She understood. And she loved him. That was what mattered, right? He wanted to ask her so many questions – but he knew, instinctively now, that that would be deflection. He’d talk to her about her worries, her fears, later. He wouldn’t make her wait to hear his, wouldn’t make her worry. She had enough to be worried about, even without blood family.
Family was hard. Anomalies? Those were easy by comparison.
"He, uh, left it to me. With a bunch of other stuff. Documents, notebooks, junk. I’m sure the Foundation’s been through it all by now. I was– maybe too invested in the one thing for too long. I haven’t – I never actually checked, what else was there."
That could be considered an oversight. Or it could be just trusting in the Welcoming Committee to make sure everything was taken care of. Or maybe it was the excitement of those first few weeks – weeks of realizing how weird the world was, that there wasn’t just the way things were, that things weren’t black and white and that success wasn’t measured on a scale. There were people like him, not after some higher purpose, but not naturally drifters, either. People who found something they could devote themselves to, and acted on that dedication.
"I was going through his stuff while also just passing in high school. I made sure to keep to the ‘minimum necessary to graduate’ so my dad couldn’t get on my ass about being a dropout, while also not being too worried about disappointing him literally anywhere else. I actually planned to skip town the day I graduated. I had a little bit of an inheritance in cash. Figured I could sell the house, buy a car, and disappear off the face of the earth." He laughed a little bit dryly. "Turns out I did drop out of high school, got a doctorate instead, and still managed to do just that. Anyway, um, besides some art pieces the medal was really the only thing that seemed sellable in Grandpa’s attic. I was actually going to pawn it right after school when– the day that it happened."
He stopped, on purpose right now, just to focus in on 255. He couldn’t lose control here, not in public. It was a Friday afternoon at the waterfront in San Francisco, of course there were pedestrians, and nobody needed to see someone with a bullet wound who wasn’t actually dying.
Someday, he’d let Pepper see it. He’d tell Pepper about the last anomaly he tried to befriend before Ira, too. But right now he had to stay in the moment, feel her hand on his, curl his fingers into hers when her hand tightened.
"Shooter. I don’t – I don’t know anything about them. Nothing on the make or model of the gun, or their personal history. I didn’t really have time to get obsessed with it until– well. Anyway. I was–in the hall, and I heard the gunfire, and I had to be behind him, because I turned a corner, and bam, Cody’s second dead body. There’s– there’s a big difference between someone who’s died… like that, and when Grandpa died in his sleep."
He maintained focus. His mouth was dry, but he was grounded. She was there. And there were people watching, if that hadn’t mattered. But it made all the difference, her hand in his. Her presence. The ice cream, slowly melting.
"I had to have– I dunno. Screamed, or some stupid shit. Made a noise at least because I heard him coming back. I did what seemed reasonable at the time and dropped down like I’d died with the other bodies. It probably wouldn't've worked if I didn't... if I hadn't brought it with me, in my pocket." A shaky breath. That was enough, without being a security hazard. "He walked past, and I didn’t move for – Powers That Be, it felt like forever. It was apparently convincing enough that the paramedics tried to put me in a body bag. After that it was hospital, doctors, trauma shrinks, Welcoming Committee. Three days later and I was shipped off to Iowa."
And he never looked back, he wanted to say, except he did. He thought about how as far as he knew, his parents hadn’t come by the hospital. Maybe they’d heard he was alive and assumed he’d come back, the way he always did. He knew he’d spent a day worrying about what his dad would say, like he could’ve done something.
Family was hard. Anomalies had always been easier, by comparison. A lot easier.
