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