I found a real published fan fiction at the library today...practically. About a teenage girl who was rescued by Natasha... I dunno, I haven't finished it yet.

Anyways on with the story!!

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The question lingered in the chill of the morning air. From his spot of warmth within the soft tangle of crisp sheets, Percy was silent. He let the question hover like fog, leaving the Avengers to only imagine the possible answer.

It was getting on their nerves, and he could tell.

He took a shaky breath and fingered the hem of his sweatshirt. Drowsiness had overtaken his features, his mind blasting on overdrive. They knew he wouldn't reply, so why did they stare at him so deliberately. His throat felt dry, prickling at the back of his tongue. He wasn't going to reply, they should have expected that. His brain seared with the sharp fragments of his broken memory's, and it was all he could do to keep them hidden away in the folds of his bitter resentment.

His eyes flickered obstinately towards the man who called himself his uncle. Tony kept his features passive, but Percy could detect the worry pooling at the corner of his eyes. They both acknowledged as their gazes locked that the general concern was not at all towards his nephew, but rather if he made the right decision. Did he choose the rightful choice fulfilling his job? Letting his nephew be questioned? His mind tumbled with unanswered questions. The ones he knew that he only had too wait too understand what he had inflicted. Of course he couldn't take back his decision, what was done was done. Percy saw through the thin web of facade. Past what everyone assumed. The man didn't care about him, no weak lie could hide that.

No one cared for him.

Not any-

Suddenly, almost unconsciously; his arms jerked, gliding to form a cradle against his chest. A sharp pain prodded the depths of his mind as his eyes dropped to his arms.

But they were empty.

He jerked up, the drowsiness no longer apparent in his eyes. The sheets suddenly felt like ropes, grabbing at his ankles as he tried to move. Twisting themselves like tree roots, clinging to his body. His mind shifted, the lights glittering against the shiny metal hand gun at Fury's side. The world seemed fuzzy, his visions buzzing like white noise on a station to far out of reach. The sheets still clung to his frozen body.

Like ropes.

Ropes.

His mind blanked, pulling him under his memory waves, the dark water churning and frothy, pulling him deeper.

A proper family once more.

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Why-Why did he listen when they told him they wouldn't tie him down.

Why did he let them take his daughter away?

They broke their promise like he broke his.

We're staying together. You're not getting away from me. Never again.

He lied.

They lied.

Everyone lied.

The inky dark water swirled, the lights throbbing at the surface tunneling above him. Slowly he felt his body drifting away, misty substance pouring from his figure. The darkness seemed to overtake him, he no longer felt burdened. The water beckoned him deeper.

He felt free.

Suddenly his body was jerked from the depths of the waves. Like a heavy stone crushing him, his memory flooded back, the burden returning.

He was thrown back on the bed, strong arms shaking him, pulling him back to reality, his mind returning to his problem.

He pulled away from Steve, the figures slowly blotting into focus. He reached down and pulled the sheets from his legs with ease. Steve tried to grab his arm, but his thin frame slipped through. He ran a few yards away, his feet hitting the Laminate floors with a dull thud. Fury raised his gun, Natasha's hand slipped into her holster. The group still crowded around the bed though it was solitude and empty.

"I suggest you return to the bed Jackson, before things have to get violent." Fury leveled the gun to eye level, his one eye shifting to stare straight at Percy. He didn't seem to care that Percy was seventeen, still a minor, he would let a bullet pierce his skin if he had too.

Percy's back was towards them, his legs spread apart with tension. The light of the widow was casting a rectangle of light at his feet, contrasting his shadow. Nobody moved. The room was silent.

Steve suddenly stepped forward his eyes filling with understanding. Some Point between Percy's PTSD attack and his awakening, the captain had changed to sweatpants and a white crew neck t-shirt. Against the rest of the crews outfits; his stuck out like a sore thumb.

"She's in the cradle." His voice was strained. The rest of the groups gaze fell upon the miniature metal bed Tony had fastened the night before. Of course it was after the hectic that had occurred and it was pretty rushed. But it still shone in the morning sun, a red and gold iron man face molded into the side (a personal detail that Tony had added).

Percy turned his eyes focused directly on Fury as he lifted his foot...and deliberately took a step. The sarcasm that would have been apparent wasn't the only thing that stunned the worlds mightiest heroes. But the fact that fury leveled the gun and shot a bullet at Percy was shocking.

Of course it obviously didn't hit him, Fury merely aimed the bullet at the wooden floor between his feet. But it was enough to draw everyone's attention to the matter at hand.

"He's underage." Steve muttered, his voice echoing in the looming silence.

"Yes he is Cap, but his file was just a extreme as a overage assassin." Fury replied. "And I will do well to treat him as any other criminal."

Tony stared with disbelief. "He's not a criminal."

"He might as well be."

During this time, Percy had taken the liberty to slip silently to the cradle undetected by the 'worlds mightiest heroes'. He stared down at the porcelain face of his daughter, her dark lips parted in her sleep and he started to crumble. He could feel his heart clenching, burning into ashes. His only life line a child.

His promise.

He slipped his arms around her, pulling her deeper into his chest. Her hair brushed against his chin, her soft fingers closing around the folds of his sweatshirt. Percy choked on his breath, and slowly walked back to the bed.

The movement seemed to Notify the avengers of his arrival. They halted their heated argument and glanced at the boy seated at the edge of the mattress. Fury slipped his gun into his holster and glanced from the cradle to the bed where Percy sat. His eyes glimmered with a strange look that Percy couldn't decipher.

"Take him to the interrogation holding cell." Fury turned, his cloak billowing like pitch black ink in a misty stream. "I need answers."

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