photographs and possible pseudonyms

"Come on, kid, give me a break."

Barton Homestead - January 9th, 2016

Christa didn't want to fall asleep.

Her body ached, told her to fall into that oblivion, but she refused. Instead, she watched Clint and Lila, lying nearly comatose in their beds, for hours, hours she should be sleeping for.

Eventually, a jet filled with more people from the Avengers Facility came. To take her home, they said. The jet had landed outside of the Barton home, a jet she was pulled onto with Stark and the entire Barton family (Clint and Lila, supposedly at stable conditions, in a medical compartment). They'd be going to the Facility, for special care for Clint and Lila, and for the rest of the Bartons, Christa, and Stark to stay in until until it was no longer necessary that Clint and Lila be treated there. Stark had his own home in Malibu he and Christa would head off to eventually, one that she was not looking forward to staying.

The sky, scattered with stars and yet so dark, was so pressing on the girl. It felt surreal, like it shouldn't be so late, and yet Christa's day had been so, so long so it made sense in the weirdest of ways.

Ignoring Tony Stark was the only way Christa could stay sane over the course of the multi-hour trip--for which she couldn't find it in herself to fall asleep. She sat as far away from Stark as she could, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. When she did end up having to look his way for whatever reason, the hate she was expecting was always just... sadness. Regret, maybe. Or a smooth, emotionless face, typical of the man who tried to seem so cool on the outside.

The ride was silent. All Christa was able to do due to the airplane mode necessary for her phone was stare out at the moon sitting, phantom-like, in the sky.

| | |

Her new home was big--Christa had to give them credit for that.

Her private livings quarters in the section of the Facility designated for living space was like a full-out apartment, actually, with mini kitchen, living room, and the biggest bedroom she'd ever stepped foot in. Did all of the Avengers live like this? All of the Avengers lived here, correct?

That would be something to get used to.

"Do you like it?" Pepper Potts had been the one to show Christa to her living quarters, guiding her from the jet, which had arrived just minutes ago, through one of the huge, metallic buildings of the Avengers Facility.

Christa had exited her bedroom after looking around there (king-sized bed, mini fridge, a closet she was pretty sure held the actual entrance to Narnia in it--screw wardrobes--etc.) and was now coming back to the main part of the living space. Pepper was still standing at the door to the main living space, arms folded across her chest.

It took a moment for Christa to respond.

"What's not to like? I've got a bed the size of a car, a whole kitchen, and a dad I don't like. What's not to love?"

Pepper tilted her head to the side as Christa came closer to her. "Just give him a chance. He hasn't had to deal with this sort of thing before."

"Yeah, because he never bothered to ask. Now please exit the room. People are really annoying me today for some reason." Sarcasm was dripping from her words at the last sentence.

Pepper looked at her for a moment, face filled with an expression not unlike that on Christa's mother's face when she would ignore her. But she said nothing and merely stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Finally--silence.

She walked into her bedroom and pulled herself onto the bed. Oh, it was so soft... and she, having been awake for what might have been a total of thirty-six hours, was so tired...

She found herself falling asleep....

Waking up was strange. How long had she been asleep for? The light outside didn't seem that different. The clock said it was only nine.

Now, what to do? Energy was suddenly starting to course through her. There was a world of possibilities. Christa could explore the T.V., venture into that country of a closet and try to figure out if there was any non-agent-y clothing in there, she could explore the special high-tech things in this room... the possibilities were endless.

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat.

Was that a picture of her mother over there?

A golden frame, sitting on a cabinet beside her bed, the laughing, smiling face of a person Christa longed for so, so much. The round eyes, less lined in this picture than how she had known her. When had this picture been taken? She looked so young.

How had she not noticed this the first time she entered the room?

"I asked that they'd put that in there. Thought you might like it. Y'know. To look at from time to time. I guess."

Christa whipped around. Tony Stark was standing there behind her in the main living area, the one with the kitchen and living room, hands in his pocket, regular clothes on now instead of that suit. His stance might be taken as casual, but he was looking down at the ground now, and she could tell he was uncertain.

"Now I wonder if that was a bad idea. You know... old memories...." Stark continued, finally looking up at the girl.

Christa opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't. Couldn't.

"Do you mind if I come in? I know you kind of... hate me right now, but... I mean, technically this is kinda my place, so if anything, you should be asking me if you can be in here right now." His uncertain air turned to that of Tony Stark-esque attitude.

"Whatever. And I didn't ask to be here in the first damn place."

"What is it with the potty mouth? Your mother didn't swear this much. I guess it must be my genetics." Stark walked into the room. Still a few feet in front of Christa, but... closer.

"I guess you didn't know my mother that well. Sailors would've wanted to shove a whole boatful of soap in her mouth for all the cussing she did," Christa responded, a heated tone to her voice.

Stark looked off in the distance. In the direction of the photograph.

"I guess I didn't."

Christa began to walk a little closer to the man, arms folded across her chest, head tilted to the side slightly, contemplating him.

"What did you call my mother, anyway? Rowena? Regina? Oh, wait, it was Rubi, that's right," she said with mock awed realization. "Not Esther Amory, the woman I knew and was raised by, the woman I knew for the entire fifteen years of my life she was alive."

Stark gave a sigh and looked to the side before turning back to Christa. "Look, I don't know why she had a different name when I knew her. Not something I was expecting. Not that I was expecting a fifteen-year-old girl to come walking up to me and announce to me that I was her dad, but that's beside the point. But, Christa--" his tone dropped, voice a little gentler, a little less satirical "--we can figure it out. That's actually pretty suspicious."

"No kidding."

"Come on, kid, give me a break." He gave her a look.

"Fine, I'll shut up."

"Thank you. Now, you're pretty computer-savvy, correct?"

Christa just looked at him as he waited for a response.

"You gonna answer me?"

"What, I thought you wanted me to shut up?" she quipped.

Ignoring this, Stark said, "All right, just getting right to the point then. You're gonna help me look into why your mom had two different identities, okay?"

Christa raised her eyebrows a little higher. "Do you really want me to help you? I'm kinda, y'know, a little angry at you at the moment."

Stark paused.

"Pepper," he called, still looking at Christa. "She'd not listening to me."

"That's parenthood, Tony," came the voice of Pepper Potts from beyond the door to Christa's living quarters.

"Damn," Stark whispered under his breath.

"Who has the potty mouth now, Mr. Stark?" Christa smirked at him.

"All right, you don't want to 'bond' today? Don't blame me for that." Stark pointed a finger at Christa as he started backing out of the room and to the front door of the living space. He mumbled a loud "Son of a--" as he tripped on the couch, stumbling slightly and trying to regain his composure.

As he opened the door, Christa could see Pepper through the crack in it, saw her exchange a few words with Stark, saw them both look her way. She gave a little mocking wave, and the door swung shut.

"It's a little hard to bond with the dad you didn't know for fifteen years, Mr. Stark."