A/N: So this is a little story that's been floating in my head for a while and I finally decided to write. Hope you like it! Warning: Rated T for language. Disclaimer:I don't own any of the the Avengers characters, though I wish I did

I waited in the line, impatiently tapping my fingers on a kiosk. At five am, you wouldn't have thought that a bunch of people would be shopping in Walgreens, but apparently it was a popular pastime. In the hand resting at my side, I carried a rubik's cube I'd randomly found in the kid's aisle and a pack of hair pins. The hair pins I planned to use to pick the lock on my bedroom door that had gotten stuck and the rubik's cube… well, that was just because I was on leave from work and boredom had overtaken me.

Finally the line moved up and I paid for my items, ignoring the questioning look the cashier gave me for my purchases. In truth, they definitely weren't the weirdest things I'd ever bought. Several years ago I'd come in to buy ten bouncy balls, a roll of duct tape, a lighter, and a pack of tissues for various projects around my apartment. Perhaps then I deserved the weird looks I got, but I still didn't care. After years of constant bullying, I'd slowly learned to stop caring what people thought.

I dropped the Walgreens bag in the passenger seat and set the car into reverse, flipping on the radio. Even though I thought most of the hosts on the news radio were arrogant dumbasses, I hated to drive in silence so I listened anyway. They were talking about the catastrophe in Slovakia, which had happened over a month ago. They'd interviewed citizens, talked about repairs, and recounted the events so many times I probably talked about it in my sleep. Isn't there anything else to talk about? I wondered to myself.

After a fifteen minute drive, I returned to my apartment, which was located just outside Los Angeles. It was a cheap place, since my mother and I had never had much money and ever since she died, I'd had even less. Besides, I only stayed in the house two months out of the year, so it didn't bother me. The other ten months I worked on a cruise ship as a bar tender. It wasn't the ideal job for my skills in engineering, and everyone wondered why the hell I took it instead of taking the full ride I was offered to UCLA, but I loved it. The work was heavy and kept me occupied, which was good considering I had so many things I thought about when I had free time that I sometimes felt I'd explode. My mind was like a tornado of ideas and I didn't know if I'd ever have the time and money to sort them out.

I stomped up the stairs and unlocked my apartment, flicking on the dim lights. Pulling out the hairpins from my pocket, I headed straight for the bedroom door and shoved the pin into the antique lock system. I'd read up on the lock beforehand, so I knew how to angle the hairpin just right to unlock the mechanism. A loud click sounded and I cheered inwardly, opening the door with a bang. I dropped the bag on my desk and lay down on the bed, staring at the cracks on the ceiling. I'd barely slept four hours in the past night, missing the rhythmic rocking of the waves, and now I felt sleepier than ever. I glanced at the clock, surprised to find it read 6 am. I planned to meet my friend at seven to get coffee before she had to go to work, and I needed to start getting ready if I wanted to look presentable. Groaning, I dragged myself off the bed and pulled on a pair of short shorts and a sleeveless blouse. Even in the middle of fall, the heat in Los Angeles was killer. At least, it was for someone raised in northern California. I ran a brush through my tangled ash brown hair then heated up the curling iron to curl it. With that done, I hastily put on light makeup that accented my brown eyes, which looked irritatingly similar to my father's, and practically ran out the door.

At seven ten, I pulled up to the coffee shop under the glare of my high school best friend, Courtney. Even though we'd graduated only one year ago, I already felt distanced from her, like I barely knew her at all. When she'd called to get coffee, I'd been pretty surprised, since I almost forgot she existed.

"Where have you been!" She snapped, putting her hand on her thin hip. "You're ten minutes late!"

I'd forgotten how obsessed she was with punctuality. It was all part of her OCD. "Sorry. I took longer to get ready than I thought."

She rolled her eyes, seeming less angry and more exasperated. "Of course you did. Don't know why you bothered though; you always look flawless." I could sense an undertone of jealousy in her compliment, but I was used to it from her. At school, other people had often called us "slut and ugly", or at least the bullies did. I wasn't a slut, or I least I didn't classify myself as one, and she wasn't ugly, even if she wasn't… conventionally pretty, but no one asked us to pick our nicknames.

"Thanks. So do you."
She smiled, and I knew her ire was gone. "Let's just go inside and catch up." She said, looping her arm through mine. "How was your job? Is the Caribbean pretty? Did you meet any hot guys?"

I answered all her questions while we waited on our coffees then turned the questions around when we sat down. I asked vague questions, since I didn't want to admit I didn't even know where she was going to college, but she answered all with bubbly ignorance. She told me about her internship for a news network, ironically the one I hated listening to, and her fun times at UCLA. She also talked about her 'boyfriend', whose name was Jason or Jake or something, but I knew how noncommittal she was and that it wouldn't last.

By the time we were 'officially caught up' as Courtney put it, it was nearby nine o'clock. "Damn it!" Courtney cursed, looking up the time on her phone. "I have to go work at the opening of the Stark mansion and I was supposed to be there at nine."

My heart skipped a beat at the word 'stark'. "What?" I asked.

"Tony's Stark's new house is finally finished and he's moving in, you know cuz the last one got bombed so he rebuilt, and I'm supposed to be there with the rest of the press to observe how they report everything."

"Is that really worth covering on the news?" I asked incredulously. When I thought about, though, anything was better than more coverage of Slovakia.

She shrugged. "Apparently. The mansion is really nice I guess."

"I'm sure it is. He's filthy rich. " It took a great deal of effort to keep from adding 'and yet I'm poor and he's shared none of it.' That would raise too many questions from her.

"Yeah." For an awkward couple of seconds, neither of us knew what to say. We'd lost the easy friendship we'd had a year ago. I was about to say my goodbyes, but suddenly her eyes brightened and she smile. "You should come with me!" She exclaimed.

My eyebrows furrowed. "I can't just come to work with you."

"It's not really work; none of my supervisors would even notice you. Besides, I'm sure plenty of the public will be there."

I struggled to find a way to say no. I neither wanted to spend more time with Courtney nor wanted to see anything to do with Tony Stark, but I'd already told her I had nothing going on all day. There was no way to refuse without being rude. "Are you sure it's alright?" I asked, hoping she'd change her mind.

"Yes. It'll be fun!" She beamed at me and I tried to muster up the enthusiasm to smile back.

"Alight. I'll come."

She dragged me to her car and we drove to Malibu, where Tony's house had been built. With the windows down and the music blaring, I could almost forget where we were going. As we screamed the lyrics in harmony to the wind, it felt like old times again. Our friendship had mostly been a twenty four hour party, filled with drinking, singing, dancing, and a whole lot of laughing. It was a total contrast from what teachers expected from me, an all A student.

Courtney turned off the music, rolled up the windows, and parked half a mile away from the house when we arrived. The press was thick around the mansion, and we struggled to even get near the it. People on each side of me seemed to suffocate me, and I had to take deep breaths to keep from panicking. I'd never thought of myself as claustrophobic, but this situation would make anyone freak out. With her hand clamped around my wrist, Courtney led me on to a satellite bus car thing with her company's logo on it.

"I have to go report to my boss. You wait here; I'll be back." She said apologetically before sprinting off.

I was left alone, so I leaned against the van and listened to the sound of chaos around me. I doubted anyone even knew I was there. A news broadcaster's voice carried loudly over to me, and I chose him to focus upon. He was just talking about the house, how big it was and stuff, and though I didn't care, I listened out of curiosity. I couldn't see who was by the house over the heads of the press, but I could see part of the house. As far as modern houses go, it was pretty awesome. The walls were gray and curved, like so much modern architecture, with large glass windows at irregular intervals. Besides that, it was huge, and even the driveway had more square feet than my whole apartment building.

Suddenly, the commotion escalated. "It's Tony Stark." A broadcaster exclaimed. Much as I hated to admit it, I was dying to see what he looked like in person, to see if I really looked as much like him as my mother used to say. I stepped onto the back bumper of the truck, trying to see over the crowd. The height didn't help much; now I could see heads but nothing else. I did see read hair though, so I knew Pepper was there. I wondered what she'd think of me if she met me. Most likely, she'd hate me, despite the fact I wanted her to like me. There weren't any other kickass business women like Pepper Potts, and I doubted anyone wanted to be on her bad side.

The noise was almost too great, so I crouched down again and covered my ears. How did reporters and celebrities deal with this on a daily basis? I was so glad I didn't have to go through this daily.

For the next five minutes, everything was normal. Courtney was walking back towards me, the press was screaming at Tony to make remarks, I was trying to see over people's heads, and the air felt like air. Then, everything stopped. I didn't see it at the time, but I later saw footage of that instant where invisible bombs whizzed through the air, displacing it, and landed on the ground. They exploded in balls of fire, incinerating everything in a ten foot radius and blowing away everything in the next fifty feet. There were three bombs, one of which landed in the driveway of the house, but I was more concerned with the one that landed fifty feet away from me. The truck I'd been standing near rolled over, thankfully in the opposite direction of me, but I was still pushed into it. On impact, I didn't feel anything besides shock, and I bounced off the side and onto the grass. Somehow, other people standing in front of me had lessened the heat of the bomb, but my skin still felt like it'd fry off. I faded in and out of consciousness.

For maybe ten minutes, all I heard was the murmur of people talking, sirens, and screaming. What had happened? I couldn't quite process enough to know. My head and back were beginning to ache from hitting the van, but I didn't think there were broken bones, just bruises. It was an interesting mix, having the front side of me feel like it was on fire while the back pulsed and ached. I almost wished I were dead, but I liked living too much.

I slowly opened my eyes, having forgotten I'd closed them, and stared at my burnt surroundings. Light hurt my eyes, so I was glad that I was shaded from the sun by some sort of debris. Whatever it was, maybe the side of a car or something, had my legs pinned beneath it, but since it didn't hurt I hadn't even realized. Now that I grew more and more conscious, I shifted, trying to free myself. My heart beat quickened when I realized I couldn't move away. I bucked and twisted, only successfully moving the metal so it made a loud creak.

"Is there anyone else?" I heard a voice nearby say.

"I don't think so. Within this range, it's unlikely anyone survived." Replied someone else.

I wanted to scream 'I survived!' but the shock had frozen my tongue and I couldn't manage to form words.

The footsteps were moving, passing near my head. I quietly managed to croak, "Help." Thankfully, the footsteps stopped. "Did you hear something?" One of the men asked. From his nice shoes and navy pants, I assumed he was a police officer.

"It came from under that shrapnel." The other voice replied. His shoes were normal, so I had no idea who he was or what he was doing here. He sounded familiar, but I couldn't place his voice. Though I'd thought the metal was pretty heavy looking, the second man lifted it with ease, letting light shine onto my hunched figure. I squeezed my eyes shut to block the light.

The man lifted the shrapnel from my legs, and they felt suddenly lighter. I weakly pulled myself to my feet, with the help of his outstretched hand. My eyes slowly adjusted to the sun and I could clearly see the face of the man who'd helped me. I knew I'd seen him before, but I still couldn't place him. I pursed my lips, flipping through all my memories to find a face framed by brown-blonde hair and with sea blue eyes, also who just so happened to be very attractive.

The wheels in my head were still rapidly turning when the policemen put a hand on my back and started to lead me away. I walked a few steps, then it hit me, and I jolted to a stop.

"Steve Rogers! That's who you are! I knew you looked familiar." I exclaimed, turning to face him. He'd already started walking away but he stopped when he heard his name.

"Yes, most people do recognize me."He said with a shrug. He moved as if to walk away, and then stopped, looking closer at me with confusion. "You look somewhat familiar too, though I don't think I've met you before."

"No." I couldn't stop the next words before they slipped out. "But you know my father pretty damn well I bet." Why would I say that, I chastised myself, cheeks reddening. It was true, but I couldn't let the secret get out by giving leads like that. I hurried off with the police officer before Steve Rogers could reply and ask questions.