Disclaimer: I do not own anything you may recognize, for they (unfortunately) belong to Marvel/Paramount.

Author's Note: Hey there! Welcome to my first Iron Man fanfic. Please feel free to peruse, dissect, and enjoy! I am open to any constructive criticism. (:

One;

"Teresa, are you alright?"

I hated that question. After the Incident, that's all people would ask me. Are you alright? Are you okay? How are you coping? I wanted to throw something and scream at them. Do you think that I'm alright? Do you really think so?

The woman who addressed me was pleasant. She was dressed pleasantly, her voice was pleasant, and she almost always had a pleasant smile on her face. She was a caseworker, a woman whose job was to be pleasant. She smiled sympathetically at me and placed a hand on my knee.

"Would you like something to drink?"

I ignored her and stared stolidly out the window. There were kids playing outside on their lawn across the street. How could they be so happy when my world was crumbling down around me?

The caseworker sighed and stood up, her clunky heels making loud thumps on the hardwood floor. "Teresa, you must listen to me for at least ten minutes. Can you grant me that? Just ten minutes, and then I'll leave you alone."

I flicked my gaze over to her and nodded. Talk fast.

"You are a minor," she stated, and I raised my eyebrows. Really? I wasn't aware. "And that means we must either find a family member for you to stay with or a foster home. In the event that we cannot find a family member, we will place you in a suitable home. Do you have any known relatives that might take you in?"

My mind was whirring. There were no relatives here in Boston that I knew of. My mother - a large seam seemed to open in my heart and I nearly bent over in pain - didn't have any siblings and her parents are long gone. Maybe her parents had some sort of siblings, but for all I knew they could be living in Alaska or something. And my father, ha, that deadbeat prick. I didn't even know him, so that wasn't an option.

"By your silence I'm assuming that you don't know of anyone," said the caseworker, "so we must put you in a foster home."

Wonderful.

"Your mother's funeral will take place on the fifth…"

At this point, I tuned her out. I returned my gaze to the window and saw that the children across the street had gone inside. They were probably being served lemonade by their mother, told they were loved and asked if they had a good time.

Tears stung my eyes and I fought desperately against them. Not here. Do not show weakness.

"Teresa?" The caseworker peered concernedly at me. "Do you need a moment?"

I stood abruptly and walked out of the living room. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could and disappeared into my room, where peace and quiet prevailed and where prying questions and sympathy were not allowed.

I threw myself onto my bed and buried my face into my pillow. The tears finally streamed from my eyes and I snuffled into my pillow.

It had only been a week, but it felt like three months. A flurry of caseworkers, grief coaches, and sympathetic friends and teachers had filled that week. All I wanted was a time to grieve, alone, without anyone bothering me. I wanted time to brood over my guilt.

Another thing I hated was the phrase, "It's not your fault." That only worked in Good Will Hunting and I didn't have the arms of Robin Williams to fall and cry into. It was my fault, it always will be my fault, and there was nothing to change that. If I hadn't argued with my mother over attending M.I.T. in the fall, she would've been paying attention and would've seen that driver hurtling towards us at ninety miles an hour. And if she had seen that drunken son of bitch, she could've swerved out of the way and she would still be here.

I clutched my bedspread in both fists and allowed my body to calm down. I shook and sniffed and my nose was running like a marathon runner. I sat up, quivering, and snatched the box of tissues off the nightstand. I quickly mopped myself up, blew my nose and winced as my ribs shot pins-and-needles pain through my side.

There was a sharp rap on the door. "Terry, honey? You in there?"

I stood and threw the door open to my best friend, Paulie. "I'm surprised the caseworker let you in," I said sullenly.

Paulie ignored me and simply wrapped his huge arms around me. I snuggled my face into the warm crook of his neck and breathed in; his cologne alone was enough to calm me down. Paulie had been my best friend for years - he put up with all my quirkiness.

"How's my favorite genius?" he asked, gently settling onto the bed and placing me beside him. He brushed some brown hair away from my eyes. "How's your ribcage?"

In the accident, I had four cracked ribs and a sprained wrist. How I had gotten away with those meaningless injuries and my mother lost her life only added to my guilt.

"Adequate for survival," I mumbled. I leaned against him. "They're going to put me in a foster home."

"Oh, dear." He kissed the top of my head. "You don't have any other relatives?"

"Nope." I glanced around my room and saw Gwen, my little robotic pal. She was my first invention, a tiny, mobile WALL-E look alike who helped keep my room clean and kept my homework neat, since I have a habit of spilling various liquids over important documents.

"Hi, Gwen," greeted Paulie, just to make me chuckle.

The little robot beeped and closed her eyes happily.

"Hey!" said Paulie suddenly with such enthusiasm it startled me and Gwen. "Why don't you come and live with me? My 'rents won't mind! Since Jonas moved out, you can have his room."

I straightened, brightened by this possibility. Moving in with my best friend would probably be the best thing that could happen to me at that point in my life, and his family would definitely help me move out of the depressive hole I was currently digging myself into. In about five seconds, I had made my decision and we were racing down to tell the caseworker.

"Forget about the foster home," I said, "I'm going to move in with Paul Angello's family."

The caseworker appeared quite shocked that I was speaking to her, since I hadn't in all the time I knew her. "Well, I…suppose that can be arranged."

"Awesome," I replied, "do I have to sign anything? Do Paulie's parents have to sign anything?"

The caseworker looked through her paperwork, mumbling to herself. I caught snippets of words, like "time," and "paperwork," and "background checks." She took several sheets of paper out of the pile she had on the table and handed them to Paulie.

"I'm going to have to meet your family," she said, "and talk to them about this. But for right now I think that it would be good for Teresa to be away from here."

I stiffened. I didn't want to be taken away from my home, even though staying over at Paulie's would be nice. This was the last place I had spent time with my mother before the accident, when things were good. I didn't want to leave Gwen or my other inventions for anyone to take a look at.

"Terry." Paulie's deep voice had found its way to my ear. "Pack a bag and I'll take you home, okay? It'll only be for a few nights, and then we'll come back for the rest of your stuff. Cool?"

I nodded, feeling like a robot. I walked slowly back up the stairs, my legs moving on their own accord. My torso burned from the activity, and I wished that I could have some more of those painkillers that the doctors prescribed. I reached my room and walked dazedly in, trying to remember where I put a travel bag.

"Gwen," I said, and the little robot perked up, "do you know where my travel bag is?"

She made a series of beeps and pointed a square finger at the closet.

"Of course. Thanks, bud." I opened the door and reached for the red and gold duffel bag at the top of the shelf.

I began shoving anything I could find into the bag. A change of clothes, underwear, a bra, socks and shoes. I grabbed my iPod, my sketchbook and a notebook where I kept my designs and notes, and I took Gwen's traveling case out from under my desk.

(You must understand that Gwen is about as big as a grown man's fist. I had to design her small, because my mother would have a heart attack if something too big went whizzing around the house all the time. And, this way, Gwen could stay in my room and not be so much of a hassle.)

"Do you mind?" I asked her, opening the case. She beeped, but didn't look offended, and I picked her up. "See you in a few. Sleep, why don't you?"

She beeped twice, waved her hands in farewell, and then folded into a tiny box.

I placed her into the case and closed it. I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder and then remembered my skateboard. It was specially designed from a skate shop in the city; it had my name, graffiti-style on the top in funky colors, and it rolled beautifully over the pavement. I didn't really use it for tricks; it was more of a transportation device until I got my own car. But after the accident, I don't think I'll ever get into another car.

With my skateboard under one arm and Gwen's traveling case in the other, I took one last look at my room. I sighed; I would be back here soon enough, and that's when I'd worry about the waterworks. I shut the door and thumped down the stairs.

"Ready?" asked Paulie, and I nodded. He took the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.

I waved a half-hearted goodbye to the caseworker, who followed us out and locked the door behind her. She went in one direction, and we went in the other.

"My mom's going to be so happy to have another girl in the house," Paulie was saying, "after Jonas moved out, it was me and dad against her. One less boy, but still…"

By the way he was rambling, I knew he was just trying to fill up the silence. Our silences weren't usually awkward, but after the accident and my tendency to randomly burst into tears, he tried very hard not to let silence fall between us. I guess that's good of him, but after a while, it got annoying.

"Hey, Paulie," I interrupted his babbling about the Red Sox, "shush."

He smiled. "Is my chattering too much for you?"

"Yes." I dropped my skateboard and put one foot on it. I pushed off and glided past him, not going too fast so that he could keep up.

We traveled quietly from then on, Paulie respecting my request to be quiet. All I could hear was the rumble of my skateboard wheels on the cement and my thoughts. Your fault, your fault, they seemed to sing, all your fault.

I pushed the nuisances aside and managed to smile when we arrived at Paulie's house. I always liked his house because it was like mine: warm, friendly, open. His mother and father were two of the nicest people in the entire world, and although I haven't talked to Jonas in quite some time, I knew him when I was a kid and he was just as nice as the rest of his family.

"Mom?" he called when he unlocked the door and we headed inside, "You home?"

"In the kitchen, hun," his mother called back. "Is that an extra pair of feet I hear? Could that be Teresa?"

"Hi, Mrs. Angello," I said quietly when I got to the kitchen door, "how's it going?"

I was ready for it, but when she flashed that full-on sympathetic expression at me, I had to fight back the tidal wave of emotion that crashed over me. I stiffened, stood up straight and allowed her to hug me.

The warmth of her body, the tenderness with which she held me, made me cry again. I ached, in both a physical sense and an emotional sense.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, my voice choked by tears and snot and emotion, "I'm sorry… how embarrassing."

Mrs. Angello pulled away from me, and much like her son did, she gently brushed hair away from my eyes. "You are entitled, Teresa," she said softly, "what happened to you is something a teenage girl should never have to go through." She tenderly wiped the tears from my face and continued, "Do you want something to drink?"

I sat down at the kitchen table as she bustled around, getting drinks for all of us. I scrubbed at my eyes and took a few calming breaths. That was the last time I would cry today.

Mrs. Angello set a glass of iced tea in front of me. I smiled gratefully and took a sip. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," she said, waving me away. "Now what's going on with you? Have you been speaking to the children's services?"

"Unfortunately, yes." I fixed my gaze onto the tabletop, avoiding both of their eyes. "I've got no relatives here in Boston, so Paulie…" I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows - did he want to tell his mother about our plan?

"Mom," he began, "would you mind if Teresa stayed with us for a while? Or maybe, for a long while?"

Way to be articulate, buddy.

"Of course Teresa can stay here!" his mother exclaimed. "What kind of a person do you think I am? She can have Jonas's old room. Don't worry," she added, turning her brown eyes on me, "I'll change the sheets and spray some air freshener - you know how boys are."

A giggle escaped and I had to hold myself back from bursting into uncontrollable, manic laughter. Jeez, my emotions need to take a vacation. I need to take a vacation. Far, far away from here.

I spent the day with Paulie, just hanging out, keeping my mind off things. We watched mindless reality shows, ate junk food until our stomachs hurt and talked about starting our junior year in September. Well, he talked about starting his junior year - I was simply reminded of the fact that I would be going to M.I.T. in the fall, and thus started the chain of thoughts I'd been trying to avoid since the episode with Paulie's mother in the kitchen.

Thankfully this time, I didn't cry.

By eight o'clock, I was exhausted. I asked Mrs. Angello if I could go to bed.

"Go right ahead," she said, "I changed the sheets and sprayed some Oust. Sleep well, sweetheart." She smiled kindly at me.

I said goodnight to Paulie and then escaped to Jonas's room. It was nearly unrecognizable - all of Jonas's posters had been taken down and the sheets were a bright pink; definitely not something that Jonas would have in his room. Gwen's carrying case was in the corner, along with my skateboard and my duffel bag.

After washing up and changing into pajamas, I collapsed onto the bed. I was physically exhausted (and my ribs were on fire) but my mind was working a million miles a minute. New invention ideas, flashes of the accident, worries about the future, and wondering how long the Angellos will be able to stand me filled my mind. I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable.

I heard Paulie's heavy footfalls on the stairs around eleven, and the quieter footsteps of his mother and father as they retired around midnight.

By one AM, it seemed that my mind had tired itself out and I fell into a restless slumber.

Thanks so much for reading! If you found it boring, I promise it'll pick up soon. (: -Jay