Natasha Stark: Act

Chapter 27:

Tasha: I walked down the hall from my room. There were pictures hanging on the wall. I had so often just past these pictures not thinking of their importance. Now I looked at every one.  The one of me when I was fourteen,  showing off a Captain America tee shirt.  The one off me and my mom,  two years before she died.  There was one of Steve and I, eating fondue on one of our dates.  There was one, a favorite of mine,  of a birthday of Steve's we celebrated by watching the 4th of July fireworks in Washington D.C. It showed The two of us,  a giant firework exploding behind us. I closed my eyes, tears filling my eyes. None of these pictures showed me people I could ever see again. All I could see was loss. I sat down on the ground, my back against the opposite wall of the hall. I put my head in my hands, sobbing. "Mom," I whispered, my breath uneven and almost hiccup like, "What am I gonna do?"

Almost like an answer, a knock came on my door. I wipes my tears away, sniffing one last time and looking quickly in the mirror. I looked like I had been crying. For a moment,  I thought about pretending I wasn't home, I decided against it. I just didn't care. I opened the door. Peter stood, looking down at his feet. When I opened the door, he looked up fast. "Hey," he said. 

"Hey," I said,  focusing on keeping my voice even, "Come in."

"Thanks," Peter said, stepping in. "Wow, this place is nice," he said absently,  his eyes scanning the appartment.

"Thanks," I said.

He turned to me, his eyes sympathetic, "How are you holding up Tasha?"

"I've been worse," I said. It wasn't really a lie. Not really the truth. When my mom had died I had been a lot like this, only more angry than sad.

"You don't have to be strong. No one expects you too," Peter said. I sighed.

"I'm pretty much a tee pee in Katrina," I said, my voice a little shaky.

"Not well huh?" Peter asked. He walked over to me, wrapping his arms around me, hugging me. I sniffed, not wanting to cry in front of him.

"Listen," Peter said, "A bunch of Resistance members, or well, ex-Resistance members since the war has pretty much ended, are getting together tonight to have a little memorial for him. If you want to come, it'd mean a lot.  We all know how much you meant to Steve.

I shook my head, "I'm sorry Peter," I said, "I don't know if I can." 

"None of us expect you to be in one piece. We just kind of all want to give our hearts to you, and share stories, that sort of stuff," Peter said. 

I shook my head, " I don't know Peter." 

He looked at me for a long moment, "Well um, I sort of have to bring you there since, due to the fact you were an active Pro Act-ivist. Not that we don't trust you, but we can't have you squeeling off to Daddy." 

"Don't worry," I said, "My daddy squeeling days are long over." 

"I suppose," Peter said. There was tangible silence hanging in the room. You know Tasha a voice in my head said You can't stay holed up in here forever. And you never know, maybe you'll eventually get over Steve and fall for  Peter.

I sighed.  "You know what," I said, "I'll go. When is it exactly?" 

"Around 5," Peter said, "I'll pick you up then and we'll head over to the location." 

"Okay," I said, "Are you going somwhere?" 

"I have to tell them your coming. I'll see you at 5:00," Peter said. Then he left. 

2 hours before he was due to come I stood, facing myself in the mirror. Could I do this? No not really. Should I? Yes, I probably should. It didn't feel right. But it did. I don't know. I needed help.