"Hello, my name is Sharon Carter. But you can just call me Sharon. We're about the same age, so calling me 'aunt' feels a bit strange," she said with a smile.
Abel reached out to shake her hand, returning the smile. "Nice to meet you, Sharon. I'm Abel Shaw, but you can just call me Abel."
It had been seven or eight years since he'd seen any distant relatives, and it surprised him that his mother had suddenly reconnected with one.
"Okay, let's hurry up and eat," Treya said, gesturing for Abel and Sharon to sit down for dinner.
Abel was used to his mother's cooking, but it was Sharon's first time trying it. She was so astonished that she almost bit her tongue, showering Treya with compliments as she tried each dish. After dessert, she leaned back in her chair with a contented smile.
"Trea, your cooking is incredible! You could easily be a chef at a Michelin three-star restaurant."
Treya had heard this kind of praise countless times, but it still made her happy, especially coming from Sharon. The two women continued chatting animatedly, while Abel sat nearby, sipping his tea, slightly frowning.
The name Sharon Carter was familiar to him, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Most of his memories from before coming to this world were hazy unless they were particularly important. If only he had a Pensieve, he thought, he could extract his memories and review them. But considering he hadn't even perfected his wand yet, creating a Pensieve seemed a distant fantasy.
'No point in overthinking,' Abel thought to himself. 'If she means no harm, there's nothing to worry about. But if she has ulterior motives, I'll act to protect my mother.'
"Sharon, why don't you stay the night?" Treya offered. "We have plenty of room."
Sharon shook her head. "Thanks, but I have class early tomorrow morning. I'll definitely come by during my next break, though."
"Then let me drive you to the subway station—it's already late."
"Well, if you insist... thank you."
After saying goodbye to Abel, Treya grabbed her coat and headed out with Sharon to drive her to the subway.
Abel stayed behind to clean up the table, putting the dishes and silverware into the sink. Treya, a Michelin-level chef, always insisted that dishwashers didn't clean things properly, so Abel washed everything by hand. When it came to the kitchen, he trusted the chef's judgment!
After tidying up, Abel returned to his room. He saw that the second batch of materials he had ordered from eBay and Amazon had been shipped, but he paid them no mind. He sat down at his desk with a cup of black tea and began reading, enjoying the quiet moment.
Meanwhile, Treya had pulled up to the subway station. Sharon attended the State University of New York at Stony Brook, an Ivy League school about an hour and a half from downtown New York. The subway made the commute much faster.
It wasn't too late yet—just past seven or eight in the evening.
After saying goodbye to Sharon, Treya headed back home.
As she watched Treya drive away, Sharon pulled out her phone, dialed a number, and spoke softly. "Sir, I'm done."
Agent Phil Coulson's voice came through the line. "Sharon, I'm sorry to have put you in a position where you have to monitor your own friends."
"Sir, it's fine. This was my choice. I'd rather be the one watching them than have some stranger do it. This way, I can avoid any misunderstandings and do a better job. It's a win-win."
"But if things go wrong, you could be in danger, and you risk losing those friends. If you want, I can have another agent take over. I assure you, they'll be professional and fair."
"Thank you, sir, but I'm committed to this mission. Besides, we're not even sure Abel is the target. So far, I've seen nothing unusual. From what I can tell, they're just a normal mother and son. Abel's maturity may seem unusual for his age, but there's nothing overtly suspicious."
"I understand, but Abel is our top suspect in Kilgrave's death. While we don't have concrete proof, the likelihood that he's our target is over 80%. We need you to keep an eye on him, and make sure he doesn't go down the wrong path. If he does, we'll have to intervene."
"I understand, sir. But I prefer to think of him not as Kilgrave's killer, but as the one who saved Jessica Jones."
"Fair enough. I'll take note of that for future reference. Stay safe, Sharon. Goodbye."
Sharon hung up the phone and stared at the subway as it rushed past. She sighed, her expression momentarily uncertain before it firmed up again. As Peggy Carter's niece, Sharon had always strived to live up to her aunt's legacy. But now, faced with monitoring people she cared about, she realized that staying objective wasn't as easy as she'd thought.
'I hope Abel isn't the one we're looking for,' she thought. 'I hope he's not a bad person.'
The weekend passed quickly, as it always did.
After his usual morning run, Abel slung his backpack over his shoulder and rode his bike to school. Parking it, he spotted his friend Sean approaching.
"Sean, you've got massive dark circles under your eyes," Abel teased, smiling.
Sean sheepishly scratched his unwashed hair. "Don't even ask. I was trying to beat Assassin's Creed last night, but man, that game is brutal. By the time I made any progress, the sun was already coming up."
"I just hope you don't fall asleep in class," Abel said with a chuckle. "You know how strict Mrs. Frey is."
"I'll try my best," Sean groaned, "but I'm already regretting last night's gaming session."
As Sean rambled on, Abel's attention shifted. His eyes locked onto a girl entering the school, and he immediately sensed something deeply wrong. An overwhelming aura of evil radiated from her, surpassing even the darkest Death Eaters from his previous life. Not even Voldemort's malice compared to this girl's. Her presence was like an endless, malevolent void.
'Someone like that showing up at school... there's bound to be trouble.'