#iamlevelseven

Send a ◎ and a question and my muse must answer, even if it's a secret.

"On my own?"  Percy's smile went just a little bit sideways there for a second, bright eyes flicking off to the left before coming back to center focus.  "Well, I suppose there's shopping, but that's more fun with Viper.  Hmm, tagging is definitely a Charlie outing."  A soft rustle of fabric was the only real hint that she moved, a subtle shift of posture - which wasn't something that uncommon in women who looked about five or six months pregnant.  "The z pens are great, but I've gotten a little spoiled - feels wrong now to do them without Coyote on my six and I can't wait to let Rogers loose in the urban pen."  She sighed then, the expression just a little vapid - and ignoring the strange looks from various passers-by - as she took a moment to picture her boys raining death down on hordes of the undead.

"I guess the best time I can have entirely on my own is - "

Without any warning, a man nearly twice her height and definitely two or three weight classes above her darted out from the crowd around them, reaching out to grasp the very small - very pregnant - woman from behind.  Percy didn't even blink; an elbow went hard back into his ribs (enough that something in there cracked with the impact) before both hands grabbed onto the forearm over her shoulder, yanked to dislocate and twisted to break.  She turned as he fell, pulling a very small pistol from somewhere beneath her skirt and holding it trained on his face without a trace of warmth or pity in her own.

"The rules are in place for a reason, asshole.  The only reason you're not dead right now is that I've been planning this weekend's dinner for a month and I'm not going to let you ruin it because Mum has to fill out a bunch of post-mortem paperwork."  

That didn't mean she was above making him suffer a little.

"Tell Mum the next time one of you gosling-wannabes breaks the cardinal rule and actually touches me?  He will be getting back a dead duck."  Lowering her weapon, Percy shifted her weight enough to tap his cheek gently with one of her black heels in a mockery of a cheek-pat that she was too pregnant to bother with for the stranger on the ground.  "Buck up, kid.  Couple of months and you'll be back in good enough shape for your lifetime of desk work."

Over the last few years, Percy's face had become much more mobile, more expressive.  It wasn't so much an effort to pretend to be interested and engaged when someone spoke to her now.

But as this particular individual went on speaking, the emotion fell entirely from her face in a way that was inhuman - in a way that was legitimately frightening.  

Her eyes brightened and hardened and her posture lifted up and forward; suddenly she wasn't soft and harmless any more, but larger than her tiny frame and inexplicably dangerous.

"There is a difference between truths we do not wish to acknowledge and a bald faced lie."  There was power in her voice, too, but not quite the modulated tone that came from dipping into the wild places inside her mind.  This was entirely Persephone in a way no one had seen her before.

Not anyone still alive, at any rate.

"If you are going to try and pass off the latter as the former, at least do yourself the favor of doing better than this.  My father loves me - and that is no mean feat.  Slander him again, my dear..."  Her mouth curved up into a sick, vicious kind of smile.

Oh god…  

In all the mess and chaos that had followed, Percy had forgotten that had been the last big conversation she’d gotten to have with him.  Had things truly fallen apart so quickly?

To have the heart of the matter cut to so quickly sucked the air right out of her lungs and she dropped the wooden spoon right into the pot of milk.

"Ah, I…"

I’m pregnant and widowed and immortal and exiled and getting ready to raise a child on my own.  

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat a couple times, taking hold of the spoon again and stirring the milk while it heated.  ”Christ, you’d think this would get easier after the fifth or sixth retelling.”  Her expression as she looked up at Phil was lost and tired.  ”But it really never does, huh?”  

It was a rhetorical question, but still she had to pause and collect her thoughts again.  

"I’ve been better."  

It was a terrible answer and she knew it, but really Percy had had quite enough of being such a mess.  

"You think Lucy would want to come with me when I pick out nursery pieces?"  It would seem that she didn’t have it in her to cut through this the way she had with Adrian.  Not again.  Tangential approach it was, then.  The pregnancy was, by far, the easiest way she could think of to begin.  "I’ve dealt with a lot of children, but not all that many infants - and I certainly never had to buy anything for them before.  I don’t think I’d even know where to start."  

It’s gonna be okay  

How many times throughout her childhood had Percy seen or heard a parent say that to their child?  Even with her mind, she couldn’t offer an exact number without several hours of running mental footage backward.  It was a high number, whatever it was.  She’d always dismissed it as obvious fallacy - empty platitudes that made nothing better and only wasted oxygen.

And yet…

Somehow, hearing those four words from a voice she trusted - someone she believed in - it did help.  She wasn’t sure how, exactly, everything would be fine, but the fact that Phil seemed sure it could be fixed made it seem less overwhelming than it had before.

Illogical.

"Where’d they have you holed up this time, then?  Anywhere fun?"

Still, her smile was a little more at ease as she led them both into the kitchen and brought out a saucepan in which to heat up some milk.  Better to ease into this.

"How’s Lucy?"

That assurance was all it took for Percy to step back and allow the man on her doorstep to come inside.  

"More than one something," she answered quietly, using her arm to beckon him inside so that she could close the door behind them both.  "Honestly, Mum, I haven't even the slightest idea where to begin."  Not without breaking down a g a i n - and she had had enough of being so damned weak.

A few flicks of her wrist and a quick press against the keypad armed her system again and only then did Percy turn - attempting a small smile in Phil's direction.  "Hot chocolate first though, yeah?"

Hormones were ridiculous things, Percy decided.  

For the last three months or so, she hadn't been able to stand even the smell of chocolate, but the minute he asked, nothing in the world could sound any better.  

"Three packets apiece sounds perfect, Mum."  

And if she sniffled a little while saying that, well, it wasn't like anyone could miss her growing belly after a hug that tight; maybe she'd be excused the excess emotion.

"Er- you know I normally don't care, but - "  Percy paused and glanced back over her shoulder toward the (thankfully still empty) hallway and then out over Phil's shoulder toward the (not any less empty than usual) street.  "Everything's so fucked up now, Mum.  I'm sorry, but I gotta ask... work didn't 'bug' you or anything, did they?"

When Percy opened the door to her flat, Phil Coulson was the last person she’d expected to see.

“Mum," she breathed out on a strangled sort of sound and dodged the box of cocoa entirely to fling both arms around his neck.  For as long as she was allowed, she just clung to the last piece of ‘home’ she had left; to the only one she was likely to ever see again.  

There was so much she wanted to say - so much she should say… so much she needed to say.  But as she struggled to find the right words (to find any words) she found only five.