𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎. That was the first thing Phoebe thought as she stepped out into the near empty airport. All the stores were covered with iron bars, the lights harsh and bright, similar to the lights that had come on as the plane landed, Phoebe still fighting back the black spots that had appeared as a result, eyes strained and hurting. There weren't as many people in this airport as there had been in the one she had left, but the sounds from outside, and the sounds of the people around, were more than loud enough to unnerve her.

Stepping to the side, she reached into her drawstring bag and pulled out the letter with the address that she was meant to find. Or, more accurately, the address that the letter was meant to find, the addition of a twelve-year-old girl was a last minute decision made by aforementioned twelve-year-old girl while she was withdrawing money from her mother's account, her mind racing at a speed she could hardly keep up with, seeming to blink and finding herself in the situation that she was in now, unsure of whether or not she was even wanted.

But considering where she had just left, anywhere was better than there.

Seeing that it was past midnight, it was clear that she couldn't stay for long and, tugging off her Unaccompanied Minor tag, she followed the crowd towards the exit of the airport, hoping that the envelope full of money in her drawstring would be enough to get her to the address. If that didn't work, she did know how to use force, but considering everything, drawing more attention to herself, or where she had left, wasn't the best idea and was hardly an option.

As she made her way towards the exit, she slowed, catching her reflection on the polished walls, unsure of what it was made of, but it was enough to show her. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen her reflection before, they allowed mirrors at the facility, but there was something about the way she looked then that had her walking towards the wall, blinking owlishly at herself, catching sight of the dark circles under her eyes and her long, bedraggled mushroom brown hair. She looked like a tired, lost little girl and, despite everything she had been taught and all that she had done, that was what she was, at the end of the day.

It made her wonder why she had been placed in the environment that she had been, but it was too late to change things now, so there was no point in dwelling on the choices of the dead and those left behind.

Prying her gaze away from her reflection and taking a deep breath, Phoebe looked towards her right, catching sight of the people making their way towards the exit. She recognized some of those walking as people from her flight so, slightly unsure, she followed close behind, not wanting to draw too much attention, but not wanting to get lost.

She still had to pick up her suitcase from the baggage claim, as the airport attendant had explained while showing her the way to her gate, and Phoebe was grateful that she was able to check it in because, while the staff scientists had made all of their equipment and technology undetectable, she wasn't sure if her whip would have made it through the x-ray unnoticed; fortunately, she still had yet to find out.

Following the signs and slightly misleading arrows, she soon found herself in a room filled with metal circles and conveyer belts, most with white signs and warnings placed on top, the digital signs just as dead as the belts themselves, only a few humming and alive, small crowds centered around them.

Most of the carousels were just about finished, the crowds starting to dissipate, Phoebe finding that the only group left was hers, the people surrounding it just as tired and bedraggled as she was, many on their phones talking to people she couldn't see but could hear, others texting or just passing the time.

As she approached, the carousel buzzed to life, an alarm going off, causing most around to jump, Phoebe included. As the attention was directed towards the moving conveyer belt, Phoebe was forced to stop in her tracks, taking deep breaths in order to quiet the overbearing sounds all around her. She had been taught early on how and her heightened senses hardly proved to be a problem, much less one that couldn't be rectified immediately, but alone and confused, she was more vulnerable than she normally would be.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for her to calm down, opening her eyes to find the conveyer belt still moving, the crowd only just starting to thin out. The lights were slightly too bright, but any normal person would have thought so after having their eyes closed as tightly as Phoebe had and the strain quelled in no time at all, Phoebe making her way towards the edge of the carousel in the meantime.

Catching sight of her nondescript luggage with the tie that her accompanying attendant had added onto it just before she checked it in, Phoebe reached over with her right had and tugged it off the belt, her training making it far easier than it would be for an adult, though she didn't have much in her bag to begin with.

Looking towards the sliding doors, she found some people standing on the sidewalk, a few taxis paused on the side. Reaching back into her drawstring bag, she pulled out the letter with the address she was meant to find, reading it over despite having had it memorized long before, not needing to pay much attention as she made her way out towards the very edge of the curb, looking out towards the various taxis, unsure of what to do, looking towards the adults around her to try and see.

Tucking the letter back into her bag, she raised her arm out, waving, hoping that someone would see her and stop. Of course, given that the taxis were looking, one did, rolling down the window to hear the address, glancing towards the other adults who didn't pay much attention, looking out for their own rides.

"You alone?" the man asked after Phoebe recited the address, and she nodded, furrowing her brow at his lack of a direct response.

"Yes, I am by myself," she replied, and she felt her stomach churn when she saw his already furrowed brows furrow even more, but, eventually, he just climbed out of the cab and helped her with her bag.

"Thank you," she said, sliding into the backseat, watching as he climbed back into the front, casting one last glance out the passenger side window, as if some adult was going to come rushing out, claiming her as theirs.

But, despite his wishes, no adult came and, with nothing else left to do, he made his way towards the address that she had recited, plugging it into his GPS and hoping for the best.

Phoebe sat quietly in the backseat, just staring out the window. Despite it being past midnight, the city was still teeming with life, sounds filling the polluted air, the lights shining brightly against the gray sky, disappearing into the clouds. She had never been outside unless it was with a team and, even then, she had never been out in the open for long, and San Francisco was nothing like this.

"You got someone to stay with?" the man asked as they made their way towards the suburbs, away from the skyscrapers and billboards, everything quieting and fading into the guise of what night should actually be.

Phoebe didn't respond right away, thinking over her words. She had been raised to be accurate and precise, so it took some time before she finally settled on, "I can only hope so."

The cab driver was ready to keel over.

But work was work so, despite the voice in him screaming to call someone, to make sure that this girl was going to family or that someone knew where she was, he just took her to the address, slowing in front of the nice looking house just on the outskirts of the city, far enough to be quiet, but close enough to still be in the light.

"You take care, yeah?" the man called, watching her carefully, unsure if she even had money to pay; he wasn't sure if he would be relieved if she did.

He soon realized that it only worried him more when she reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope, handing him a hundred dollar bill, more than the fair cost, telling him that she would be fine with him keeping all of it, her words calculated and precise, contractions nonexistent.

"Thank you for your services," she said, giving him a polite smile before turning on her heel and tugging her suitcase over towards the front door, not looking back.

After a few moments, the cab driver just drove off, knowing fully well that, despite his best efforts, he wouldn't be forgetting the strange encounter anytime soon.

That left Phoebe on the porch of a home of someone that she didn't know, mustering up the courage to ring the doorbell. There were too many unknown variables and unanswered questions, and she had to wonder why she was there in the first place, though she knew the answer to that, to a certain extent, and there was no use in wasting time going back over it all.

So, with a deep breath, she reached out and rang the doorbell, jumping when she heard it from outside the house, as well as its reverberation inside, her heart leaping in her throat when she heard the sounds of floorboards creaking; someone was inside.

Phoebe waited, listening to the sounds of someone slowly making their way down the stairs, the floorboards creaking along the way, so quiet that, if she hadn't been straining, they wouldn't have been heard at all.

Looking around, she caught sight of a security camera just above the doorframe. She blinked at it for a moment before looking away, shivering when an unexpected breeze rushed past, her arms prickling with goosebumps, her clothes inadequate against the cold.

That seemed to do the trick as the footsteps moved faster, if not still just as wary, the deadbolt locking into place before the door opened slightly, revealing a man looking down at her, his face obscured by shadow.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice low and deep, rough from sleep, and he sounded uneasy yet concerned, the way any adult would be if faced with a young girl on their doorstep in the middle of the night.

"My name is Phoebe Carisi," she introduced, pulling out the letter supposedly addressed to the man in front of her, "I believe you are my father."

º º º

John Jonah Jameson Jr. was a kind man who was wary of the world and all that it had to offer. Of course, Phoebe's observation would only be solidified after more years of knowing him, as this was her initial observation and, considering the circumstances, one could not possibly understand the nature of another when one was an uninvited guest in the middle of the night with a letter and a life changing declaration.

She had been let in immediately and, before she could move past the threshold, Jameson had taken the letter and looked over it, seeming to recognize the return address name and handwriting immediately, his entire body tensing and softening all at once, his eyes flitting over towards Phoebe who had taken to surveying his home.

He had led her into the living room, motioning towards an armchair with the instruction to, "Stay here and don't touch anything, I'm gonna—I'll be back," and while Phoebe wanted nothing more than to stand and inspect the picture frames that lined the walls and drawers, she was a good soldier and remained where she was told to, her hands folded in her lap, allowing her eyes to wander momentarily before returning back to where the man had once stood, waiting for his return.

It didn't take him long to do so and, after startling slightly at her piercing gaze, the man handed her a warm blanket and a mug of milk, placing a carton of Chips Ahoy on top of the blanket, looking uncomfortable with the entire ordeal, pulling away almost immediately, staring at her as if she were a creature rather than a person.

"Are you allergic to anything?" he asked, motioning towards the food, and she shook her head, unsure of how she was meant to go about eating any of it.

With nothing else left to do, the man opened the envelope with shaky hands, pulling out the letter and unfolding it, smoothing it out absentmindedly as his eyes began to scan over each word, starting only to stop and make his way back to the beginning, mouthing the words in the hopes of deciphering what exactly he was being told, his gaze flickering over to Phoebe a few times before, finally, detaching from her, and reality, entirely, lost in the words and the news he was being given, more than any one man should handle at a time.

There Phoebe just sat, staring between her supposed father and the food he had given her with the presumption that she had even seen it in this form in her life.

Jameson had been staring at the letter, just letting everything settle in, when he caught onto the lack of movement, raising his head from where it was bowed to look at her, finding that she was simply staring down at the closed carton and milk, her legs pulled up underneath the blanket, allowing herself a moment of relaxation despite her training, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"You drink milk with your cookies?" he asked, motioning with a finger towards the general vicinity of the food he had brought, wondering if he should have made a sandwich instead of just giving her sweets, or at least warmed up the milk.

Phoebe's brow only furrowed as she tilted her head at him, glancing down at the items in her lap before finally shaking her head. "This was never part of the standardized meals that I was given at the facility. While I have consumed both milk and cookies, they were always regulated and only eaten in the cafeteria, so I can only assume that whatever it is you are referring to, I have yet to experience it."

He stared at her for a few moments, unblinking, until finally sighing, his entire body seeming to collapse as he raised a hand to his face, groaning as he whispered, "Joan, what did you do?"

Rubbing at his eyes for a few moments, he pulled them away, looking at the young girl in front of him, trying to muster up a supportive expression, but falling short, though Phoebe wasn't in the need for it.

"Here, let me—" he began, cutting himself off as he reached over and opened the carton, pulling out the cookie and holding it up, making sure she could see, "Then you just," he dunked the cookie into the milk, handing it back over to her, making sure she had a good grip before pulling his hand away, "Then you just eat it."

Phoebe's gaze flickered between the dripping cookie and her father for a moment, wary of what she was being taught, but, finally, relented, taking a bite. Her eyes widened at the taste—she'd never had a cookie taste like this before—and she felt her lips tug up into a smile, and was pleased to find that Jameson's did the same, if only because hers did first.

His smile disappeared as quickly as it arrived, however, and he sighed, standing up and making his way towards a small chest underneath a drawer that he opened, revealing a contraption of some sorts sitting inside. Phoebe watched curiously as he reached down into the chest and pulled out a square item, removing a large black circle from inside.

She had learned of vinyl in her studies, but only briefly, and she had never once heard it being played, the older members only allowed to listen on devices provided by the facility.

She watched as he carefully set down the needle, wanting to be exact, the music filling the room, much louder than she was anticipating. She had vaguely recognized the voices from the rooms of the older members who were given the privilege, but the sound was always muffled. She had winced as her ears throbbed, but she quickly focused, not wanting to impose and ask him to lower the volume.

"This was your mother's favorite," he whispered softly, staring down at the spinning record, "But I'm sure you knew that."

Phoebe shook her head, pausing from where she had reached out and picked up another cookie, a bitter taste in her mouth separate from the food she had been given. "No. I did not know much about her."

He frowned, turning to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "She said you were homeschooled."

She glanced over the letter, wishing she knew how much of her life her mother divulged. She had opened her mouth to say something that wouldn't reveal too much, wouldn't let him in on all she had been through, but he had already moved on, figuring that he was asking too much too early.

"Do you know The Beatles?"

She had shaken her head. "I know of beetles, but I do not believe you are referring to them."

He stepped away from the record player to sit down across from her, the coffee table groaning slightly under his weight, giving her a kind, but tired look. "Do you know pop culture? Or just..." he gestured with his hand, too tired to vocalize his thoughts.

She shook her head again, unsure as to why she felt as though she was disappointing him by once again not knowing; most likely because, if this had been the heads of the facility, she should be ashamed. "Pop culture and mainstream media was a privilege I wasn't old enough to receive. Others knew, not me."

Jameson sighed, mumbling unintelligibly to himself, and while Phoebe tried to hone in on his words, they were truly nonsense and undecipherable, the ramblings of a tired man who had just learned of all he had lost and all he had gained, finally declaring, "We're taking you to normal school, but first, I'm going to educate you."

Walking over to the record player, he pulled out another vinyl, taking a shaky breath before carefully stopping the other record, silence descending upon the room far too fast and far too loud for either of their liking, Jameson turning to look back at his daughter who carefully dunked in her cookie, taking a slow bite as she held his gaze.

"First lesson. The Beatles."

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

( 06.23.17 ; 06.29.19 )

I'm honestly so happy with the way this came out, I liked not having to write her interactions with children at an airport and call that a prologue, I liked that the entire scene of her getting out of the airport and meeting her dad was just one chapter together because we got to meet Phoebe and get hints of who she is and what happened without getting too much, and we saw her and her dad and more of them meeting rather than just a short snippet before a time jump, I'm just really happy.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!