2019-04-27 - The Godfather's Advice

Summary:

Helena goes to the godfather of heroing for some advice before she goes home.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Sat Apr 27 18:47:49 2019
Location: Avengers Mansion

Related Logs

None

Theme Song

None

steve-rogershelena-wayne

Saturday morning is a relatively peaceful time, even in New York. Whether they're recovering from a Friday night party or a long week of work, New Yorkers like to enjoy their Saturday mornings. On the up side, it's a slow time for people who spend their time interrupting crimes. It's also pushing the limit of when Helena should probably go home and face the music. But before she does, there's someone she needs to see.

With a backpack over her shoulder, she makes her way up to the front door, thumbing the doorbell and staring at the door itself.

*

The mansion's AI greets her with an impeccably polite, "Good morning, Miss Wayne." About thirty seconds later, the door opens inwards to reveal a familiar smiling face. Dimples haven't changed, even since Helena was only knee-high to a grasshopper.

"Babblebat," says Steve warmly even as he takes a step back to indicate she should come on in. "Haven't seen you in a while. What brings you to my doorstep?" He's casual today in dark jeans and a navy-blue hoodie sweatshirt sporting the Avengers' classic 'A' in a brisk white. Then the man frowns to himself, giving Helena a searching look. "Parents know you're here?" Of course, he doesn't mention which parents, not aloud, at least while the front door's open.

*

"Noooot exactly." Helena smiles sheepishly, shifting the backpack on her shoulder before she looks away. "We kind of had a…falling out. Not the end of the world," she adds quickly, looking back to him. "But. Can I come in?" She's already checking the hallway around him, though it's hard to tell if it's a hopeful look or a nervous look. Maybe a little bit of both, depending on who might be there.

*

Helena is the recipient of a mild look of remonstration, but Steve still ushers her further in with a wave of his hand and then shuts the door. He puts his hands into the kangaroo-pocket of the hoodie and begins walking across the large foyer, gleaming as it always is to impress visitors. Of course, everyone else's personal rooms are a mess.

"Here, c'mon. Made a point of grabbing some hot cocoa powder last time I was out for milk and other goods. We'll have some coffee and talk." He's headed for the kitchens tucked away into the mansion's hallway. "How've you been then?" Steve asks lightly as he glances down at Helena, giving her the same small and knowing smile.

*

Helena smiles faintly as she follows him in, still looking around. The place may not be unfamiliar, but there's still something awesome about it in the very literal sense of the word. "Mostly okay, I guess," she answers with an awkward shrug. "Almost graduation. We're gonna have a party, I should make sure you get the invite. Science Fair finals are next week," she adds. "Things are almost ready for that."

She falls silent for a moment, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "And Mom and Dad said I was ready for, you know, things. And then as soon as I went out with them for the first time, they took it back."

*

"I'll keep an eye-out for the invite, both physical and on my phone." He has figured out how to access email via the device, after all. "'nd if it won't make you nervous, I can see if I can show up at the Fair as well. Cheer you on." Her quieter continuation of thought has him nodding to himself, his gaze rising from his feet as they travel.

Both enter the kitchen after a short time of travel, Steve walking as if he had all the time in the world to speak to the young woman. He gestures to the small round table tucked off to one side, definitely placed for personal use rather than entertaining guests. The chairs are comfortable, lined with fabric rather than just metal or wood. "Seems like something a parent might do," the Captain admits as he walks over to the fridge. He pauses his hand on the handle, looking to her. "Cocoa or coffee?"

*

Helena sets her bag down under the chair as she settles in at the table. It mostly makes the soft sound of bundled fabric, though it sounds heavy enough that there's something harder inside. It definitely doesn't sound like books and school supplies though. "Cocoa, please," she answers, folding her hands together on the table and leaning on her forearms there.

"I'd love to see you at the Science Fair," she adds with a small smile. "Your SHIELD friends might like the project, even. But I'll wait and surprise you when you're there." Her feet swing a little, out of habit rather than the height of the chair, as she waits for him to join her.

*

Steve flicks his brows high. "Sounds like I should try and show up then," he replies with another small dimpling. "Cocoa it is." For the sake of expediency, the Captain doesn't make it old-school style. That would take some time, heating the milk in a pan on the stove and mixing in the Dutch cocoa powder and vanilla flavoring from the opaque brown bottle with its cheery red label. This time, he simply microwaves the mug of milk until it's hot and then stirs in the packeted powder carefully as not to spill.

The espresso machine's done with his own mug of coffee, black as night without sugar or cream, and then he's walking over to the table to sit down. Helena's mug is set before her, a plain white ceramic thing same as his. "So." Steve gives her an expectant look as he leans back in his chair, hands wrapped around the coffee mug. "What happened?"

*

Helena watches the process, propping her chin up in one hand as she does. She's quiet, and patient - she always has been. She's learned from both of her parents the value of watching. Once he joins her, she sits up a little straighter, wrapping her hands around the mug.

"You know about the whole Nightfall thing, right?" she asks, waiting for a nod before she continues. "Well. They decided I was ready and I went with Mom to go question one of the people who looked like they were bringing in the kids. Short version, one of the gang members showed up and was about to drive off and get away, so I jumped in the car and went after him without waiting for Mom. Except!" She raises a finger, eyes narrowing. "I turned on the tracking so she could follow and sent her the cycle."

*

Steve does nod at the name mentioned and listens, his brows lightly furrowed. He sips at his coffee and inclines his head again, encouraging the young woman to continue explaining. Her addendum is enough to make him smile to himself.

"Seems like the logical thing to do, make sure your back-up knows where you're going. Lone-wolfing it isn't wise when your enemy has the upper hand. She have a problem with you haring off without her?" By his tone, he's fairly certain this is where Selina had issue.

*

"Mom didn't care." Helena grimaces, taking a sip of her cocoa. "And when he pulled into a garage, I used the car to block the entrance, then went up to the roof. I didn't go in. I didn't start a fight. I blocked them, I stayed out of the way, and I scouted while I waited for Mom to get there. Which I thought was the responsible thing to do," she adds, holding a hand to her chest.

"But when we talked to Dad about it and told him what happened, he flipped. He said I hadn't thought about it, I hadn't planned ahead, and I'd done it for the glory. That it was irresponsible and they could have been setting a trap for me and I could have gotten myself killed. I told him if they'd had a trap waiting, I would have been in a bulletproof assault vehicle and there's literally not a safer place to be, but that didn't hold any water either."

*

Pursing his lips briefly, the Captain nods down at his coffee mug. A long sigh and he looks up again, only mildly concerned by the whole affair. "Sounds all logical to me, the way you went about things. You acknowledged that others had more experience and kept yourself out of harm's way…for the most part," he amends with a little tilt of his head. Helena gets one of those small smiles again. "It wasn't a perfect plan. Lots coulda gone wrong, sure, and yeah, you could've been shot. Impulsive…" And he lifts his hand from the mug to wiggle it back and forth. "I'd be a hypocrite if I sat here and said I didn't do a few impulsive things in the heat of battle."

Somewhere, Uncle Bucky is rolling his eyes and muttering about no parachutes.

"But working as a team means letting others know what your plans are, if only to keep casualties minimal and allow no rat-holes for the goons to escape." Another sigh and sip of coffee. "Me? I think all's well that ends well. You're alive. You learned. Your dad, he… He's a good man and he loves you. I think you scared him, plain and simple. He and your mom, they've gotta talk, make sure they're on the same page about you."

*

"That's what I thought," Helena agrees, taking another sip. "Except he didn't really appreciate it when I pointed that out to him, either. I told him that just because he got scared didn't mean I'd done anything wrong. That it was about him and not about what I'd actually done." She wrinkles her nose, rubbing a hand at the back of her neck.

"So he said I was off the case. And he tried to throw Ethiopia in my face. And I kind of threw it back at him and said that maybe if he hadn't treated him like a dumb kid, then maybe he wouldn't have gone off and gotten himself killed."

She at least has the grace to look a little ashamed of that, looking down into her mug. "That part, Mom was mad about."

*

"Can't imagine why." Steve's disapproval is palpable if a shade far paler than that of her parents. "It isn't about a guilt trip. It's about being responsible. I think that's where your dad is coming from." His thumb rubs on the rim of his coffee mug as he thinks, watching the ceiling's dark reflection on the surface of his drink for a bit.

"Lemme guess. You haven't been home since the talk." His eyes rest on Helena again.

*

"I mean, I was?" Helena looks back up, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "But then last night, I sort of went out anyhow, because it's possible I've got my own bugs in the system, and there was another kid that was taken, and I might have run into Dad in the field." Awkward smile. "Soooooo, I haven't gone home since then."

*

"Hmm." Steve nods again. A distant sound makes him glance over his shoulder, but it's one of the mansion's other occupants moving around and nothing to be concerned about. He gives Helena a thoughtful squint now.

"I know nobody likes consequences, but…might be time to go home and face the music then, Babblebat. Gotta sit down with your parents and decide if there're restrictions or not. You're 18 now?" He waits for the nod and then laughs to himself. "Oh-ho…sorry, it's…" Steve rubs at the back of his neck as he stretches in the chair. "Forget sometimes about how the government runs things these days. You are an adult," he points out, " - at least according to the laws."

*

"I know I've gotta go home," Helena grimaces, staring down into her mug. "And I'd really rather not pull the 'I'm an adult' card, because we all know that counts for pretty much nothing unless I'd like to go live on the streets or something. You know I know better than to try to bluff Dad." Her fingers tap against the table.

"What do I say to him, though? How can I tell him these things without sounding like I'm just an angry teenager? Because I get it, Uncle Steve." She frowns, brows furrowing. "This life is hard, and it's dangerous. And they don't want me to live this life just because they did. But it's important. I do want it. There are kids out there who are hurting and scared and don't have superheroes for family that they know would move the world to save them. How can I just…do nothing about that?"

*

Silence hangs for a little in the kitchen. Steve watches the young one across the table with a pensive light in his eyes. His smile is a quiet one.

"Don't think anyone wants their loved ones to get hurt, or to suffer. I can speak for myself in this. What I can't do is put words in your mouth, Helena. Your dad would hear me instead and you think he'd listen to you then? I'd just get an angry phone call." His eyebrows flick again as he shifts in the chair, lifting his mug. It pauses on its rise to his mouth.

"Ask him to listen? Tell him you want to sit down and talk to him. If you feel comfortable, ask him why he's worried about you. Take it with a grain of salt, what he says, because maybe it comes out like criticism but there're some take-aways. Uncle Bucky reminds me that I'm an idiot sometimes, but we don't love each other any less."

*

"He just…made me so mad." Helena rubs at her brow, eyes fixed on the table. "I was so proud that he finally thought I was ready. All those years, Robin after Robin, and Batgirl, and Batwoman, and…and he never trusted me to be a part of it. And you know, that hurt. But he finally said I was ready. And all I wanted to do was show him that I'm good at this."

She lets out a heavy breath, setting her hands flat on the table. "But he has to know I'm going to do it, one way or another." That's when she looks back up. "I'm eighteen. I graduate in just a few weeks. I can join SHIELD if I want. I don't. I mean, maybe I do. I don't know. I do know that I don't want to make that choice now just because I feel like it's the only one I have, you know?"

*

"Yep, I do know," the Captain replies with a nod. "You are good at it, Helena. I've seen the news articles, read 'em. Hear-tell and all that. I'm not gonna tell you you're too young for it. Saw men younger than you pick up Tommy guns and give the Third Reich hell. What am I going to say is that you're gonna change. Maybe that's what your dad's afraid of. Change is inevitable…and uncomfortable sometimes." He looks at her evenly. "He cares about his family. Cared enought to let an old soldier join it by a name, if only so he can sit at a table and share what he thinks is wisdom over coffee."

Steve gives the young woman a warm smile. "I know you'll figure it out, Babblebat. Got faith in you. You're strong."

*

"Thanks, Uncle Steve." Helena sighs, standing up and leaning over to give him a hug. "I…guess it's probably time to go and face the music. If only so Mom doesn't worry that I'm dead. Or something worse," she adds with a roll of her eyes. Reaching for the cocoa, she drains the last of it before going to wash it out and put it in the dishwasher. She knows better than to leave a mess around Steve.

"Oh," she adds, leaning down to pick up her backpack. "I ran into a woman down at the Mott Street Market who claimed to be from Atlantis. Abilities and tech backed it up, as far as I could tell. But she was looking for people who help make things better, so I gave her your number. In case you get a weird text or something."

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