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The White Dove Pt 32 - Pie of Death

Have the back end of this series planned out, still no final chapter number yet, but the fun and drama saga continues. Did seem to get a kick of interest on ao3 by adding a doomed pairing with Gwen there over just found family and sibling bond with Eddie Brock and Venom. And this is where the doomed tag kicks in so those looking for a pairing to kick in here ya go.

Always let me know if you want to be added or removed from tag lists. :)

The White Dove Masterlist

*.*.*

Grant Ward really wasn’t of any consequence at all to Hydra and where he failed as a double agent upon trying to interfere with your life ten more could easily be promoted within SHIELD to take his place.

No, what you wanted to do was stir the hornet’s nest. You knew if they found the right Siberian base the assets there would be annihilated to prevent your turning any more of them and any devices and trace of paperwork found would be an encrypted dead end to nowhere. But this was trouble, not SHIELD investigating but you interfering, and if you stirred up enough of it then they would unveil their only assumed weapon against you. They would have to do what they didn’t want to do, let him loose.

Bucky Barnes was the last and finest weapon in their arsenal but he came with a string attached, if they unleashed him you could turn him too and then where would they be? He was their finest unmatched weapon to rival Captain America to turn the tides of the world living in shadows and without him they knew against you both they were sitting ducks. So they would hold out as long as they could and keep him hidden until the moment was right to send him after you, hopefully mind wiped enough to not recall his most prized pupil. They would hold out and you would keep turning up the heat until you’d find yourself at that bridge with him on the other side of it to find out how that meeting was set to go.

“Come on Star Boy,” you muttered to yourself in the snow littered moonlit walk to the subway on your way home after closing up the book shop. Using the nickname he had chosen for you to use as a means to taunt him in training to help distinguish time with him on missions and when you were aimed against one another. Lost to trickling memories of those times in between missions where you him and Cooper were almost contently in a cordial sense of ease together as a team. All now mingled with questions of how that ease might have come from lurking memories from him on the meeting before that with Chickadee. And you simply hoped his release would be sooner rather than later, if not for your sakes than for the family awaiting news on him.

“Never strike first,” his voice echoed in your ears with wrapped fist raised blended with countless lessons to break your habit of flinching, “Watch me. Avert, then use their force against them. Do not strike first, watch always. Let them think you don’t stand a chance.”

Rapidly in a mumble beside you after slipping there between classes Peter asked, “You care to study?” For an hour now you had been thwarting questions and comments from more popular students on the evening out and when you looked at the teen now clearing his throat he clarified in the scan of his eyes over the hall, reminding you of animated men who sell wares inside of a trench coat. “Having a study, thing, at my place.” And he added, “Tonight.”

“Okay.”

To the note in his raised hand your eyes shifted in collecting it from him then up again as he released it to mumble, “Aunt’s making quesadillas,” then stepped away to flow back into the crowd.

The narrow of your eyes had a snicker sound a few feet away luring your eyes to Michelle Jones from your decathlon team who shut her locker and came closer to you, “That was smoother than how he asked me,” she pointed to the note, “His address, if you didn’t catch it. Haven’t got a tally but I can guess Flash isn’t invited.”

“I wouldn’t welcome him to my home if he called me penis either,” you said making her chuckle to the joint slip away to head to your classes.

“Is it customary to bring food to study groups where food is mentioned?” you asked Ned, who you assumed to be invited as well being Peter’s best friend.

His lips parted releasing a soft crack followed by his answer, “For Peter’s tonight?” to your nod he said, “You don’t have to. His aunt sort of takes it as a challenge and cooks more.”

“Okay, thank you,” and after a moment of awkward pause you turned to head to your next class so he could grin to himself and go share with Peter your question at their next shared class.

“Working today?” You were asked by the wide eyed Gwen on your way past the library in the shared walk to classes across one another in a distant hall. Her having popped up out of nowhere just how Peter had, and no less nervous, making you curious on what she would be expecting of you.

“Not till after sunset.”

She nodded and asked, “Coffee, again?”

“I got asked to a study group,” you answered causing her grin to flinch to a momentary pout.

“Oh.”

“I have hair and nail appointments tomorrow and I was going to drop by some shops,” sharply she gasped and you looked up at her and her spreading smile mid bounce on her feet.

“Oh that sounds like fun, and you go right after practice?”

“When I’ve dropped off my bags or I tend to bump into things, and the salons like as little clutter as possible.”

“Cool,” she said then asked, “You live close by? I mean, you go here, you must live nearby. Is it nice, your place?”

“It’s all mainly just one room but it suits my needs. Bet your place is nice.”

“Mom likes it, we have white walls,” she said with a head tilt to the side, “I’d prefer more color but she lets me tack up a few posters.”

“I have wallpaper with stick on magnet strips, almost had a row with my landlord when he first saw it but he calmed down seeing it could be removed without scarring the walls.”

“Okay, I’ll walk with you after practice, it’s a date,” she said excitedly then backtracked, “Or, not a date, but a plan, right,” and with a nod and smile she turned to walk off. All you could do was to turn down the same way to head to your close classrooms and now mentally come to terms your alone pampering time was now spoiled. But you hoped that perhaps in the means of making a new friend sacrificing one would be a tolerable exchange. However if this was going to become a pattern than things would have to be assessed to find a new time to be alone without holing up inside your apartment. Maybe like the aquarium or new astronomy tower that advertised half off days now. Surely it’d be crowded, but at least then you could vanish in numbers while enjoying yourself in discovery of new or at least interesting things.

“Then we have to head to this museum and make a report on it,” Ned said glancing your way as Harry cut in.

“You been to the new exhibit yet? We could go together, make a day of it.” Harry asked and you lowered your drink.

“Kind of a busy week,” you answered and suggested about Ned and Peter, “Maybe they might like to make a day of it. Could help you brainstorm your papers.”

Peter nodded and said, “Groups do sound more fun.” The trio came gradually to an agreement on the plan of their outing. And for the rest of your time in Midtown you kept your mind mainly locked on tasks to complete until again in the open air you were freed to return to Columbia for the tests you were due to take there.

“Seventh floor,” you sighed and took a step at a time, finding halfway Flash who was taking a break to catch his breath. “Didn’t know you were invited Franklin.”

For the fifth time this week you had called him by a name other than his chosen moniker and promptly his head turned for him to say, “Can’t have a Decathlon study group without the best on the team. Parker’s trying to best me he’ll have to work twice as hard to keep me from finding out about a party.” His eyes dropped to the pie resting on your palm, “You brought a pie?”

“Neighbor gave it to me and I’m allergic, Peter eats bananas on his way in.”

“And it’s Flash, you keep forgetting my name.” he said as you kept on moving almost unfazed by the weight of the bags you had and the pie through your toe top trot up the numerous flights of steps.

“I never forget a name,” you said making his lips part, “For some of us our name is all we have left, given of our parents.” That had his mouth close and brows furrow in thought remaining as close to your pace as possible. Right up to the proper door you led the way and knocked, hearing voices and noise on the other side of the wooden barrier. Within moments, like a young Jason Isaacs, a brown haired blue eyed man peered down at you both then smiled widely at you as you said, “You must be the husband.”

“Thank you, all the time at games it’s Death Eater this or Captain Hook that. Swear that man is not going to let me have a moment’s peace with my own face.” Gesturing at your hand he said, “You brought pie,”

“Ya, sorry, allergic and my neighbor gave it to me. But Peter eats bananas.”

“So do we, welcome and I will take your pie of death,” he jokingly said, taking hold of the desert and looked over Flash who gave him a quick grin and nod.

“Flash.”

“Ah, the penis proclaimer himself.” Ben closed the door and aimed you both in farther, “Peter’s in the living room.”

“Who brought pie?” May could be heard saying in the kitchen, having clearly taken the pie as a challenge of treats until hearing of the allergy that had you bring it here to be eaten by someone out of propriety to not be seen allowing it to go to waste.

“Hey,” Ned and Peter said excitedly upon seeing you until they noticed Flash then added, “You brought Flash.”

“He was hyperventilating on the stairs.” You said. Moving closer to take a seat on the couch Ned plopped back onto in the teen’s scoff.

“I was not hyperventilating. That’s a lot of stairs.”

“I climb three times that to get to my place.” You replied.

And MJ on the chair beside you said, “No wonder you’re in such good shape.”

Flash said, “How do neither of your buildings have elevators?”

“Dude, this place is practically a landmark, built in the 30’s.” Ned answered.

The uncle was back and said with a grin to you about the variety of drinks available on the tray in his hands, “We got a spread, none have bananas.”

“Thank you,” you said accepting the grape flavored juice you’d been meaning to try but it was a tad too expensive to justify buying the ten pack it came in.

“Ben, by the way, heard a great deal about you, young Pluto.”

“No he hasn’t,” Peter said sharply, making you smirk in the move of the tray for Flash to accept his own choice then went back to the kitchen again.

“Snacks will be out shortly.”

And Flash said as you settled the drink on top of the bag atop your lap to open the twist cap, “Your dad’s super chill. Mine hovers when I have company.”

And Peter said to Ned’s sideways glance his way, “Ben’s my uncle,”

“Oh,” Flash said, “He lives here too? My Gramps lived with us for a month and my parents just about split after the fights he stirred up for how modern Mom is.”

Peter simply explained, “My parents were found legally dead few years back, left me with my aunt and uncle when I was five after someone broke into our house.” That had Flash simply register what you meant about the name comment earlier mid glance your way that had Peter, MJ and Ned look between you both.

“Who likes finger foods?!” May asked excitedly, “I can also call out for food if any of this is dangerous for you all.” And she said to you, “Thank you for the pie.”

“You brought pie?” MJ asked a bit confused at how they seemed to be so fond of you.

“Neighbors keep bringing me food when I work long hours on long stretches. Sometimes they’re recipes I’m allergic to and I have to get creative.”

“Why?” Flash asked.

“Most likely because I’m an immigrant child who lives alone and worry about my safety even if we don’t pass on pleasantries in the halls, dropping off food and making sure I’m not alone during deliveries is the easiest way to show you care without flagrant show of attention to a comfortable stranger.”

Snacks soon shifted to conversation on trivia for various topics. A ring from MJ’s pocket triggered the wave of visitors back home again. And now at least in the night air you were able to head back home. Able to get some supper whipped up before bed to rest for the ruined pampering evening. Routines filled with reminders to not show how spoiled you felt it was to Gwen who already was frightened by the men shadowing your path the last time you went for coffee.

Mid pout the same blonde who had taken over your plans later found your path into the school the next morning. Before you could even say hello she voiced the name of her irritation. “My Mom is insisting she has to come today.”

“Well parents do tend to not trust me. I live alone.” You answered.

Causing her jaw to drop and she stammered out, “I trust you. And, I think she trusts me,” her brows furrowed in thought a moment, “I mean, I am trustable. Only almost smothered my baby brothers in a tent mishap once when I was younger.” And she shook her head, “But that tent set got recalled, so it wasn’t really my fault.” A few times she blinked looking down at you and blurted out, “I trust you. She’s, just,”

“Being a mother,” you finished her sentence for her.

“Yes,” she said with a nod and raised a hand to mess with the end of her ponytail that had fallen onto her chest. “I think I might get some blue in my hair. Technically the school dress code doesn’t say anything about hair color. Did you want some color too?”

“Um,” you said recalling the times in Hydra’s control they tried to bleach and dye your hair only for it to be black again after you lit up. “I had some bad reactions when they tried to lighten my hair in Russia, took a while to grow it back again.”

“Oh, my cousin had a stylist burn her hair off one time, just awful. Worst I had was a woman gave me a bob when I was six, hacked off all my hair my mom was furious, had been growing my hair out for years to match on family pictures for holiday cards.” With you she had turned and continued to ramble on until you had to split up for first classes.

“Hmm,” you sighed at the sight of the notice your first class at Columbia had been canceled for a family emergency. Right around you turned and instead of heading for the library you simply went to sit on a wrap around staircase to the building that held your next class to not be far away. Across a broad step notes and books were settled as you leaned sideways against your bag to recline against an arm. Lost to focus the chill of the white steps through your coat and torn jeans had all bit been forgotten.

A loud roar on your right had you glance up from said notes mid chew on an orange you had in your bag to snack on between classes. Hulk free of a conference on the other side of Manhattan in a sea of scattering students he’d bounded off a building across the street to land in the open courtyard they were crossing turned to look over his surroundings. Off of him back to your notes focus turned to complete the thought inside your head onto the page. Over your side a shadow fell and oddly for him the Hulk was drawn to the one figure who hadn’t run from his imposing self. And beyond what was assumed the gama radiated side of the brilliant Bruce Banner came to hear what you were working on. By the minute growing more interested within the animal genetic based literature you voiced to him and explained why you were reading it.

Both tone and demeanor visibly calmed the giant and for the view of the approaching SHIELD handlers come to fetch him he began to shrink. Shirtless in the chilly air the scientist with hint of the fruit flavor still on his tongue of what you had shared with the Hulk blinked while accepting the spare flannel shirt you had pulled out of your bag. “Thank you,” he said hastily tugging it on. Up at the duo on their way to speak to him he looked and then said without looking back at you. “I’ll um, wash it and send it back to you.” Onto his bare feet he rose. To hurry across the frigid stone steps and pathway to get inside the vehicle meant to take him back from where he had been scared enough by a sudden flash side effect to a project he was asked to assist on while Reed Richards and Stark were busy. Lost entirely on the odd feeling he had upon shifting back, unlike other times had the Hulk more at ease than exhausted as he was after a fight or frenzied scare luring him out again.

Twice down your apartment steps you had to fix the back of your open toed flats usually donned for pedicure days. The hair salon was first, outside of which you saw Gwen’s smile spread upon sight of you. The blonde at her side even taller than the lanky teen looked your curly haired self in a step over a seated small service dog in wait of the street light to change so they could cross with their companion. “Hello, Mrs Stacy,” you said. Breaking the silence to the maroon jumpsuit clad woman; who had tight hold of her bag either out of nerves or fear of being mugged.

“Hello Pluto. You come here often?”

“Regularly, my stylist from Russia works here.”

That had her brow arch up in confusion. “Are they famous?”

“She has done a few competitions and helped with a model agency this spring. However fame is subjective concerning the hierarchy of it.”

“I was able to have an appointment last month with Frederic Fekkai, quite elusive to catch him with an open slot.” She said and you nodded out of confusion on what to say.

“Looks good,” you said making her grin to herself. “Just getting a trim myself,” you said to break the silence of her quiet moment then took a step to the door to not be late.

“I’m still going blue,” Gwen blurted out in a verbal jut of her tongue at her mother as in a final say on an ongoing argument concerning that topic. While not exclusive the warm conversation in Russian with your stylist during the process of combing, spraying and trimming your stubborn curls had Helen Stacy questioning the bond between you. Gwen proudly came out with a few streaks of navy blue in her blonde hair now braided to accent the new change, while you exited proudly with just a couple unnoticeable inches lighter.

“My car is over here,” the vehicle being a gift from her husband at his promotion to Captain showed her reasoning behind liking the few splurges involved financially lately. Directions were given from the backseat by you to the nail salon she chose the best spot and parked enabling you all to climb out after the child locks released. Silence was a chosen way to gain confidence from parents on not being a threat to their child. Much like Hydra well behaved and not too boisterous children were often given more space than those who could cause damage or disturbances in public. She however kept looking at you sideways. Perhaps out of stories she heard from her husband you knew well as your other self upon tasks you had aided him in either willingly or by chance of a certain vigilante the public knew to be a friend of yours.

Inside the same stylist you used smiled and welcomed you back stating openly, “Ah, I see you have female company. Tell that brother of yours we have new shipment of rhinestones for his next visit.” To yourself you giggled following her to the station while two other ladies came to help Gwen and Helen to the pedicure stations beside yours. Both who eyed the green bruise on the underside of one of your feet the woman chuckled at your lack of reaction to pressing on the painful nuisance out of your trip to the past.

There to the manicure stands Gwen kept the conversation going to not let the chaperone ruin a fluid conversation with you. Sight of the first second hand shop didn’t smooth Helen’s nerves any being so out of her usual outing rounds. “I still don’t think it’s long enough.”

Topic of her youngest brother being grounded and under watch of their father had Helen in Gwen’s dart to another rack to check something she saw ask you, “Your foster family in Russia, did they ever ground you for poor test grades?”

“I failed an evaluation on diving efficiency when I was nine, they broke my femur. Told me if I failed again they would break my other leg. So no, they never grounded me.”

Wide open her jaw fell to your absent minded step aside to look at the next section of the rack your eyes had been fixed upon the whole time. “And what happened?”

“I passed.”

“To them,” she said debating if she should touch you or not now knowing why she had been sensing a withdrawn personality behind a wall with this new object of her daughter’s attentions.

“They killed themselves when I left Russia.”

“In custody?” she asked expectantly, hoping that you had received justice from such despicable treatment.

And up at her face your eyes looked to answer, “No. Very influential people. But you can’t convict dead bodies.”

Back to the rack you looked and she stepped closer to say lowly, “If, you need to talk about it, I know very reliable resources.”

“My brother got me in therapy.” Up at her you looked and asked, “Were you a hamster child or a puppy child?”

“I, what?” she stammered out making Gwen smirk in her return with a cool sweater in hand.

“Did you have a puppy or a hamster? I have a theory working on the effect of the size of pets upon certain developmental aspects of the brain in children in relation to the development of the pet’s brain in response to adult vs child caregivers.”

“She had a tank of clams actually,” Gwen said in amusement luring your eyes over to her. “Grandpa worked on boats, brought her some for a project.”

“Water filtration,” her mother clarified.

“Filter feeders are quite intriguing actually, while barnacles are quite a nuisance. Had to soak and scrape what felt like a mile off my ship I found.” Making the pair of them chuckle and Gwen warm up seeing her mom had started to try to warm up to you after just a small break apart.

Weekly games would carry out and to Harry’s delight his father actually did attend his games, or at least the back half of them and was amply pleased at the new gust of life into the scoreboard. Compared to the prior season it was minor gains. All the same they were racking in more wins to a near streak as it inched closer to October. Traces of threat for you had the daily shadowing back to weekly secretive check ins while Cooper insisted on continuing gym trips to bump into you. Though that was mainly to see how you were pushing the Osborn boy along on his path to improved physique.

So today alone without need to hurry back for Decathlon or Color Guard you intended to enjoy your time alone. At least until you saw Lt Colonel Rhodes and Nick Fury waiting for you outside your last class at Columbia.

“Pluto, sorry to drop in, busy?” Rhodey asked and into your bag you eased your now closed notebook.

Fury said, “Found some unpleasant news for you.”

“All you need is a taxi cab behind you two and this is straight out of a WW2 film of a death notice delivery.” That had their lips part and you said, “I’ve grown familiar with a look of someone telling me something revolving around death. Believe it or not it’s all in the nose.”

Fury said, “There’s a diner nearby, we’ll buy, you like milkshakes? Bit crazy about them myself.” His head ticked to the side, “Probably ‘cuz this white man back when I was a kid refused to sell me and my friends malts in his shop. Nearly beat my best friend into a coffin once, since the always jump at a chance to have a milkshake.”

The creeping grin on your face had his turn halt a moment, you said, “Had a feeling we had matching humor. You’re an odd one too.” That had him chuckle and continue turning to guide you to the nearby diner.

Orders were given and out of his pocket Rhodey pulled a folded picture of you taken not long before your escape from Russia. “One of our friends picked up a tip on Barnes, led us to a hidden bunker, where we found some of your friends.” He pointed out the girls who had been found.

“We weren’t friends,” you said parting his lips, “If we made friends they kill one us,” the words had them both let out a breath of air to keep from interrupting the stoic stare filled share of information. “More like people who share a bus stop, you memorize patterns to be able to recognize the usual herd, know who to keep near to, who to stay away from.”

You pointed at one making them lean in, “She said once she wanted to be buried at sea so she could swim with whales.” You pointed at another, “She used to always name her dance roles Ellianna, and this one always pretended she liked the grapefruit we were given but used to spread stolen packs of sour candy powder on the slices.”

Making the guys smirk at the bits of information on this group of girls no one bothered to notice was missing prior to the manhunt when they vanished the night you did. They wouldn’t be buried with names as their real birth names couldn’t be discovered and Fury refused to name them by what Hydra had marked down. But each coffin would have something of a token left based on what you shared with them for the funeral that wouldn’t be public aside from the team there to handle the job on secret military land far beyond public view. All except for the plot free grave marker for the girl whose ashes were spread at sea as per her shared wishes.

This wasn’t the last group of children found harmed by Hydra’s various dastardly deeds and they would be in good company of other children inside the plot of land designated with room to spare for more to be added later on when discovered.

“How’d you know to run?” Fury couldn’t help but asked and you simply looked up at him to answer. “Catch a feeling about someone who crossed your path? Always curious how people escape from captive situations.”

“I made them trust me. Eight years, I made myself a magnificent liar. They didn’t bother to close the door when the call came in my pretend sister and I were being moved after our next ballet rehearsal. I just walked right out the door with a small bag of my things.” And for all the truth to your words both of the men for what they assumed you could have gone through didn’t dare to dream of ever calling you a liar as what you did was to survive those years to be here in front of them. After a moment of recalling that girl who cried so hard when a surgery changed her mismatched eyes of one blue and one brown to matching blue and spent the next few years scribbling on the formerly brown eye in all her pictures you broke the silence that left them a bit uneasy.

“They really shouldn’t have picked me. Every brown eye has an under layer of blue, so with a laser you can change their eye color. There are jokes, there would be a market for parents who want purple eyed babies.” You said causing them to force their jaws to clench and prevent gaping at you, “No matter what they could have tried to hide me, there’s no mistaking my father’s eyes and hair, or my mother’s face. Her left eye used to be brown,” you said tapping the picture over your fake sister’s face. “She has an older sister she never met, Yelena.”

“Belova?” Fury asked you, blurting out the name that kicked a bell in his brain to go off.

“No, that one only has brothers. This one sounded Israeli. Used to repeat Esther Sapphire under her breath. I couldn’t take her with me, she was older, we only met at breakfast, her room was on the other side of the house.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Rhodey said and asked you when you pushed the picture back at him to make room for the food so he could pocket it. “How’s the ship going?”

“Thank you,” you said to the waitress reminding them to do the same and began to answer. Warming up the mood greatly by your increased smile.

Pt 33

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