Three Months Later

"So," Steve asks in between breaths and the pounding of our feet against the pavement, "I hear you convinced Tony to let you go to school? That's quite a feat. You excited?"

"It's a mix of emotions. On one hand, I'm excited to not be trapped in the facility anymore, but it's also terrifying to have to start from scratch this late in the semester. Plus, if anyone finds out who my dad is—I'm screwed."

Steve slows down earlier than usual for our morning run, and I try to hold back a sigh knowing he's about to go into the same defensive, overprotective mode my dad does when giving life advice. "Look, kid. It's gonna be fine. My advice is to just go in there and be yourself. If it doesn't work out, I'm sure you can show them plenty of reasons why they're wrong."

I let out a laugh and push my sunglasses up on my sweaty face. "Well, either way, I gotta get ready. I still need to shower, and I can't be late on the first day." Steve just smiles and shakes his head as he continues the rest of our routine run without me.

Although, now that I think about it, everything about my previous schedule is going to change. No more morning runs with Cap, training with Natasha and Wanda, lunches with Dad, or meditative debates with Vision. And I realize how much I'm going to miss it.

"You ready, bugs?" Dad asks as he looks up from whatever he's reading on his tablet. "Or would you want to go grab you patrol gear so you can just hit the streets right after school?"

My stomach drops at the accusation—mostly because it's true, and it means he knows. "I—um—I should probably explain. Yes, I've been patrolling as Phantom, but I promise I've been careful. It's just—I've done so much damage these past months, I wanted to know that I did something good—something to help people instead of destroy them.

"Plus, when I'm out there, I feel like–like I can breathe again. You know, for the longest time, I wondered why I was given these gifts, if I was meant to use them or if it was just an accident. But they can be used to help people, and I want to do that. I just—I probably should have talked to you first."

"You're right, you should have." Dad lets out a sigh as he stands. "But, I can't be mad at you for being my stubborn, determined daughter. So we'll talk about this after school. Okay? Just know you're not in too much trouble."

My head snaps up so fast that my glasses nearly fly off, which gives me a painful flash of light. I wince for a second and look at Dad with scrunched eyes. "Really? You're not mad?"

"No, I'm very mad, but I'll learn to get over it if it means you'll be safer and happier with my help. Because I know there's no stopping a Stark–especially when we put our minds to something." He tells me with a soft smile and hands me my bag. "Now, go have a good time at the new school. Just don't mention being a Stark, it's not safe if people know."

"I know, Dad. Don't worry, I'll be fine." I reassure him with a kiss on the cheek. Although, it does nothing to ease my own nerves. They continue to rattle in my chest and make my leg bounce in the front seat of the plain town car Happy's driving me in.

It's terrifying. A new school means people asking questions, a whole new round of awkward conversations before friendship, and so many secrets to keep from everyone. I suppose it's the price I have to pay to have a little bit of normal again.

"Alright, here we are—Midtown School of Science and Technology." Happy states as he parks. "You know the rules, right? Call if you have an attack, no Stark talk, and text updates to your dad every hour."

"Make friends, and don't sass the teachers?" I tease with a soft grin that hopefully hides my nerves. "Don't worry about me, Happy. I promise to call if there's any problems."

Of course, I don't think that not knowing where the office or any of my classes are qualifies as a proper problem. Nevertheless, it's the main issue I face as I walk into school. I don't even bother trying to ask someone for help as I adjust my glasses and frown to warn people and hope they get the message to stay out of my way. Between the noise and the lights, it's already hard for me to focus, which is something I still have to work on.

"ARTI, pull up the school blueprints and calculate a path to my locker and classes based on the information the school sent last week." I whisper and push up my glasses to reduce any risk of stray light. Sure enough, it's only a second before the floor plans for the whole school light up across my lenses, a path traced in bright red through the masses of students, who all stare and whisper at me as I pass by them.

I swear I get bumped more times than I reasonably should—even for a crowded hallway, and I make a point to 'accidentally' trip as many perpetrators as I can.

491. I smile to myself at the small victory of finding my locker and rest my head against it. The chill of the metal feels like a blessing against my forehead. "Excuse me," a voice interrupts my moment of peace and eavesdropping, and I hum an acknowledgment, "are you the new girl, Amelia Bright?" I glance over to find a boy likely my year reading my name off a torn piece of paper.

"It's Lia, actually." I retort as I turn my attention and head to the owner of the voice. "Only my Mum calls me Amelia, and even then that's when she's about to start a row."

The boy lets a small, choked laugh escape him. "My mom does that when she's mad too." He pauses for a second before catching on to his faux pas. "Oh, right, I'm Ned, Ned Leeds." He shifts his books in his arms and extends a fist out to me.

I stare at his hand. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a wave of anxiety rolling over me. My training over summer has made sure that I have enough control to manage no harm to him. It's just fear keeps me from doing it. "It's nice to meet you, Ned Ned Leeds," I tease him and try to pretend he didn't offer his hand as I once again tug at my shirtsleeves. "I'm Lia, but I think you know that. To answer what I assume will be your next question, I'm from Kingston. South London, as most Americans would know it."

"I was wondering where the accent was from." Ned pauses and looks around as if there will be a conversation topic scrawled on the walls or motivational posters plastered everywhere. "Do you mind if I ask why you moved here? And what the glasses are for?"

I mentally stutter in an attempt to figure out how to phrase it without sounding like a lunatic. "My dad lives here," I tell him quietly. "My mum thought it would be nice if we were closer. Plus, it was a great opportunity for my step-dad's career. So they're working on moving out here too. Next answer is the glasses are like most–to help me see. They're just tinted since my eyes can't handle much light, and if there is too much it causes a lot of pain and I can't see anything more than blobs. It's really not fun."

Ned responds with some acknowledgment that slips my notice along with the other things that he chatters and weaves us through the hallways. "Here's your homeroom. And if you need any help throughout the day, just find me around or in one of the classes we share." He smiles brightly and waves goodbye. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lia."

I reply half-heartedly as I adjust my notebooks and slip into the back of the classroom. All the while, I keep wishing that my mates from back home were here with me. Trish and Will always made things seem so much better. But I suppose I'm mostly used to them drawing the attention from myself. If only I could slip into the shadows as I do as Phantom.

Actually, I would much prefer to be Phantom for a multitude of reasons. At least she has the privilege of hiding behind a mask. No one questions her motives, stares at her like a zoo animal, or makes her feel out of place. When I'm Phantom, I'm confident and free. Here, as Lia, I feel like nothing more than a new kid who doesn't know anyone.

It seems to show like a sign plastered across my forehead. As I slip into the room, a couple groups go silent to watch me as I walk past. Likely, they're wondering why there's a new student a month and a half into the semester. The whispers and hushed speculations follow me all the way to my seat in the back.

I keep my head buried as I flip open my notebook and pretend to be occupied so no one will speak to me. It doesn't work as well as I hoped though. A small group from a few seats ahead of me turn with smiles and questions brimming out to them. "Hi," one of the girl states with a too sweet smile that makes me slightly nauseated, "I'm Carter. Are you the new girl?"

"Something like that." I retort with a painful effort to minimize my accent as I turn my attention back to my notebook.

"O-M-G. I love your accent!" She practically squeals along with most of her friends, and my eyes roll so violently I half expect them to pop out of my skull. "So where are you from?"

"Kingston—South London to Americans," I tell her with a forced smile and try to politely end the conversation by focusing on my notebook.

Still, she finds a way to keep talking. "So you're a Captain America fan? I'm guessing from the patch on your bag. That's kind of funny since you're not even American." I try not to sigh at the assumption that because I didn't grow up here I'm not a citizen—which I am—and the failed attempt at a joke. "I'm an Iron Man girl myself." She states with pride.

It takes all my self-control to not cringe or throw up as she continues to fawn and obsess over each Avenger, with a specific emphasis on my dad. I zone out fairly early in, but she doesn't seem to notice.

By the time the bell rings, my head physically hurts, and I practically run before Carter gets the chance to latch on any further. I highly doubt I could form a friend or even acquaintanceship with someone who finds my dad attractive—or sexy as she repeatedly put it.

I get so lost in my quick escape that I barely notice Ned waiting in the hallway until I run into him. "Woah. Everything okay?" He questions as he takes a step back to avoid another collision.

"Yeah, I just spent the last hour with a girl who called me Clara and spent a solid five minutes discussing the 'travesty' of my fashion sense, while pretending to be stupid," I explain and finally let my shoulders relax. "Sorry for running into you by the way. I was in the middle of a quick escape."

"Oh, trust me, I get it. One time Carter and her gang tried to convince me of the 'importance of never wearing stripes,' even though I clearly rock them." He lifts his voice up an octave as he imitates them and before I can think better of it, a genuine laugh escapes me, which leads to a very un-charming snort. I instantly cover my mouth in embarrassment, but Ned only smiles and laughs it off.

A natural silence falls between us as he helps me find my way through the labyrinth of hallways. "Wait—" he questions as we stop outside my next classroom. "—you're in a Senior English class? I thought you were the same grade as me."

"I am, but my credits from my old school weighted differently. So they put me in a couple higher classes and AP to compensate." He nods in understanding, and I take a glance at my printed schedule. "So what classes do we share? I'll admit it's rather boring having no one to talk to."

Ned seems to brighten at the comment and beams as he points to various classes. "Pretty much from here to the end of the day, but not English or French—I'm taking Spanish. Also the end of the day, I have Gym there."

"Oh, I'll see you there too. I'm technically a part of the class, but they weren't sure if I could be so they didn't add it until recently. I'm just restricted from certain activities."

"Why?" It's an innocent question with only curiosity and maybe a sliver of concern behind it. Still, I can't tell him—or anyone—the truth. It would ruin everything, and I'd be right back where I was before and lose my fresh start.

I try to hide the stutter in my response and plaster on a tense, sad smile as I whisper, "It's a long story." Ned nods and waves goodbye as I head into class. A part of me wishes that he knew just how long of a story it really is. I just wish I could say it was nothing more than healed fractures and lingering problems of a car accident, but it would just be another lie.

Still, if anyone did know the truth, they would never look at me the same. But oh, how I wish someone would.

I lost track of everyone I've met about three classes in. It all became a giant haze of names, feigned interest, and forced smiles. There were a few genuine people I met though, the two main ones being Ned and Liz, both of whom bothered to do more than just ask questions and made an effort to actually talk to me. In fact, Liz acted like we had known each other for years after we made it through the basic questions.

It feels kind of nice knowing that I'm not just a 'new girl' to least two people. I can at least tell Dad that I made some progress with making friends.

Although, it made a small predicament at lunch when I couldn't find either of them and was unsure which I was looking for. I try to keep my head from spinning amidst the noise and chaos of the cafeteria. No one pays me any attention as I slip my way between the tables and cliques until I find a place in the corner where no one is going to notice me.

"Lia!" Someone calls out only moments after I sit down. "Why are you eating by yourself? Come on, I saved you a seat." Liz smiles as she picks up my tray and walks away with it.

A small, exhausted sigh escapes me as I push up my glasses and follow her. She stops at a table at the opposite end of the cafeteria, which directly opposes the popular narrative of nearly every film involving high school. "Guys, this is Lia. Be nice." She teases as I take the seat beside her. "Okay, basic facts out of the way, Lia just moved here from England. She's a sophomore, is completely brilliant, and—" She looks to me for confirmation. "—I think that's most of it."

I nod and smile at her initiative to spare me the usual round of questioning. Although, it doesn't make me want to shrink into oblivion any less. The group around the table is a mix of guys and girls, who clearly rule the school. It's the kind of group that we used to laugh about back home. They were the ones that were rarely authentic with each other and people could fade away inside without anyone noticing. All they had to do was trade gossip and pretend to be interested in the next football match.

Now, it seems like the kind of group I could use to my advantage. The one with people who won't push or ask questions about my past. It might mean nothing beyond superficial bonds and fake smiles, but sometimes you need to pretend to be someone else to make it. So I memorize all their names and pretend to be another version of Lia, one who hasn't lived through her worst nightmares and survived, but who never had to face them at all.

Who knows, maybe it's better this way. Maybe I'll just fade away with no one noticing until it's too late.

Except, by the time Chemistry rolls around, I'm starting to question that train of logic. It doesn't help that Chemistry is the subject made me want to drive nails into my hands instead of studying it. Because unfortunately, my love and skill for science seem to have skipped this field in particular. It makes the mere idea of being trapped and forced to study it for an hour everyday nauseating. My only hope is none of my 'new friends' notice me turning green right now.

I rest my forehead on the cold surface of the lab counter. The truth is, it's not just chemistry making me feel ill. This was always a subject that Jim and—and Henry used to help with, before everything of course.

Flashes of that London alley threaten to make an appearance along with lunch, but I force them back down as I feel a tap on my shoulder. The absence of the chilly countertop against my forehead feels like the tug of a blanket off in the morning, and I try to keep my face from showing the annoyance I feel coursing through me at the interruption.

The feeling fades a little bit when I see Ned smiling at me, with concern clearly written in his eyes. "You okay? I didn't see you at lunch."

I manage a nod. "I'm fine—just tired, and I actually ate lunch with Liz and her friends."

Ned's eyes widen at the mention of her. "You had lunch with Liz Allen?"

"Yeah. She's in my Lit class; she's cool." I tell him with a small chuckle as he tries to gain his composure. "You wanna sit?"

He shakes his head and points to a table diagonally from mine. "Nah, I'm already lab partners with my friend, Peter." Then his eyes light up as he gets an idea. "Oh, I totally forgot to introduce you." He looks around the room in search of the boy and quickly calls his name once he spots him coming in.

"What's up, Ned?" The boy questions, absolutely oblivious to my presence here.

"I wanted you to meet the new girl, Lia." He tells his best friend with a knowing smile, and I can't help but feel this is a bit of a setup.

My heart lurches in my chest and stomach drops to the floor when he turns to face me with wide eyes. Large brown eyes tracing over the details of my face, hair fixed back perfectly, and a too big Midtown sweatshirt covering his arms. At first glance, he looks just like Henry. "Oh, um, hi. I'm Parker. I-I mean, I'm Peaker—Peter."

"It's nice to meet you, Peter," I whisper back trying my best to not let my nerves show too much and push down the approaching memories. The attempt fails miserably, and I slip my phone out of my pocket as I practically run out of the room. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

The hallways are nearly empty, and no one pays me any attention as I rush out the front doors and collapse on the front steps with my head on my knees. "ARTI," I whisper through heavy breaths, "send a signal to Dad."

"Yes, Miss Bright." The program replies. "Mr. Stark has been notified."

For once, I actually appreciate Dad's stupid regulations, rules, and safeguards as the tears start to trail down my cheek and my chest tightens. The school's front door closes with a thud, and I furiously wipe my face as I turn to see who it is. Peter stands there nervously, breathing deeply like he ran the whole way after me. "I'm sorry. I just—you looked—are you—are you okay?" He questions as he carefully steps closer to me.

"Not really, but I will be." I sigh and wrap my arms around my stomach forcing my breaths to even out and tears to stop. "I'm sorry if I worried you. It's nothing really."

"Doesn't seem like nothing. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Won't you miss Chem?" I question, looking for any excuse I can find. He just holds up an old battered clipboard with the words 'HALL PASS' messily scrawled across in black sharpie over a multitude of other phrases and doodles. "Why do you care?" The question comes off harsher than I intended, and even I cringe at the sound of it.

"Because, like my Uncle always told me, 'if you have the chance to be a help, do it.'"

"He sounds like a nice guy," I mumble as I slide my phone back into my jumper pocket. "I—I'm—I have panic attacks. Sometimes it's absolutely nothing that sets it off. It's—it's a long story, but—um—you reminded me of someone I knew back home."

Peter shifts uncomfortably at the statement, but he doesn't leave. "Why did that make you upset though? Is he—?"

"No, he's not gone. Not really, at least." I fiddle with the edges of my jumper and think over whether or not this is a good idea to tell an almost stranger this. There's just something about Peter makes it feel safe and natural. Maybe it's just that he looks like Henry, but it feels like something more. "I'd rather not talk about it. Trust me, it's not a fun or pretty story, and I don't enjoy telling it. So, let's just leave at it didn't end well. Henry ended up in the hospital with a concussion and suffered a nervous breakdown. Neither of us have been the same since."

"Wow." Peter sighs and a rough laugh escapes me. "Sorry, I just—that's gotta be tough."

"You learn to live," I tell him. "You have to." An average black sedan tears into the parking lot, and I sigh. "That's my ride." I whisper mournfully as Happy quickly rushes out with worry and concern painted on every inch of his face.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I just—had a small panic attack," I tell him with a tired shrug.

"I'm gonna go let them know I'm taking you home." Happy insists and sidesteps me as he heads inside, likely to speak to the principal with an excuse about my 'condition.'

"Crap," I whisper. Here goes my chance at school and a normal life. I turn to Peter and find he's already looking at—studying me. "Thanks for listening and helping me calm down." I tell him with a smile. He likely helped me avoid another supernova moment.

"Not a problem." He smiles and waits for Happy to return before he leaves. Although, as I'm walking to the car I hear him call my name. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

"I really hope so," I tell him and smile. "See you around, Peaker."

His cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson at the nickname, but I quickly lose sight of it as Happy nudges me into the car. I offer him one last glance and a half-hearted wave. Happy seems to notice based on the look he's giving me, but he still doesn't say anything.

Dad immediately pounces when I walk in the front door with Happy. "What happened? Are you okay?"

I wrap him up in a hug to silence the endless array of questions and mostly because, at this moment, I just need my dad. "I'm okay. I think I was just scared and overreacted." I mumble into his shirt.

Although, I leave out the fact that he overreacted too. A flare in our system is supposed to mean a phone call to check-in, not sending Happy in for a rescue mission. I suppose we've both been on edge though, and I'm far too tired too drained to argue. "Don't worry. A—" my mind stutters when I try to find an adjective for Peter Parker, the boy I only met a few hours ago. "—a friend helped me out."

Tony raises his eyebrows at the word, clearly interested and intrigued. "See? I told you, you'd have no problems making friends. Just remember—"

"—no boys." I finish for him. "Well, boyfriends."

"Exactly, you're too young to be in a relationship." He steps away as he speaks and looks for something as he continues. There's a pause as he states the next phrase. "Not to mention the danger and complications." Aka being a REM and honorary Avenger.

"I know." It comes as a whisper because of the growing lump in my throat. There's no ignoring the truth, I'm a danger to myself and am bound to attract even more. Still, despite the lack of romantic interests and prospects, I wonder. "How do you do it? You and Pepper, I mean. How can you handle living with what's happened and even begin to share that with someone else?"

He gives me a weak smile. "It's been a rough, complicated road, but we manage." He sighs and turns to me with a look I've never seen before. "It helps that she makes me a better person, and a better dad." I return his soft smile as he places his hands on my shoulders. "I know I've made mistakes and haven't been the best at this, but I want to get better.

"Sometimes, you're so independent and willing to put yourself in danger that it terrifies me. I'm scared that I won't always be there to protect you when you need it most. So, I overreact,—kind of like today." I try to bite back the bittersweet smile that threatens to appear at this admission. "You're a better kid than I give you credit for. Just lay off the midnight patrolling for a while? I need to figure a few things out before you go back, and I need you to bear with me while I figure out how to be a proper dad.."

I shake my head, which causes Tony to frown in obvious concern. "You already are. Sometimes I think we forget that we're both a bit new to this dynamic, and if anything, I'm sure we both have a lot to learn about each other. So, I propose we agree to give each other some leeway."

He smiles and nods. I've realized over these past weeks amidst all the preparation for school that he never got the chance to learn. Mum kept me a secret from him for eight years of my life; even after that, she tried to minimize any potential damage. It always felt like she didn't want us around each other with how she'd lie about his calls and why we couldn't visit.

Yeah, neither of us has made it easy on the other, but there's a learning curve involved with being a parent and child with our baggage. It certainly doesn't help that I spent most of my life thinking my Dad never wanted me or cared, but the truth was he did—even if he never knew I existed or realized it yet. Looking into the eyes that I inherited, I can see he's thinking the same thing.

"Sounds like a plan to me, bug." I let him pull me into a tight hug, far to exhausted and in need of comfort to protest, even against the fear of hurting him. It seems though that I'm finally gaining a handle on the contact energy bursts though. "Go rest up. You've had a long day, and you've got school again tomorrow."

I pull away from him, surprise surely etched into my features. "Wait, you're not going to pull me out?"

He just laughs at the idea. "It's like you said, there's a learning curve. I'm trusting that you can handle it, but—" His gaze turns deathly serious. "—if it seems like you're struggling to balance everything; I will."

I know there's something else he's not telling me. It's all in his eyes; either a childish glimmer or a shadow. Whatever it is, it must be good. Because he looks like a kid on Christmas ready to burst at the seams.

As if he can sense my growing curiosity and apprehension, Dad just pats me on the head, which he knows I loathe, and says, "Don't worry about it. You'll see soon."

"Okay." The last syllable drags out as I trudge out the room and towards blissful rest. Still, even as I lay down and let exhaustion take over, my mind still reels wondering what my dad could be hiding.