Painted in Crimson ⇨ P. Maximoff

EIGHT

I FORGIVE YOU. I FORGIVE ME.
- KELLY CLARKSON,
I FORGIVE YOU.

•

Rosalind had spent a lot of time with the avengers and had found out that they were not as bad as she initially expected. With the exception of Tony Stark that is, he was just as arrogant and cocky as Rosalind first perceived him to be. Out of all the avengers, Rosalind spent most of her time with Steve. She wasn't quite sure why, maybe it was because she could relate to him. Steve often had nightmares that disturbed his sleep. Flashbacks of war, of losing his best friend.

Rosalind suffered from nightmares too. She had nightmares about the academy, about Pietro dying, about Wanda getting hurt. So that night - and almost every night - Rosalind wandered down to the training area. Sure enough she heard the familiar thumping of Steve's fists hitting the punching bag.

" Woah Cap, take it easy." She said as she walked in. Steve was punching the bag so hard that Rosalind wouldn't have been suprised if it fell from the chain that attached it to the ceiling.

Steve stopped punching the bag and turned his attention to Rosalind.

"Sorry." He said sheepishly, wiping sweat off his forehead. "I got a bit carried away."

"I can see that." Rosalind laughed. Steve sighed and sat down on a near by bench. Rosalind sat down beside him.

" You ready for tomorrow?" She asked.

" To fight a deranged robot who wants to wipe every human off the face of the earth? Yeah I can't wait." He said sarcastically.

" Wow, no need to use that tone of voice with me mister." Rosalind playfully scolded.

They both laughed lightly before lapsing into silence.

"Steve." Rosalind spoke breaking the silence. Steve looked up at her. "I'm sorry for kicking your ass." She said.

"Twice." She added.

Steve laughed and shook his head. "I had you on the ropes."

Once again they fell into a silence. It wasn't an awkward silence though. Steve and Rosalind didn't feel the need to talk every time they were together. They had just decided that it was better to sit together in silence, than in the dark, alone, your memories and nightmares haunting you.

"You should talk to her before we leave you know." Steve stated, looking at Rosalind.

"Who?" Rosalind asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Natasha."

"Steve." Rosalind groaned, like a little child.

"No, no hear me out. Natasha told me about you. About what happened. She told me that she searched day and night for you. She bribed guards for information and broke into the instructors office. You have to understand that she was manipulated. When they told her you were dead, she didn't believe it. Not at first. So the instructors found a girl who looked similar to you. She had recently died in a car crash. They took photos at just the right angle, so you couldn't see the girls face clearly. She truly believed you were dead."