Azara's pov

Waking up was a literal nightmare. Not just because I was kinda late to my breakfast slot and there were no hash browns left but because all I saw over and over and over was the crash.

Spinning through the air.

Heat seeping into my bones.

Flames encasing the car like a chrysalis, cocooning the now hollow shell.

But my nightmares always take a turn. Any nightmares I have do.

I never dissolved into the shadows, I never accidentally eavesdropped on Mr Stark and the God of Lightning. I never got tracked by SHIELD and taken to a flying airport run by a wannabe pirate.

Instead, I'm all alone. I can never find my dad: the fire's to much. The police take me home and return the next day to ask me some questions. I know nothing. We were singing. Maybe a tire blew out. Maybe... well, that's not my job to know the why.

But I'm alone. I have no one. I spend the next 12 weeks huddled on the sofa; eating the contents of the cupboard until they're bare. It took a while: I don't eat when I don't have to because it's a waste of money.

But then one day, I'm not alone. My dad comes home. He's skeletal - thin and hollow, pale and pained. All he does is point a finger to me and to a coffin. His coffin: the only reason I've left the house. His funeral. I didn't say a word, I didn't go the wake, I had no emotion. I was as hollow as him. He doesn't need to say anything: I've thought it all myself.

It's my fault. It's my fault we were even going to that stupid cabin. It's my fault I turned the radio on and he was distracted from the road. It's my fault I didn't pull him from the car.

It's my fault he's dead.

It's my fault I'm alive.

I wake with a start: my father's pale, accusing face still swimming in my eyes. He haunted me. He was my ghost.

After a quick shower and breakfast (as I said, there were no hash browns which put me in a even worse mood) an agent tells me to report to the bridge.

There're no maps in this place so I probably went the long way - down to my room and trying to follow the path Agent Romanoff practically sprinted along yesterday.

As I enter the bridge, Fury gestures for me to sit at the table. I keep my head down: it's the bridge after all, it's none of my business to let my eyes wander. As I sit down, Tony walks in and greets me with a wide smile.

"You alright kid? Looking a bit peaky?" He ask in a caring tone.

"Uh, yeah, I never sleep great," I reply, which isn't a total lie but definitely wasn't the full truth.

I wait a few minutes for the director to come over. In that time I manage to fully zone out, staring at the edge of the table in front of me; my hands draws into balls in my sleeves.

My father was there. His accusing eyes; his hollow face.

"Earth to Alarie! Earth to Alarie!" Tony waves his hands at me, trying to get my attention.

My eyes snap up, the memory of my dad still lingering in my mind.

"Uh, sorry, I zoned out," I said to the billionaire apologetically.

"I noticed that. Right, well, we need your opinion," Stark explained, "we want to train you, see if whatever happened Friday night was anything to do with you."

"You think I have, like, super powers or something?" I ask.

"Maybe, we don't know. Look kid, it won't hurt to try and... well, only time will tell."

"Yeah sure, sounds good..." I trailed off as Fury and Tony started telling me information I couldn't pay attention to. I added in the odd "ok" and "sounds good" when it seemed necessary but I have zero clue what the were talking about. I'll work it out: I always do.

Natasha's pov

The newbie, Azara as she introduced herself yesterday, doesn't look so good.

Not in an ill or sickly way but yesterday there was sarcasm and annoying comments in an apparent attempt to be funny (I did have to bite the inside of my cheek at the Bond thing, though I'll never admit it.)

But today she sat as if she wasn't there. Nodding absentmindedly as Tony and Fury talked at her.

She looked lost and I felt bad for her. According to Coulson, she never asked any questions - other than if he wanted a drink as he waited for her to get her stuff, which isn't a courtesy we normally get offered - and sat quietly and still as a statue on the quinjet.

When Fury finished, she stood and looked over towards the door where I was stood near. She sends me a small smile but it never reaches her eyes, as they say. As she left, and when she appeared to believe no one could see her face, an emotionless yet lost look replaces the vacantly bored one from before; the slight humorous glint in her eye gone completely.

I don't know what she's doing now nor what Fury and Tony decided to do with her but whatever it was wasn't exciting her.

Azara's pov

I register Fury giving me directions and I listen slightly more. Something about a training room and a briefing I should attend tonight.

He finishes and dismisses me to go have a lunch break. As I leave I feel the intimating gaze of one Agent Romanoff on me. I look up and meet her eyes, giving her a small smile.

As I leave, I can hear my father's pics swimming around in my head like a siren. I drain myself of visible emotion otherwise... well I'm not sure what I would look like.

I head back to my room and I'm faced with two big bags full of my stuff, just as Tony promised. After hanging it all up in the deceptively big wardrobe, I glance at the time table screen imbedded into the wall. Lunch.

I couldn't be bothered with lunch per usual, so I flopped onto the bed. I threw the, what I though were empty bags, off my bed and I heard a crinkle of a packet.

I grab the bag up off the floor and see a packet of pitta chips lying in a zip up side pocket with a post it note stuck on it.

We saw you had about 10 bags around the flat so we assumed you're mildly obsessed with them.

Enjoy,
Agent Coulson

I smiled and made a mental note to thank him later.

I know sleeping isn't going to be overly pleasant but I have a couple of hours or so until I need to get ready.

I take a deep breath and set an alarm before drifting off to sleep.

I bolt upright, hyperventilating. It was the same dream but it felt even more realistic than last night. I stumble blindly to my bathroom and chug a glass full of ice cold water; splashing some in my face.

But nothing works. My skin crawls and my barely healed cuts and grazes from the crash burn like salt is being poured in them. My breath is ragged and I can't work out which way I'm facing; which ways up or which ways down.

I slide down the smooth, tiled wall until I felt the cold floor beneath me. I choke out a sob in between my sharp, quick breaths.

I let it wash over me. I fall asleep slumped uncomfortably against the wall.

A beeping sound wakes me. My alarm. I don't want to move but I now I have to.

I know I have to be ok.

Or at least, I need to look like I'm ok. That's all that's all that matters to me here: show no weakness to anyone. No one will ask you bullshit questions like 'what's up? Talk to me' or 'I'm here for you, what's the matter?' Those people never care: they just say they are because it's the 'right thing to do'. When I don't get emotionally involved it's easier to detach yourself. Maybe that's why my dad is haunting me so much: he's the only one I let in so I don't really have any experience at goodbyes.

I grab the sink and pull myself up. I look like I've been hit by a truck but there's nothing a little concealer and cold water won't fix.

I throw on the training gear they provided me with and put my dark brunette hair up in a bun. I look... respectable; it's not like it's a fashion show.

I head down right on time and the combat trainer introduces herself as Agent Blaine.

"Have you ever done any combat? Even if it's just a bit of Karate in junior school," She ask as she offers to tape up my hands.

I nod before saying, "I've been trained in jujitsu and mixed martial arts from a young age. It's never come in handy before but I guess today is the day."

She smiles and looks mildly relieved that she doesn't have to start with the very basics.

"Well then Alarie, let's see what you've got."

We fight for nearly an hour until she call a stop. We'd kept score in between her giving me tips when it comes to real combat; not just training on mats and with head protection. The score was 9-7 to her but I was just glad I didn't get my ass completely beat after saying how long I'd done combat for.

"I'm impressed Azara. You've got skill and definitely potential. I'm not sure if Fury's already told you but he'd like you to be at the agent briefing tonight at 1900 hours. But, uh, go have a shower, you deserve it," She dismisses me with a smile and I thank her before smiling to myself about the idea that shower.

Just as I close the door, everything hits me again like a truck but this time I'm able to keep my breathing under control. Training obviously takes my mind off it all so I now know where to go if I'm have a bad day.

I skip dinner as well, opting for some pitta chips and a Diet Coke I had on the side. The shower was definitely good and the aches and pains of the crash were slowly washing away.

The clock in my room shows 18:50 so I throw on my ripped, black skinny jeans, tucked in my oversized Pantera t-shirt, a pair of worn DMs and my favourite leather jacket before letting my slightly wavy hair down. I live in this kind of stuff so it makes me feel... regular, maybe even if it's only a little bit.

I'm - just like training - right on time. The room is full of agents chatting and I know none of them. Initiating a conversation isn't exactly my forté so I stand in the corner, leaning against the wall casually as Fury talks about... I have zero clue what he was talking about if I'm being honest but at least I'm showing my face.

I'm stood in the shadows. They make me feel protected, as if I know them. I zone out, just like on the bridge and I close my eyes in a long blink.

Yet when I open my eyes I feel different. I feel disconnected. I feel out of place.

I suddenly feel quite nauseous so I leave and hurry back to my room nearby. I'm sick so I get up and go to grab my toothbrush; as I do, I look in the mirror.

I yelp as see I'm... I'm not there. I'm invisible.

BITCH IM INVISIBLE WHAT THE HELL!

I look down but I'm there. That's when I notice it. I'm stood in the shadow of the shower curtain. I step out and look in the mirror and I'm there; I'm back.

I step into the shadow once again but I don't disappear. I try and imagine the mirror empty; without me in it.

And I'm gone.

Tony's pov

I look back at the group of agents from my PowerPoint presentation just in time to see the door open and close... on its own.

And Azara's gone. That can't be a coincidence.

I glance at Fury as he noticed as well. I wrap up the monthly meeting quickly and run off towards Azara's room.

Maybe our suspicions are correct.

Hey y'all! I'm aware that there hasn't been much Nat but atm I'm just setting the scene for Az's character because I also want this story to be interesting plot-wise.

Thanks again,

Much love, Shrimpward xx