I ended the video call with Dr. Garner, feeling completely calm and disconnected from anything I'd just spilled to him. Which was pretty much everything that had happened over Thanksgiving week, from my near-drowning, Thanksgiving Day, and my official withdrawal from Midtown High.

Congrats, Holly, Nova's voice came through the sound system of my lab. Your vitals remained clear, no signs of an attack. This dosage is the correct one.

I let out a sigh of relief. The past few days I had been working almost constantly in my lab, researching and building and trying to figure out what dose of which medication I'd need to keep myself from panicking while talking about the tough stuff. After extensive research into medications and reactions, I had decided to use a benzodiazepine. I just hadn't been sure until today which one I would be relying on.

The tests were simple, but tricky to hide from the Avengers. Nova asked me common questions that I'd be asked during a psych eval after I'd dosed myself up. Too small of a dose and I'd start to have a panic attack. To large of a dose and I would get extremely sleepy and start giggling about the HYDRA facility I'd been kept in, which was the other side of the crazy spectrum.

I hadn't even known that I would have a therapy appointment today, although I shouldn't have been surprised. Dr. Garner had undoubtedly been spending Thanksgiving with his family or friends, and Monday afternoon was probably the soonest that Tony and Pepper could get him after my stupid flashback.

When the call started to go through, I had jumped through the roof, scrambling to hide the holograms of brains and possible models for the device before running toward my lab's mini fridge, where I was hiding the vials of benzodiazepine types behind cans of Sprite, Tony's least favorite soft drink. Not that Tony usually went into the fridge in my lab, but it'd be pretty stupid to get caught because I'd left stuff lying around in the open.

With Nova telling me to stop and wait until we had more data before shooting myself up with something and talking to Garner, I hesitated before impulsively picking one with my most educated guess; lorazepam. It wasn't recommended for children under the age of eighteen, but I quickly uncapped a syringe, mentally cut the dose in half for a ninety-pound adult, and after getting the correct amount from the vial, shot it into my deltoid. Then I had answered the call, and with the fast acting drug seeping through my bloodstream, was able to act normally.

I was so freaking lucky that it had worked. And now, I knew which benzodiazepine to use.

"About time we had some success," I grumbled. I should feel victorious. So why'd I feel guilty?

You know this is just putting a bandaid on a bullet hole, Nova pointed out for probably the seventieth time since Fury had called Thanksgiving Day.

Yep. That was why.

I knew what I was doing- tricking everyone into thinking I was fine so I could get into a preparatory SHIELD Academy- was wrong. Yet every time I debated it, I came to the same conclusion- I had to be ready for whatever was coming next. First the Chitauri Invasion, and then a mere year later, Ultron had happened? Whatever came next, I wanted to be prepared.

And something told me that something would come soon. There was just too much evidence pointing that way. The Avengers were constantly in and out of the Tower, looking stressed. They usually stopped talking when I came into the room. And Fury giving me that call on Thanksgiving, quizzing me up about the combat spaceships I had drafted schematics for?

Something was up. It had to be. Or something was coming.

And as I sat in my lab, a vial of the successful medication in my hand, I knew that I had two choices.

One, I could stay in the tower and recover the long way, the hard way. Safe, but essentially just waiting for the fight to come to me, and whatever training I had- which depended on if Tony ever gave me a suit again, and what Natasha and Steve taught me in the limited time we had, when they were available to teach me.

Or I could play a bigger part, a bigger role, than just another family member the Avengers were trying to keep safe. I could help, not be a liability. It just involved a very dangerous short term fix that, according to my and Nova's research, hadn't been done before; a device that was almost like a patch, with a quarter inch long needle, stuck deep into my lateral thigh (specifically the vastus lateralis) each morning, with Nova in my skull in a cochlear implant-like device, linked and ready to release the meds at the first sign of a debilitating panic attack or flashback. Being a liability, or having a dangerous short-term fix?

It really wasn't a question.

December in New York was brutal, but Avengers Tower was practically bursting with Christmas cheer. We'd spent the entire first day of December– all of us – decorating, watching Christmas movies, drinking hot chocolate (in my case) or eggnog (the adults), and just enjoying each other's company.

Despite dropping out of Midtown High, I still talked to Peter nearly every day. The cover was supposedly that my military father had been relocated, and I had moved, but because Peter knew the truth anyway, I didn't even bother to tell him that lie. I did, however, humor the Avengers and make any audio calls be untraceable. It was probably a good habit to get into, anyway. My hair was its natural black again instead of blonde, so the Avengers had told me not to do video calls, but I still saw Peter once or twice a week when he would swing by the rooftop. Usually I'd try to convince him on these nights to let me build him a damn super suit, because wearing spandex and fighting crime in the winter of New York was hyperthermia-inducing, but he always refused. I couldn't blame him; I preferred building things with my own hands as well.

I was expecting this time of year to be harder. My mom had died nearly a year ago, two days before Christmas, and it was something that I was trying to avoid thinking about at all costs. Amazingly, between building the device, talking to Peter, and spending time with Tony and Pepper, I was too busy to dwell on it. Usually it only came back full force at night, when I was trying to shut my brain off and sleep.

But despite that, I hadn't been having as many nightmares, although when I did, the panic still came back in full force. But now, knowing that I could push a miniscule dosage of lorazepam before the therapy sessions to keep the panic at bay, I was more than willing to appease Tony and Pepper and talk to Dr. Garner about the nightmare. It made me feel guilty, like I was lying to Pepper and my dad, but Tony and Pepper seemed less stressed out, happier, thinking that therapy was finally helping. And it couldn't be a bad thing what I was doing, if it was helping them.

The knowledge of my device was as reassuring as carrying around Nova's chip, and I felt a cocky confidence that I hadn't since before I had been kidnapped by HYDRA rise to the surface again. HYDRA hadn't broken me, just like Ten Rings hadn't broken my dad. We were Starks. We could do anything.

The device was complete, built and everything, and now I just needed some way to insert it into my brain. Something told me that even though Peter and I still talked and worked on our cloaking device every day, he would not be a willing accomplice to inserting an experimental device into my brain. And to be honest, although I trusted him not to blow my identity, there was no way I was going to trust him something that could damage my brain.

I had drafted schematics for precision bots, controlled by Nova, but both of us were skeptical. There just wasn't a plausible way to insert it. The device was ready to go, but I was stuck.

Nova tried to tell me that it didn't matter if we ever inserted it; that as long as I passed the psych evaluation, I would be in SHIELD prep, and I didn't need the device to stay there. I could tell that she was liking the idea less and less, but even she couldn't deny that while being able to inject myself with lorazepam before potentially panicking was effective, there was no way that I would be able to do it while in the throws of a panic attack or flashback.

A week before Christmas, everyone was back at Stark Tower, and I was sprawled out on the communal living room floor, watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation with everyone besides Bruce and Thor. Bruce had been staying shut up in the lab more and more. I know Tony was worried about him, even though of course he didn't say it directly. I wasn't sure where Thor was- I think Asgard. At least, this morning Tony had made a snarky remark about the roof never recovering from Thor's takeoffs.

Right now, everything seemed fine. Everyone- even Clint, who'd been moping around understandably since Thanksgiving- was laughing at the movie.

"The squirrel being in the Christmas tree is the best part," Tony chuckled. "Real talk, if one got into ours —" he gestured at the twelve-foot-tall tree in the corner of the room— "What would you do?"

The answered ranged from reasonable- 'shoot it with a stun arrow/gun', 'freeze it into place', and 'hit it gently with Mjolnir' — to completely ludicrous.

"Burn down the tower."

"Plug your ears when Clint screams like a little girl."

At this point, I was almost crying from laughing so hard.

"I would —"

The elevator opened, and I broke off. Bruce stormed out, his eyes flashing green, looking straight at me.

I did what any sane person would do in this situation; in an instant I was up and moving, and my back was against the glass wall. Oh, shit. There was only one reason that Bruce would be looking at me like that.

He'd finally taken inventory of his medicine stock.

"Take it easy," Tony said firmly, but you could hear the worried undertone. What the heck was making Bruce like this? Were there intruders in the Tower?

"I'm good, I'm good," Bruce snapped, still staring at me. "But you might want to talk to your daughter about the latest schematics she's been working on. I'd love to hear an explanation about why some of my vials of benzodiazepines are missing."

Blood drained from my face. "I, um…"

"You've been using them when talking to Dr. Garner," Bruce said, making it a statement, not a question. "That's why he's been able to tell your father you've been doing so well. But that doesn't explain why there's multiple types missing. I have a guess. But I'm going to give you a chance to come clean before I suggest to your dad that he and I go downstairs and search every kilobyte of your server." His voice was forcibly calm, and somehow, it was worse than if he would have shouted.

"Bruce, what are you talking about?" Tony asked, first turning his body toward me, then his head, and finally, looking into my eyes. The way I had seen him do right before he was about to snap at Fury. He had never looked at me that way before. "Holly?"

In response to his glare, I turned around, looking at the New York cityscape instead.

"Holly," Tony said again, his voice terse. "What…?"

I dug Nova's chip out of my pocket and gripped it tight, still looking out the window. I didn't answer.

"Explain." Tony's tone was clipped, and I felt my shoulders hunch, my hands curl into fists. I'd been made. Of course I had. I lived with ultra-paranoid spies and scientists!

I clutched Nova's chip even tighter. On it was my entire server, including the file that I had tried to carefully to hide from FRIDAY. I had thought that if I hid the schematics for the device from FRIDAY, I would be safe. Tony didn't take inventory very carefully, and I had assumed that Bruce was the same way. Stupid. I should have known better. Just because there was a surplus of the benzodiazepines didn't mean that he wouldn't know exactly how many of each that he had.

"Holly Maria Stark –"

I turned around abruptly, thrust the chip out at him, and cut him off. "Here. It's all on there." I lifted my chin, matching his stubborn expression, but didn't look directly at him.

Tony took the chip, and I felt his gaze burning my face. His voice was sharper than steel as he said, "Pepper. Get Holly out of here. Just… anywhere. While I check this out." He turned on his heel and stalked toward the elevator, Bruce and Steve following close behind.

My eyes flashed to Pepper, worried about her reaction. I had been so focused on Tony, I had forgotten that Pepper was really the force to be reckoned with when it came to reckless misconduct.

But she didn't look angry, mostly confused. I didn't move, glaring down at the carpet, hands clenched into fists.

I had been so close. So close to being able to act normal.

In my peripheral vision, I registered a hand coming toward my face and flinched, throwing up my arms to protect my head before I could think. After a few seconds I got a grip, shoved my hands in my pockets, and looked up from the carpet. Pepper was there, to my right, her outstretched hand just inches from my shoulder.

"What were you just thinking about?" she asked, her voice gentle, expression relaxed.

For the first time, I realized that we were alone in the living room. I hadn't realized that anyone else had left, and I flushed, shrugging. I'd zoned out. I didn't say anything.

Pepper frowned when she realized I wasn't going to say anything. "Come on, Holly, we're going for a drive." She slowly put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it, just enough so I felt it, and steered me to the elevator

Pepper guided me to one of the black Audis with a generic license plate - one that was meant for trying to be inconspicuous. I was ashamed my shoulders were trembling. What was Tony going to think when he found it, and realized that what Bruce had said was true? That every time I had talked to Dr. Garner over the last few weeks was under the influence of a drug to keep me from panicking? Would he think I was weak? What if he was disappointed that after almost four months, I still wasn't normal?

I couldn't help but note that Pepper hesitated for a second by the door to the backseat before opening the door to the front passenger side. Usually, she had me sit in the back, so this was new.

I slid in and she shut the door, just firm enough so it was fully closed. I buckled up as she walked around to the drivers side and started the car. Pepper drove out of the garage and into the congested New York traffic, not saying anything, but turning on the heat, playing with the radio.

I looked out the window, not actually seeing the buildings flash by. God, I had screwed up. I wouldn't be admitted into the academy now, there was no way. The Avengers were already livid. FitzSimmons would be appalled that I wasn't admitted, with my brain. And if they found out what I did…

As guilt and shame exploded in the pit of my stomach, I shuddered. I hadn't realized that by being a part of a family, by having friends, I was opening myself up to a whole different type of pain. Why the hell did anyone put up with it?

Light pressure on my left hand, which was clenched on my kneecap, grounded me. My eyes flicked to Pepper, who currently had her eyes on the road. It was only then when I realized that we had to have been driving for a while – we weren't in Manhattan anymore, there weren't nearly as many city lights, and it was a lot quieter; besides the radio playing quietly in the background, I couldn't hear anything else, and there were way more trees, buildings spaced much farther apart than in the city.

"You want to tell me what Bruce was talking about?" she asked, her voice even, her eyes never leaving the road.

I clenched my fists, but sighed. Pepper didn't say anything else, instead just kept resting her hand softly on top of my clenched fist. "I just wanted to be normal," I blurted out. I kept looking at her, trying to gauge what she was thinking but her face was smooth. "I knew that I wouldn't pass the psych eval if I didn't do it."

Pepper took a right. "Do what?"

"What Bruce said," I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from her face and looking out the window again. "I was giving myself lorazepam to make myself calm before talking to Dr. Garner. It makes it easier to tell him stuff, and I could talk about Tempe and HYDRA." Something that Bruce had added suddenly registered, and the guilt I felt from lying by omission and from sneaking around tripled. I turned back to Pepper. "Did he really tell you and Tony I was doing better?"

Pepper nodded, still not looking at me. "What's on Nova's chip, Holly?"

I sighed again. She'd know anyway, as soon as we got back. Now that I wasn't so shocked about being found out, I knew that by not fessing up, I would just make things worse for myself.

I started rambling off the story at a million miles an hour, blurting out everything about my device, staring only at the dashboard. After eleven minutes, I finally shut up, tore my eyes from the glowing display, and looked at Pepper again, expecting to her angry, disgusted.

Instead, she looked exasperated, half smiling. Her hand was still on mine, and I was surprised that it had relaxed as I had talked. "Holly," she said as she merged onto the expressway, "I can't pretend that I understand everything that you just told me, because I don't speak genius, but I get the gist. You are so much like your father, it is unreal."

I hadn't expected that. "You're… not mad?"

She snorted, and her voice was suddenly hard. "Absolutely, I'm mad. I'm furious. If you were your father, I'd be shouting." She squeezed my hand before saying, "Doesn't mean that I don't love him, or you. But Holly?" She looked at me then, her face still exasperated. "You understand there is no way that you're going to the SHIELD academy any time soon now, right?"

I nodded, feeling my eyes start to burn. "I'm sorry. I know you and dad need me to go. I know I'm getting in the way."

Suddenly, she pulled over onto the side of the expressway and parked, turning down the radio so it was almost inaudible. I tensed, but before I could flinch, she told me in a firm voice, "Do not let me – or your father – hear you say that again. Because our answer has not changed and will not change. You are not a burden, you do not get in the way. If you went to that school, we would not be sending you there to get you out of the way. Okay?"

I was still reeling from the abrupt stop of the car, so it took me a few seconds to answer. Nodding, I quietly said, "Okay."

She merged back onto the expressway and turned up the radio, which was halfway through some country song. A glance at the screen told me it was by Rascal Flatts, and the song was 'My Wish'. She smiled softly at me. "I love this song."

I tried to focus on the lyrics then, so I could agree or disagree and maybe Pepper and I could have a normal conversation. But it was hard, and I couldn't help but ask quietly, "Do you think that Tony is going to be mad? I need to apologize to him when I get back."

Pepper grimaced. "I think you should wait to talk to him until tomorrow, Holly. It's pretty late –you need to get to bed. Let's just say that you are definitely grounded. And when I say grounded, I mean you're at least not getting unsupervised time in your workshop until you're at least eighteen."

I heard what she didn't say. Tony wouldn't want to talk to me. "That mad, huh?"

She sighed. "You both need the night to just think things over, okay? Just trust me. We'll get back, you go to bed, and then first thing in the morning you two can talk it out."

Tony had all but shouted at Bruce to get him to leave his workshop once he and Bruce had deciphered the schematics. Bruce, knowing that Tony was about to freak, had finally left, saying that he was going to go call Dr. Garner, that he should be aware of Holly´s latest shenanigan. A shenanigan that was actually a felony, taking Class A substances without a prescription.

Tony was… appalled. Disgusted. Ashamed. Furious. But not about Holly´s actions.

How could he not have known this, why would she not have told him how bad it was?

"Stop beating yourself up."

Tony turned, his eyes closed, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did she tell you? What she was planning on doing?" he asked Pepper.

"Yes, but I only understood half of it. It's like when you or Bruce get going."

Tony chuckled without humor. "I should have never given her a workshop, should have never –" he broke off. ¨I thought she trusted me. Why didn't she tell me?"

"Tony, stop," Pepper said, placing both of her hands firmly on his shoulders. He looked at her, his eyes dull. "Do you remember when your Arc Reactor still had a palladium core? You were dying, and you didn't tell anyone."

Tony quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're comparing —"

"Someone notify the psychologists of the world, idiotic stubbornness is genetic."

Tony ran both hands through his hair and started pacing again. "She can't turn out like me. If Bruce wouldn't have taken inventory, then she would have gone through and tried to perform brain surgery on herself! It's risky, stupid, dangerous – and exactly what I would do."

"Well then, what are we going to do about it?" Pepper asked, watching him pace.

The word ´we´ stopped him in his tracks. He turned toward her, feeling the relief that always came when he was reminded how completely in his corner she was. "I'll... I-I... I don't know…" The billionaire sighed, frustrated.