[ COMPLETED ]
BOOK 2 of the ORPHIC series
MONACHOPSIS
/ˈmənˌāˌkōpˌsis/
the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.
~~~~~
Lucille "Lucy" Opal Baker might be the unluckiest person...
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"She was afraid of heights, but she was much more afraid of never flying."
Avengers Tower, New York June, 2014
LUCY PRESSED CLOSE TO JAMES'S side, gripping onto the wall of the elevator tightly with one hand, the other curled around his silver bicep. He remained standing to attention, stiff as his eyes stayed forwards, lost in a thousand-yard stare. He was something between Winter and James, but he was referring to himself as James so Lucy let herself regain some human characteristics. That didn't mean she didn't stop flinching when Stark waved his hands too much, or constantly apologized for seemingly being in the wrong spot or not responding fast enough.
Those were conditioned responses that contributed to trauma; which in turn, became trauma responses that Lucy had very little control over.
This was one of those; a trauma response.
She had to feel James, had to stay in physical contact with him because their medical examination was today and Lucy dreaded every single second that was leading up to that moment. She knew James was too—it was why his mind was far away now. Lucy had tried to lose herself too, let herself go elsewhere, but Steve was a nervous wreck, fidgeting with his pockets, eyes flicking from her, to James, then back to the elevator doors.
James's expression was already blank; she wasn't sure if Steve could deal with both of them staring off into space. So she glanced at him ever so often, catching his gaze and giving him a small reassuring nod, which, in turn, caused him to give her a nod of assurance.
The doors to the elevator slid open and Steve exited the metal box with squared shoulders, a protective look on his face.
Lucy nudged James with her bear, which she'd carefully tucked to her chest. He snapped back to reality. His eyes flicked to her and she kept her hold on him as they exited the elevator before the doors could close in their faces. As soon as they entered the floor, the scent of antiseptic reached her nose, pungent and familiar in all the wrong ways.
There were a few hospital beds pressed alongside the left wall; medical contraptions lined the right wall, all which seemed to tower over her. The room was vast, wide, and did not feel as cluttered as HYDRA's lab was. There were no metal tables with jeering cuffs; there were no HYDRA agents with batons.
Instead, there was Tony standing at the center with an east asian woman she did not recognize. The lady wasn't wearing a white lab coat, but she did have a stethoscope hanging around her neck. She must've been Helen Cho then.
