Inheritance of ash

Day three - part two

She pressed her hand flat to the door, choking back another sob. "You always thought I was too young to feel like this, right? You never said it, but I know you thought it." She tried—just barely—to make her tone teasing. "Well, James Buchanan Barnes, you're too old to be feeling like this."

Her knees drew closer to her chest. She leaned her head against the door again, whispering, "But you're still too young to die. Okay? You can't... die. So come out. Get your fossil maintenance. Eat something. Drink something. Maybe even put your stupid arm in the dishwasher. Whatever."

Her voice cracked as she added, softer, "Please."

The silence stretched, endless and cruel.

No shuffling. No creak of bedsprings. No faintest breath against the wood. Just the same void that had filled his room for the last three days.

Her hand stayed against the door anyway, fingers splayed, palm warm against the barrier. She whispered one last promise, quiet as prayer.

"I'll be here. Always. Forever."

⸻

The garage door creaked shut behind them, the hum of Yelena's motorcycle still faint in their ears as she rolled it in. Kate set down the helmet, hair sticking to her forehead, cheeks pink from the late afternoon air. Pietro walked next to her, still trembling, jaw tight. He tried shoving his hands into his pockets to hide it, but the restless twitch in his fingers gave him away.

Kate opened her mouth, gentle. "She'll be fine. Maybe she just... needed space after what she read."

But Pietro's shoulders went rigid, and his answer was sharp, too sharp. "Don't."

Kate flinched, Yelena's hand brushing her arm in warning. They let him be. He didn't want ideas. He didn't want reassurance.

He just wanted his sister back.

They slipped through the garage, careful not to make noise. But halfway down the hall, someone rounded the corner.

Peter.

With mascara streaked down his cheeks.

Kate froze mid-step. Stared. Blinked. "..." Nothing came out. Her brain short-circuited.

Pietro didn't even notice, too busy pacing, pulling his phone out again to try Wanda's number.

"Did you find her yet?" Peter asked, voice soft, acting like his face wasn't a mess.

"No," Yelena said easily, like she hadn't even clocked the black smudges on his face. "Did you see her come home?"

"Just came from my room," Peter shrugged, like the situation was completely normal.

Kate's jaw had been hanging open this whole time. She turned from Peter's face to Pietro pacing to Yelena's deadpan calm. Finally she snapped.

"AREN'T WE GONNA SAY SOMETHING?!"

All three stopped. Yelena gave Peter another glance, then looked back at Kate and shrugged. "It's Parker. I'm sure he has a reason."

Kate's jaw dropped even further. "WHAT—" She looked between them, incredulous, before blurting: "Why the fuck do you look like a runway model that just lost a beauty contest. In drag."

Peter froze, hand flying up to his face, realizing only now that the mascara streaks were still there.

Yelena—like she had been waiting for this exact moment—pulled a tissue from God knows where and handed it over.

Kate was still staring, waiting for an answer.

Pietro muttered under his breath, not even looking. "I'm going back out. I'll find her myself." He was seconds from speeding off again when Yelena's hand shot out and grabbed his hoodie, yanking him back in place with ease.