Chapter Text
A/N. This work contains descriptions of child abuse and neglect. This is a blanket trigger warning: however, I will try to make sure to leave trigger warnings in chapters that will contain more graphic descriptions. This work also shows signs and symptoms of disordered eating: I will try to leave trigger warnings in individual chapters for this as well. This chapter hints at both.
Enjoy!
Phoebe’s little hand fit nicely into hers, Calliope had thought, when they’d escaped the first time. She’d been barely a toddler then, her little feet stumbling over cracked concrete as she tried to navigate the use of legs for the first time in her life. Callie had been barely more than a baby herself, then, aged thirteen and looking about half that age, buried underneath her jacket to hide the way her ribs jutted from her body, as though her skin couldn’t grow fast enough for her ribcage.
It couldn’t, really, since there was never enough fuel to allow such a thing. She hoped, even then, that little Phoebe would never have to experience the pain hunger brought, not ever. And yet the little girl was still small for her age.
They had been reported missing almost a week later, and dragged back a week after that when they were finally found just south of the border, and Callie had been trying to protect Phoebe ever since.
The same thought flitted across her mind now, three years later, as she tugged Phoebe through the crowded New York scene. That her hand fit so nicely, that she would never let anything happen to the little girl, that surely life shouldn’t be this exhausting.
‘Come on Phoebes,’ she called, as her footsteps started to slow down. ‘Not far now.’
‘I don’t wanna go,’ Phoebe cried, coming to an abrupt stop and ripping her hand from Callie’s. Callie suppressed a groan. ‘It’s not fair. I wanna stay in preschool.’
‘What? But the first day of first grade is so exciting,’ Callie said. ‘You’re gonna make so many new friends!’
‘I don’t wanna make new friends,’ Phoebe sobbed. ‘I want my old friends!’
‘Well, who knows, maybe some of your old friends will also attend this school. You’ll only know if you go!’
‘I wanna go home.’ Phoebe said.
‘Too bad. I have to go to school, so so do you. Come on. Let’s move.’ Callie gripped Phoebe’s arm, to try and drag her along, but she had dug her feet in, and refused to move. ‘Come on, Phoebe, I can’t be late to school, they'll give me detention. And then I won’t be able to pick you up.’
Phoebe still refused to move. Callie sighed, picking her up, adding her to the load of textbooks in her bag and grunting as she tried to maintain her grip on the girl. At six years old, she was starting to get heavy, especially since Callie had been neglecting food for a while lately, and that meant she was weaker than ever.
‘Not so far,’ Callie told herself, starting the trek through the city to the small elementary school. Phoebe complained the whole time, slumped in her arms, until they finally arrived and she spotted one of her friends, hurrying to go play.
‘Wait – wait!’ Callie called. ‘Put your bag away, kid.’
Phoebe shoved the bag into her bag box.
‘You her mum?’ The teacher inquired, obviously trying to be polite as she glanced Callie over.
‘No.’ Callie said. ‘Our Mum’s working, so I had to drop her off today. I’ll pick her up this afternoon too.’
‘Oh. Alright.’
‘I’m Calliope,’ Callie said. ‘My number is down as the emergency contact, in case you can’t reach our mum. She’s a surgeon, so she often can’t answer the phone.’
‘I see. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Calliope.’
‘You too!’ She was already starting to turn away, beginning the jog to get to school on time. She was grateful the distance wasn’t so far, but the worn strap of her backpack was digging into her shoulder with every movement, heavier with the textbooks needed on the first day, alongside her ancient laptop.
She arrived just in time, shoving her things into her locker and sliding into her seat just as the bell echoed through the building.
‘Phoebe causing trouble?’ Evie said, leaning over, a grin on her face.
‘As usual,’ Callie said. Evie shook her head.
‘Life when you’re six is so dramatic.’
The teacher began a lecture about the requirements of the year, and the pair fell quiet.
It felt like forever before the day was finally over, and Callie was jogging back to the elementary school, arriving to find Phoebe dawdling outside with the teacher fretting nearby.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Callie said. Phoebe’s head jerked up, a smile stretching across her rounded cheeks. ‘Hey Phoebes, good day?’
‘Uh huh.’ She said, wrapping her arms around Callie’s middle.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting,’ Callie said to the teacher. ‘We’ll get out of your hair now.’
‘Oh it’s no trouble, she’s a lovely little girl.’
Callie beamed. Good. Phoebe hadn’t caused any trouble – yet.
‘Should we head to work?’ she said, looking down at her. Phoebe nodded, pushing her choppy fringe from her eyes. She waved at her teacher, taking Callie’s other outstretched one and starting a very convoluted and utterly un-understandable play-by-play of her day. Callie ummed and ahhed all the way to Avengers tower, sliding her pass through the scanners and greeting security. Phoebe managed to tell them that it was her first day at Big Girl School in the thirty seconds it took to get through, then they were in the elevator and arriving at the Stark Industries cafeteria.
‘Afternoon Callie,’ her manager, Elda, said.
‘Afternoon!’ Callie set Phoebe up at her usual table with her cheap, crackly headphones and some colouring in, then wrapped her apron around her waist and tossed her hair into a bun. ‘Been busy?’
‘Eh,’ Elda said. ‘Can you get some prep on?’
Callie had been working the cafeteria for roughly a year now, preparing food or serving Stark scientists or admin staff, and even the occasional Avenger: usually Clint Barton or Antman. Sometimes a voice in the ceiling would tell her to put a bag of food in the elevator and then leave it there, and she wouldn’t question it. It was Avengers tower, after all.
Something was different today. There were a lot more suits and a lot less worn jeans and ratty button ups.
‘Is there an event on today?’ Callie asked Elda, as she brought out another tray of steaming, cheesy potato bake. She grabbed a muffin for Phoebe, handing it to her over the counter, then the younger girl went back to the little table in the corner. The scientists generally knew it as “Phoebe’s table”, but these men and women were eyeing it off curiously.
‘I think there’s some sort of big meeting,’ Elda said, shrugging.
‘Callie,’ Happy, the head security guard and biggest teddy bear there was, appeared in front of the counter. ‘I’ve been told we need to move Phoebe out of sight, the boss is freaking out.’
‘The boss, as in-?’
‘Pepper Potts,’ he said, sternly. Callie felt her face drain of all the blood.
‘Oh. Can we hide her behind the counter?’
‘Not legally. And there’s a lot of government here.’
‘Right. Um. Could I set her up in the lobby?’
‘Is there anyone else you can call to look after her? Where’s your mum and dad?’
‘Dad’s dead, Mum’s at the hospital. She’s a surgeon, she’ll be in for another few hours at least.’
‘Okay, can I take her?’
Callie blinked. She knew Happy, and she trusted him, but this felt different. Though she guessed she was out of options.
‘I guess so, but don’t you have stuff to do today?’
‘I have somewhere I can take her. You can come pick her up at the end of the day.’
‘Okay, I guess,’ Callie chewed her lip. ‘Phoebe, you’re going with Happy today.’
‘Okay!’ Phoebe packed her things up and snatched Happy’s free hand. ‘Hi Happy, guess what? Today I went to Big School for the first time. It was really fun, I made finger paintings and…’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Elda said kindly. Callie nodded, forcing herself to let go of the cleaning cloth she was gripping. One of the government members stepped forward; she sent them a wide smile, and served them their piping hot coffee. It was nearing six o’clock when everyone suddenly took seats, and Pepper Potts stepped in front of the room. Callie couldn’t help but dawdle then, gaping at the powerful woman as she captured the room with her well-executed speech.
It looked like the event was some sort of networking thing, then, because afterwards everyone came to get dinner from the cafeteria and the noise rose exponentially. Callie was glad that Phoebe wasn’t there after all. She would surely have gotten overwhelmed.
‘We’re out of the potato, sorry,’ she called, over the racket, to one particularly snobbish businessman.
‘You’re Stark Industries, how can you possibly be out of potato?’ He grumbled.
‘We have plenty of everything else?’
‘I wanted potato.’
‘Alas, the one thing I could not provide you,’ another voice said, sidling up beside him. ‘I apologise, Mr Brown, I thought the wagyu beef and organic snow peas would be enough to sway you.’
Mr Brown sniffed at Mr Stark. Mr Stark stared him down, amused, until the man turned back to Callie and finally ordered something else.
‘Good choice, sir,’ Callie said, grinning. ‘Have a wonderful evening.’
She handed him his plate, and he disappeared without so much of a thank you.
‘How’s it going back there?’ Stark called, over the madness, not moving from where he leaned casually against the counter. ‘I’m sorry there wasn’t much warning, we were going to have a banquet in the main hall, but then there was a minor issue between the Hulk and a spider and… well, this is it.’
‘It’s not so bad,’ Callie said, shrugging.
‘It’s official. We’re out of gravy.’ Elda said, appearing from the back with her hands on her hips. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do – Mr Stark!’
‘FRIDAY, how fast can you get gravy delivered to the tower?’
‘Ten minutes, sir.’
Stark smiled. ‘Do you need anything else?’
Elda stuttered for a few seconds. It didn’t last long. ‘Potato, cream, cheese, macaroni, flour, and twelve dozen eggs.’
‘FRI, you get that?’
‘Yes sir. I will notify you when the delivery is imminent.’
‘Do you two need another set of hands in there?’
‘I think we’re fine–’ Callie began.
‘Yes,’ Elda said. And just when Callie didn’t think her day could get any stranger, Tony Stark was behind the counter, wearing a stained apron over his several thousand dollar suit.
‘Mr Stark,’ the first customer spluttered, when Tony smiled at them from behind the counter. ‘What are you doing?’
‘How else am I supposed to get to know my employees?’ Tony said. ‘Now, what do you want?’
Tony Stark certainly got through all the customers, but his servings were sloppy and Callie wasn’t sure he’d seen a knife before from the way he cut the vegetables.
‘I can do that,’ she said, when he almost sliced his finger off a second time. ‘You can sweep and wipe down.’
‘Tony Stark,’ Pepper Potts was in the doorway. ‘What are you doing? You’re supposed to be networking.’
‘I am networking.’
‘With the kitchen staff! We need more directors on board or else –’
‘I know I know,’ Tony made his way over and kissed her hand, as though it would help anything. ‘I was just helping get everything squared away and then I was going to get back out there. But this was a great way to speak to everyone!’
‘You were taking their orders, I hardly think that counts,’ Pepper said, though she seemed calmer now. ‘You better get at least half of them on board. I’m serious.’
‘Consider it done,’ Stark said. He kissed her on the cheek, then, before returning to work. Callie was glad at the very least that most of the rush was gone. The food arrived, and Stark finally put away the apron.
‘It was nice to meet you, Elda and Callie,’ he said, squinting at their name badges. Then he stopped, looking at Callie. ‘You have a sister.’
‘Yes?’
‘She’s in my house.’
‘She’s what?’
‘Barton and Rogers are babysitting.’
‘But Happy said –’
‘Happy dropped her off earlier,’ he shrugged. ‘You can come pick her up later. I’ll grant you access and whatever.’
He disappeared. Callie gripped the bench for support. She didn’t know what was weirder: that Stark, Barton and Rogers were all willing to babysit a random kid for a random person on a whim, or that the first thing Happy thought of was dropping her off with literal superheroes.
And she still had four hours left of her shift.
By the time the clock reached ten, the suits had finally trickled out of the building, likely moving to second locations for drinks, and they could finally clean up. Callie swept and mopped the front area, propping the chairs on top of the tables, while Elda cleaned the back. They smashed it out in record time, finishing only twenty minutes late at 10:20.
‘Thank you for staying back,’ Elda said, as they hung up their aprons and retrieved their bags. ‘I know you have school tomorrow.’
‘It’s no trouble.’
Elda took the elevator down, but Callie dawdled, having no clue how to get to Phoebe.
‘Miss Green?’
‘Yes?’ It was the voice in the ceiling again, FRIDAY. Thank god.
‘Please enter the elevator, I will guide you to the avengers living quarters.’
‘Um, okay.’
She stepped into the elevator. The doors closed on their own accord, and she didn’t press any buttons before it began to move upwards. It was only another minute or so before the doors opened into a large living area, complete with a huge kitchen, the biggest dining table she had ever seen, and a sunken lounge, overlooking both a gleaming tv and floor to ceiling windows.
‘Hello?’
Someone stood up from the couch.
‘You must be Callie,’ Steve Rogers, Captain Fucking America, said. He stepped forward and held out his hand to shake.
‘Yes, I’m sorry you ended up having to babysit, I didn’t know that’s what Happy meant when he said he had an idea.’
‘It’s no trouble. She’s a good girl.’
For now, Callie thought, but nodded.
‘She’s just sleeping in one of the spare rooms, I’ll show you.’
He led the way through a darkened hallway, with multiple doors lit up along the cracks, showing that several of the avengers were awake and there. In one of the last rooms he pushed the door open. It was dimly lit by a lamp on the bedside table, and Callie could see Phoebe’s tiny form as a lump in the king sized bed.
She was snoring, wearing someone’s huge t-shirt as a nightgown, her things in a neat pile leaning against the bedside table. Callie picked up the discarded school bag and hooked it on her shoulder, beside her own, then carefully picked her sister up, gritting her teeth from the effort. Phoebe barely stirred. She’d been moved enough times that she could probably sleep through a hurricane.
‘Is your Mum picking you up?’ Steve whispered, as they moved back through the dark hall.
‘No, she’s working late. She’s a surgeon. It’s ok, I live not far from here.’
Steve shook his head. ‘I’ll drive you, don’t worry about it.’
‘Are you sure?’ she didn’t want to refuse, since Phoebe was getting so heavy now. But she didn’t want to put the man out of his way.
‘Of course,’ as though the notion of otherwise was ridiculous. They got into the elevator together, and this time, it went all the way to the underground garage. He picked out a regular looking car, and they settled Phoebe on a cushion because of the lack of a car seat. Callie sat beside her, letting her lean on her in her sleep, the drive quiet but comfortable.
‘Do you need any help carrying everything upstairs?’ Steve whispered, once he’d pulled into the parking bay.
‘I should be okay, thank you,’ Callie said. ‘Thank you so much for everything tonight.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ Steve said. He smiled, and waved, and Callie carried Phoebe up the stairs with some effort, shoving the keys into the door and kicking it open. She settled Phoebe on her mattress on the floor, burrowing her under blankets like it would make up for the lack of heating, then returned to the kitchen to the pile of bills on the table. Their water would be shut off tomorrow, one said. Another warned her mother of an unpaid speeding fine.
‘Nice to know you’re alive,’ Callie grumbled, flicking through each of them. School fees. Electricity: late. She’d be paid the day after tomorrow at least. She could deal with it then.
She crossed the bare room, took one last hot shower, filled a few buckets and water bottles in preparation, and finally dragged her aching body to bed.
To prepare for another day, just the same.