A Call to Action (Avengers Fan Fiction #1) | REWRITING

Chapter 25

White tiles. Plain, painstakingly white tiles mirrored what I was feeling. Blank. So far...27 tiles.

My eyes moved across a tile for a split second. Damn...lost count. I internally groaned and began to start over. 1... I had been laying in bed for over three hours.

Bored to death.

I had nothing else to do. No one to talk to. Everyone was asleep for once, but then again, it was two in the morning. It was peaceful in the tower. Quiet as a mouse. The only audible sounds were the whizzes and slurs of the power going through the walls and the soft hum from the air conditioning. Silence rang in my ears and sounded like the buzzing of a bee.

12...

A part of me still worried about Peter. He was in the process of recovery, but it was taking forever. I couldn't imagine the pain he was in, but we had no way around that. It had only been a month, so maybe I was just overreacting. He was on bed rest until he fully recovered and was able to start training again. Peter certainly didn't mind it. He caught up on his favorite shows, started new ones, and spent hours learning new material for his college courses.

On the other hand, I still felt the guilt. It ate at me like a deadly virus, picking constantly at my organs until it consumed all of it. If I would have seen the laser, I could've stopped the bullet before it hit anyone. I could have... I mentally beat myself up.

25...

A light tapping came from the wall.

My eyes shifted to where the sound originated from and my mind left the bored state it had been in. This was new. I waited for a second to see if what I had heard had been real. Steve talking to me in the middle of the night? I didn't even know he was awake.

".... .." Loosely translated: Hi.

Ah, Morse code. How I have missed you so. I used to talk to my mother at night using the code by tapping my pencil against my desk. My father thought I was studying, but my mother and I would have numerous conversations. She's the one that taught me, after all. My mother used to be in the Air Force. What she did, well, I wasn't too sure about that. She never discussed it with us. But, when she came home, she was extremely paranoid. She thought it would be useful under the circumstance if something happened and she told me to stay inside of my room and hide. The people in our house would never know what was going on, and they sure as hell weren't going to find me. It would have come in handy if Stryker hadn't taken us by surprise.

I hesitated with my hand hovering over the wall. I didn't know if this was a great idea. It could wake up Peter, who was sleeping across the hall. I replied. Why are you still awake?

Steve's fingers drummed against the wall. Can't sleep.

"-- . / - --- --- .-.-.-" Me too. Wow. I forgot how long it took to code a simple sentence.

"-.-. .- -. / .-- . / - .- .-.. -.- ..--.." Can we talk?

Oh god. The dreaded 'Can we Talk?'. In any situation, it was a terrible thing. It either meant something good was about to happen, or something entirely excruciating. That was a gigantic difference. But what was it about this time? The fact that we fought while strategizing, or how I literally ripped the metal out of a woman's blood? God, I really hope it wasn't the latter.

"-.-- --- ..- / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / - .... . .-. . ..--.." You still there?

I was ripped out of my thoughts and focused. What he had to say might be important. I put my black framed glasses on and tiptoed out of my room. My finger nail scraped against the white wooden door. "--- .--. . -. / - .... . / -.. --- --- .-." Open the door.