When Lilly was sixteen, the Avengers pulled her out of a Hydra base. She didn’t talk. Didn’t fight. Didn’t ask for anything. They just… kept her. Protected her. Let her become part of them. They thought Hydra had taken everything from her. They never thought Hydra could be family.

A year later, Tony said her name with that too excited smile.

Tony: “Okay, kid—surprise. I found your parents.”

Lilly froze—barely. Barely enough to notice. But Tony didn’t notice small things.

She nodded.

She always nodded.

Her parents arrived just past sunset. Elegant. Warm. Perfectly normal. The kind of people who made everyone else feel slightly underdressed.

Mother: “Lilly! Look at you!”

She hugged Lilly delicately at the shoulders.

Father: “You’ve grown.”

There was no mention of Hydra. No slip of tone. No wrongness in the words.

Just… parents.

Or what parents are supposed to be.

The team relaxed. Steve shook their hands kindly. Natasha greeted them politely. Wanda smiled because Lilly smiled. Bucky watched quietly from the corner, just out of habit.

Dinner was easy.

Laughing. Stories. A gentle sort of domestic peace that felt rare in the compound.

Mother complimented the food. Father complimented the technology. Tony basked, proud of himself.

It felt right.

Lilly spoke softly, but she spoke. Smiled. Even laughed once.

Tony leaned back, satisfied.

Tony: “See? Good. This is good.”

And it was.

Near the end of dinner, Lilly reached for her glass. Her hand shook—just barely.

Small. So small no one would have seen it.

Except her mother’s hand landed gently on Lilly’s wrist. Not tight. Not dramatic. Just a touch. Lilly’s hand stilled instantly. Mother didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at her. But Lilly sat straighter. Shoulders pulled back. Breath held for exactly two seconds.

Automatic.

Practiced.

Habit older than Hydra.

Wanda blinked. She felt… something. Like a memory that wasn’t words.

But it vanished before she could name it.

Father smiled warmly at Tony.

Father: “We are so grateful she was found and cared for here.”

Tony grinned. “Well. She’s family.”

Mother’s smile didn’t change.

But Lilly’s eyes flickered.

Just once.

They left with hugs. Expressions of gratitude. Polite warmth.

The door closed.

Tony stretched, proud.

Tony: “See? That went perfectly.”

Steve nodded. Natasha agreed. Everyone breathed out.

Everyone except Lilly.

She stood very still.

Very quiet.

Wanda touched her hand gently.

Wanda: “Are you alright?”

Lilly smiled.

And it was the perfect smile.

Rehearsed. Precise. Empty.

Lilly: “Of course. I’m okay.”

Everyone accepted that answer.

They always did.

She went to her room alone.

She sat on the floor. Back straight. Hands folded. Breathing silent.

Automatic.

Learned long before Hydra ever found her.

Just one rule:

Stillness means safety.