Chapter 30

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"After all this time..." Steve muttered. I looked down, staring at the ground and unable to meet their eyes.

"I know wh-what you're going to say--" I started, but before I could properly explain myself, he wrapped me into a tight hug.

"We thought you were dead," he breathed into my ear. I stood stock-still, my mind unable to process what was happening.

"...D-dead?" I croaked.

"After you disappeared, no one could...we feared the worst," he said, pulling back. "Why did you leave?" there is was--the question I was dreading. But I knew I had to face it.

"I couldn't look any of you in the eyes, not after everything..." I muttered, trailing off.

"You really think we would care?" Sam exclaimed, shifting his weight. I shied away, wrapping my arms around myself as I stared at the ground.

"Everyone else c-c-cared. My classmates certainly cared," I said weakly.

"Well, do we look like your classmates?" Rue asked, slumping back in her seat with a smirk.

"I don't know, I can't remember," I tried to take a step, but I lost my balance and stumbled slightly, catching a shelf and feeling the wood bend under my grip. Ever since the airport battle, I had...I had more trouble.

I had balancing issues, my hand-eye coordination sometimes didn't work, I found it harder to organize my thoughts, I couldn't concentrate, my memory wasn't as good as it used to be, I stuttered more, I struggled with organizing things, and my behavior changed. I was riskier, I forget my strength, I have outbursts more often, and I felt almost every negative emotion under the sun.

"My--my--my--" I spun my fingers in a circle, trying to find the word I was looking for. "Memory! It-it doesn't work as well as it could before," I admitted.

"Before what?" Fury asked. The tall dark woman looked pained like she had seen the same thing happen to a loved one. I don't know her name, she was a...a...a contact! A contact for Romanoff. In S.W.O.R.D. No, S.H.I.E.L.D. S.H.I.E.L.D.

"The--the battle. At the airport. I hit my head hard. TBI," I explained.

"Tanya. You need to calm down," Steve said gently, holding out a hand gently. I suddenly realized I had broken the shelf off, and it was crunching under my grip.

"What's with all the commotion? Did Rogers slip or something?" I froze. I knew that voice.

Didn't I?

I turned around slowly, looking for the speaker. My eyes settled on a man in a wheelchair with overgrown salt and pepper scruff.

"Tanya?" he asked quietly.

"Dad?"

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