verb.
To come or go back to a place or person.
noun.
The firing of a weapon to counter a shooter's shot.
•
They recoiled from their pasts, and in doing so found each other.
But the universe isn't kind enough to let a moment of peace last.
It took se...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Four Years Since the Snap
The sound of heavy raindrops pattering on the rusted metal of the fire escape was oddly soothing. It blanketed the other nighttime sounds of the city as Kat climbed the ladder up past the ground floor of the building, her foot almost slipping on a wrung as she pulled herself up. Almost. Her hands stayed sure, because now she knew that if she slipped, the only one there to catch her was herself.
Grimacing at the chill of the raindrops running down the back of her neck, she vaulted over the rail that separated the fire escape from the third-floor apartment. Her clothes and hair clung to her skin like oil after her hurried dash through the streets of Brooklyn, her shoes squelching almost comically with each step. On her back, the heavy rucksack was dragged down by the water it had absorbed, but she knew the liner would keep the contents dry. For a moment, she hesitated outside the old sash window, running her fingers along the sill thoughtfully as her tongue pressed against her lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood welling in the fresh split there. There was no light on in the room beyond the curtains. The place might be empty.
If it was, at least it would still be dry. A place to crash for the night whilst she regathered her bearings. Whilst she planned her next move – not that much thought ever really went into her motions, but that was slightly the point. If she kept moving, she couldn't stop to think.
Blinking heavily as a raindrop slithered off the guttering overhead and landed directly on her eyelashes, she sighed and reached for the knife concealed in her back pocket. A swift swipe of the blade between the seams of the window frame unhooked the latch, leaving her to brace the heel of her hands against the wood and push it upwards with a soft grunt.
It didn't provide much resistance; the hinges must have been oiled recently. There was only the soft scrape of wood over wood to disturb the silence of the room within. It was useless courtesy that made Kat stop to try and shake some of the rain droplets from her boots before she stepped through the open window, ducking low to ensure her bag wouldn't catch as she set her feet to the polished floorboards inside.
It was just as she straightened in the quiet darkness and had moved to slide the window closed that the room suddenly flooded with light, the soft click of a switch being flipped the only accompaniment to the abrupt change.
"You know, I have a door."
Steve's soft words made Kat's shoulder's rise sheepishly as she slid the glass back down over the sodden world beyond, muffling the sounds of the rain on the metal walkway outside as she did so.
"Didn't know if you'd be in to answer it."
"I have a phone too. Y'know, sometimes people call before they break into their friends' apartments in the middle of the night."
"Sorry." The quiet apology left her as she jammed her hands into the soaked pockets of her jacket, turning at last to look across the sparsely decorated living room to where Steve stood, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. His hair was slightly mussed from sleeping, his eyes a little heavy, but otherwise he looked in as good shape as he had been when she last saw him months ago. No matter what happened in the world, Steve Rogers always managed to keep himself composed. Awkwardly, she offered him a tight smile, half-scuffing her foot against the floor and grimacing as the rubber sole of her wet boot squeaked in protest.
