𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 she walked into the tower. The conversation with Mrs. Spencer echoed in her head, making her feel like every step she took weighed a hundred pounds.

Your fault.

He's dead, and I blame you.

Judging by Tony's iron grip in her hand and the pale pallor of his face, his mind was torturing him even worse.

No, Charlie couldn't see things getting easier any time soon. Now, she just felt a bunch of pent-up energy- whether from anxiety or ADHD, she didn't know.

She let go of Tony's hand, wandering over to the window. She breathed deeply, bobbing up and down on her feet as she watched the tiny figures walk along the sidewalks on Manhattan.

"You eaten yet?" Tony asked. His voice sounded a bit shaky; he cleared his throat and feigned nonchalance. "I put a stick note on top of your Adderall."

Charlie shook her head, clenching her hands over and over again. She wanted to go outside and run a mile; she wanted to jump in her suit and fly a thousand miles above the city.

Tony pulled a loaf of bread out of the pantry, loosening his tie and rolling his neck, easing out the tension. He watched as Charlie bounced up and down on her toes, bobbing her head to nothing but the imaginary beat in her head, staring out the window like she was looking for something.

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you even take your meds this morning?"

Charlie's head snapped up, realizing what she was doing. She smiled sheepishly. "...Nope."

Tony nodded. "Cool. How, pray tell, did you manage to make it through the entire college assembly?"

"Coffee," Charlie said. "Pepper had an extra one and I bribed her with the promise of good behavior. I don't think I even need Adderall, Dad. Caffeine literally fixes everything."

"Tell that to the state-of-the-art psychiatrist whose been prescribing you since you were eight, kiddo," Tony shook his head.

Charlie pouted, eyes flickering around the kitchen until they settled on the sandwich Tony was making, where he was lathering an obscene amount of mayonnaise. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Don't- don't put that much, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Making a fucking sandwich, what does it look like?"

"Dad."

"Spawn."

Charlie made a face. "I'm not your spawn, thank you."

Tony brandished his butter knife at her. "Then you shouldn't be complain about my sandwich- making skills."

"You're not making a fucking sandwich, you're drowning bread in mayo, Dad."

"What, you just eat yours dry? You like the feeling of swallowing tasteless sandpaper? That's my job, I'm the old white guy."

Charlie flopped against him, smashing her face into the back of his dress shirt. "You're Italian. You're supposed to have some sense of good food. Pops, I can understand. Irish, and from the 40's. Holy shit, the food must have been foul."

She felt Tony's back vibrate as he hummed. "You know, New York has given you a bit of a swearing problem, kid."

"Nah, just you." Charlie yawned. She thumped her head gently against Tony's back as he finished up making his sandwich.

Tony reached behind him and poked her side, making her yelp. She reached out to poke him back just as Tony's phone rang.

He pulled it out of his pocket, brows furrowing slightly when he saw the caller ID. "Speaking of the devil," he held up a finger, tapping her forehead with it. "Hey, babe. What's the hold up? You know I don't like to be kept waiting-"

Charlie couldn't hear the person on the other end, but Tony's expression quickly crumbled into one of fear and concern.

"Steve, what do you mean-" Tony's jaw gritted as he walked to the other side of the room, gesturing for Charlie to stay put. She obliged, wringing her fingers. "Woah, woah, woah. Slow down."

Charlie's eyes narrowed, watching her Dad's body language change completely. Charlie tried desperately to hear what Steve was saying, but it only took a few moments before Tony's hand flew to his mouth, his eyes closing briefly.

"Oh, God, Wanda."

Charlie felt her heart sink into her stomach.

Oh, God, Wanda usually didn't mean anything good. It usually meant she'd lost control, which meant someone had been on the other end of devastatingly cosmic power.

Charlie had been there before, and she would give anything to not have the memory of it.

While Charlie was smitten by Wanda at first, with her impeccable style and gorgeous red hair and accent, her crush had faded fairly quickly.

Wanda was an incredible woman, there was no doubt about that- but Charlie quickly found that she couldn't look at Wanda's powers without flinching.

The memory of Wanda using them to make her relive the most traumatic moments of her life was ingrained into her brain. Charlie had been a little kid when Wanda had done what she did- she'd seen the memories and made her go through them again anyway, willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.

It hurt, to say the least.

The more time she spent around Wanda, the more wary she felt.

Charlie knew better than anyone that people could change, but it was a rough first impression. She watched as Steve took such a liking to Wanda, despite the fact that she had signed up for Nazi Hydra experiments all on her own- the very people that had started the war that left him stranded in a different century.

For most people, maybe it would be easier. Forgive and forget- thats what you were supposed to do, right? Maybe for someone who only had an outside perspective, or someone who was kinder, a better person.

But for a fifteen year old girl with a raging case of PTSD and serious trust issues, it was a bit more complicated.

Tony was pinching the bridge of his nose. He glanced at Charlie before muttering something to Steve that Charlie couldn't hear.

Charlie walked forward slowly, straining to hear.

"Come back, okay?" Tony was saying. "You come back, you got it, Rogers?"

With a short nod, Tony hung up the phone, looking like a man ten years older than he was.

"What happened?" Charlie asked, feeling slightly panicked. "Is Pops okay? What happened to Wanda?"

"Pops is fine," Tony said, his face screwed up like he'd been sucking on a lemon. "Wanda..." he sighed. "J.A.R.V.I.S, let me see the damage."

The television in the meeting room lit up. Loud noise immediately erupted and Charlie walked over to it, entranced.

"... The Avengers were on site on operation. The explosion was deemed a result of a suicide bomber contained by the newest Avenger Wanda Maximoff. Eleven confirmed casualties, identified as Wakandan relief aid workers. Civilian casualties are still being tallied..."

An explosion.

Charlie clamped a hand over her mouth, feeling sick.

"This isn't good," Tony ran his hands down his face. "Jesus, I knew she needed more time to adjust. We can't just keep throwing her into the field- not with her powers. The casualties are too much. Steve keeps insisting she's ready."

"She didn't mean to," Charlie said automatically. "She's going to be destroying herself over this. You know she is. She has a guilt complex almost as big as yours."

Charlie didn't need to mention she had one too.

The hundreds of nights of nightmares- namely the ones with Pietro Maximoff's body on top of hers, trapping her on the ground.

"I know she didn't mean to," Tony sighed. "Nobody has to tell me that. None of us would; thats not who we are."

Guilt probably had something do with it it, Charlie decided. The reluctance to spend time with Wanda. It was Charlie's fault he was dead, really. He had jumped in front of those bullets meant for her.

Charlie sat down on the couch, her eyes glued on the TV.

Shots of bystanders panned across the screen; people screaming, sobbing, standing in front of an ash-covered, blackened building.

"She didn't mean to," Tony repeated. "But it doesn't change that it happened. She's dangerous, whether we like it or not. Even she can't fully comprehend what she can do."

Charlie couldn't blame Wanda if she really did intend to hurt her. Charlie deserved whatever she got; the re-lived memories, the trauma, the sleepless nights.

"We'll have to wait until Pops gets back," Charlie said softly. She felt almost tired, all of the sudden. Like she was starting to slip away, check out.

"He'll be back soon," Tony was saying. His voice was fading a bit. Charlie felt like she was floating outside of her body. "About twenty minutes, he said. All of this happened early this morning..."

Charlie's mind had gone quiet. There was a buzzing in her head, her limbs incredibly heavy.

"Charlie?" Tony frowned at the lack of response. He looked over, brows furrowing when he saw her.

Her eyes were unfocused, her lips parted.

"Charlie." Tony gently laid his hand on hers.

Charlie didn't respond. Her face was slack, her arms and legs limp.

Tony sat up straight in alarm. He reached up and grabbed Charlie's shoulder, shaking it firmly. "Charlie?"

Charlie jumped, eyes darting up to his. "Huh?"

Tony leaned down, frowning. "Where'd you go?"

Charlie looked disoriented. Her nails found the scabbed pars of her thumbs before Tony quickly separated them, looking at her with concerned eyes.

"Kid?" Tony sat next to her. He put the back of his hand against her forehead, but there was no fever. She just felt clammy. "What was that?"

Charlie frowned, looking at the TV. It took her a moment to speak, but when she did, her voice was faint, confused. "I dunno. Happens sometimes."

Tony's eyes widened in alarm. "What? This- this has happened before and you didn't think to tell me? Honey, this isn't normal."

Charlie shrugged. She avoided Tony's eyes, but she could feel him staring at her in disbelief.

"Bubs, look at me," Tony said quietly. He sat down next to her, waiting until she met his eyes. "Have you talked to your therapist about that?"

Charlie glared at him, clearly coming back to herself now. "Really? Is therapy anywhere close to the biggest of our problems right now?"

"Kid, you are always going to be the biggest of my problems," Tony said, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Thanks," Charlie said dryly.

"You know what I meant," Tony waved his hand in frustration. "You- you come first. Always. You know that. Bubs, why didn't you tell me?"

Charlie groaned. "Because I don't want you worrying about anything else!"

Tony paused. "What are you talking about?"

Charlie gave him a look. "I'm not stupid, Dad. You and Pops have been arguing ever since the Barnes took off."

Tony looked down at his hands. "We're not arguing-"

"Dad."

"And if we were," Tony ignored her, "It's not something for you to worry about. I don't care if Pops and I are going for each others throats, kid- if something is wrong, you come to us. Capiche?"

"Capiche," Charlie said quietly. Then, "Are you and Pops gonna be okay?"

Tony looked at her, frowning. "Kid, we've been married for sixteen years. A few arguments aren't gonna break us up. We're Iron man and Captain America, for God's sake."

There were still words left unspoken, but Charlie was too tired to bring up Bucky.

"Charlie," Tony said softly. "Look at me, please."

She lifted her head, feeling exhausted.

"Are you okay?"

Charlie avoided his eyes. If she looked at him, she'd break down from embarrassment and the sudden onset of emotions. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. It's not a big deal. It's never hurt me before."

"How often does this happen?" Tony pressed. "I mean, when- when did this start?"

Charlie knew the answer, but she don't want to say it. "It's not that big of a deal, Dad."

"Dissociation is a big fuckin' deal, kiddo." Tony insisted. He stood at the same time she did. "You remember when I used to do it, when it got bad after New York?"

Of course Charlie remembered.

She didn't want to think about it- it wasn't a very fond memory, her father just shutting down and staring at nothing in the middle of speaking to her. It was a bit traumatizing for a twelve-year-old little kid.

It was another thing she'd conveniently blocked out of her memory.

Charlie stood from the couch, scrubbing her hands over her face. She avoided Tony's eyes. "Yeah, Dad. I'm fine."

"How often does this happen?" Tony pressed. "When did this start?"

"In Afghanistan, Dad," Charlie sighed, walking into the kitchen. She opened up the cupboard, pulling back out the loaf of bread. her words faded into mumbles. "It started in Afghanistan."

It was a nasty thing to say. Tony had just as much trauma surrounding it as she did. Charlie avoided talking about Afghanistan with anyone but her therapist.

It wasn't a card they played. Never; not even in the worst of their arguments.

But it was the truth.

And maybe, it would make Tony drop it, and they could move on.

Charlie tossed a piece of cheese onto her two slices of bread, trying to avoid Tony's eyes. But the silence became too tangible to bear, and she found herself looking up before she could help it.

Tony looked heartbroken.

"Dad," Charlie said, immediately regretting saying anything. "Dad, I'm sorry-"

Tony shook his head. "Uh-uh. Was it the true?"

Charlie swallowed, nodding. She watched as he took a shaky breath.

"You aren't allowed to apologize for something that happened to you," Tony reminded her. "I just wish you'd told me this was going on sooner."

"I just... I wanted to be better." Charlie put the two pieces of bread and cheese together. She wasn't hungry anymore, but she was too embarrassed to go sit back down. "I've been in therapy for a couple of years. The nightmares aren't as frequent anymore, and I've made so much improvement with touch."

Tony sat and watched her, patiently. Giving her time to speak.

"I didn't want this to be a... Thing." Charlie mumbled. "Not when I've gotten so far. It's a more recent development. It happened every time... you know. When I was seven. But it just started happening again. I didn't know what it was."

Tony nodded. "It doesn't have to be a Thing, kiddo. It's something we have to deal with, though. You need to talk to your therapist."

Charlie exhaled, gripping the countertop. She stared at her sandwich. "Yeah. I know."

Tony opened his mouth to say something else right as the elevator buzzed open.

Both their heads darted up.

Natasha walked in first. She had shed her beige-brown coat, holding it in one hand, raking thorough her hair with the other. She stopped for a moment when she saw Charlie and Tony staring at her.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked immediately. He had stood from the couch, studying her arms in her tank top, looking for bruises.

Nat's eyes flickered to Charlie, then to Tony.

"She knows," Tony said.

Nat nodded. She was silent for a moment, tossing her coat onto the sofa. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, clearly stalling.

"It's not good," she said finally. She stared at Tony. "There's going to be a lot of coverage on it. We're not going to be able to keep it under wraps. And I don't think we'll want to. A lot of people died today."

Tony nodded curtly. "I'll talk to Pepper, see what she can do. But for now we'll start on the relief-aid efforts. Get in contact with the families, for whatever memorial or funeral proceedings they'll need."

Charlie watched as Nat nodded solemnly.

"Happy can post a bit more security around the Tower, just to be safe." Tony said. He focused on Charlie then, as if deciding what to say. Then, carefully- "You're not going anywhere tonight, kiddo."

Charlie's heart began racing. "What do you mean? Where would I be going?" she asked.

Tony didn't make eye contact. "Just... stay put, Charlie. Got it?'

Charlie opened her mouth defensively. She could feel heat flushing her cheeks, but she wasn't going to acknowledge it. What did Tony know?

Nat was looking between them with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not stupid enough to leave tonight," Charlie said insisted.

Tony nodded. "Good. Shouldn't be a problem, then."

He definitely knew something.

Fuck.

"Sam's right behind me," Nat said, as Charlie stared down her father with narrowed eyes. "Steve and Wanda will be right behind him. It's going to be rough."

Tony loosened his tie even more, looking ten years older. "Got it. Charlie, why don't you do to your room?"

"I'm not leaving until I've seen Pops," Charlie said automatically.

Tony didn't have time to argue as the elevator beeped again, and Sam walked in.

"You alright?" Tony asked immediately.

Sam nodded. "Medical already checked me out. I'm all good, man." He looked at Charlie. "Hey, kid. How was your morning?"

Charlie smiled thinly. "Probably better than yours."

Sam nodded, sighing. Then, to Tony- "Wanda's on her way up."

"Charlie-"

"I'm not leaving, Dad," Charlie said sharply. "So stop fuckin' asking."

Tony stared down her down, but she held his gaze. She wasn't a little kid anymore; she deserved to know what was happening with her family.

Finally, the elevator beeped one last time.

Charlie clutched the countertop, trying to shove down the fear creeping up her throat. Her hands shook slightly, but she ignored it, her eyes pinned on the opening doors.

Steve walked into the room in full uniform, shield still on his back.

His arm was sturdy around Wanda's shoulders, keeping her upright as she slumped into him, hiding her face behind long red hair. Her hands shook and she avoided their gaze. Her eyes were red and swollen.

Charlie hadn't realized that Tony had crossed to kitchen towards her until she felt his hand hovering near the small of her back.

"Steve," Tony said quietly. His husband looked up, blue eyes meeting brown.

"I'm going to take Wanda to her room," Steve said carefully. He didn't even look at Charlie. "We can talk after."

Tony nodded jerkily.

Wanda looked up for a moment. She looked exhausted and resigned as she opened her mouth for a moment, eyes flitting to Tony before dropping again.

"I'm sorry."

It was quiet and raspy. Charlie felt a pang of sympathy for her. She couldn't imagine having that kind of power and just trying to help, only to have it end in tragedy.

"I know," Tony said softly. "We're going to figure it out, okay?"

Wanda didn't respond. She just turned back towards Steve, who kept his arm around her. They walked slowly out of the room and towards the hallway, rounding the corner until they were out of sight.

Charlie and Tony stood stock still for an excruciatingly long moment.

Suddenly Tony straightened, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder in a jerky motion. He avoided Charlie's eyes.

"I've got some shit to sort out," he muttered. He finally glanced at Charlie for a moment, who was still standing at the counter, her legs tingling. "I'll see about... dinner, later. Just don't- don't do anything. Stay here."

Charlie nodded quickly. "I'm fine, Dad," she promised softly. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

Tony exhaled. He reached up to fix his tie, tightening it against his throat and squaring his shoulders. He walked out of the room, rehabbing for his phone, no doubt dialing Pepper.

Charlie was left standing alone in her kitchen, craving more than ever for when it was filled with laughter and simpler times.

Tony+ Steve as Charlie + Nick in honor of Heartstopper coming out on Netflix this week. Go watch it y'all it's the cutest thing on the planet.

A/N:
So that was kinda rough. It went a tiny bit into Charlie and Wanda's relationship, which will be explored further.

We also discovered why Charlie keeps spacing out like that, which has happened a few times but not as severely as it did here. Dissociation can come with PTSD and a lot of other factors. Recovery isn't linear, and Charlie's getting there on her own time.

Say your prayers and drink some water, my dear readers. Shit is going down.