Disoriented » Captain America

chapter eighteen

18 x hear me roar

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"Absolutely not."

It was my first thought, my instinctive response, and it was something I would stand by. My resolve was firm in this matter, something Logan knew well, and I was fully aware it shone through in the way I clenched my jaw and crossed my arms tightly over my chest.

The response didn't fail to surprise the rest of the room, however, yet I was not about to stick around and hear their pleas, or even the thoughts of the Avengers. With one short look at Steve, checking that he didn't look entirely off-put by my abrupt statement (he didn't), I turned my attention back to the X-Men. "You know what, I can't . . . I'm not even going to credit this with an explanation yet, or even allow you to try and wheedle your way into getting my assistance. I need a minute. No, I need an hour -- or three."

Steve looked ready to protest at that, and I stopped him before he could; "I'll be back in no time," I assured him, my gaze softening as he moved toward me quickly, reaching for my arm. I leaned into his hold and took a deep breath, before nodding one to myself, "I'll be at the Facility. Then I'll come back. Just need to clear my head," I said the last part loud enough to be heard by everyone.

Before anyone else could speak, I was gone.

--

"You've got a real bad habit of appearing outta thin air, did you know that?" Bucky asked me the moment I teleported myself into the Facility's training room.

I was surprised he was the only person there, but then I took a second to remember that the other team members still didn't know what to do with him yet, and shoved those thoughts aside. Instead I gave a shrug with my arms spread, "You know what they say about old habits."

Of course, the pun and movie reference in it's entirety was lost on him, but it made me smile all the same.

He rolled his eyes. "I thought you were at the Tower with Steve. Scratch that -- I thought you'd been unconscious." He was unwrapping his hand now, because apparently he'd been practicing his boxing -- or some form thereof -- and moving toward the bench I'd gone to sit on as he did so.

"I woke up," I said simply.

"Sounded like a pretty hard hit," Bucky proceeded then, finishing unwrapping his flesh hand as he took a seat beside me. "Had to be if it took you out, right?"

I almost smiled at that, but for whatever reason, the joy I usually would've felt at his general acknowledgement of me and my ability was . . . lost. "It was," I finally admitted, kicking my legs out in front of me and leaning back against the bench. "Asgardian technology, still not sure what it did . . . except reveal me to the X-Men."

Bucky took a moment of thoughtful silence at that, and I tried my best to contain the rise of anger I felt just at considering the X-Men's plea. Logan knew very well why I wouldn't want to assist them in something so huge as the protection of human and mutant kind -- my involvement in any event that could turn fantastically historical was a big no-no in my book. It was, I had learned early on, how set points in time were created. Not to even mention that, with my abilities, it could turn into a catastrophic situation in a matter of seconds.

Especially if I were to go on a rampage at the injustice being inflicted on so many. Honestly, that was the reason I strayed away from assisting in huge events -- I may have appeared calm and in control at any given moment, but I had a temper that could rival that of the Hulk, and with much greater consequences. If I lost my head and took out an entire army for the sake of justice, it would have a much greater impact on the world than say, the destruction caused by a giant green-rage monster, sheerly because of the fact that my means were temporal and spatial.

Meaning I could go back in time and remove the oppressor's existence.

"X-Men," Bucky said then, drawing me out of my thoughts, "aren't they, you know, their own special brand of crazy?"

"Generally, yes," I agreed with a quiet sigh. "They're pretty powerful, though, so it's not like they often need help."

I could feel him side-eyeing me. "So it must be a pretty big deal if they came looking for you, huh?"

Given the current circumstances, I'd decided to abandon my usual façade of neutrality. There really wasn't much of a point to it right now.

I was mad -- no, furious -- and there was no point in hiding it. "Not necessarily," I said frankly, my expression sour. "There's a much higher probability that they're just eager to get the entire thing over and done with with as little effort and consequence as possible. Yet no one seems to understand that coming to me for help invokes far more consequence than, oh I don't know, handling it yourself!"

My voice had gotten progressively louder, my muscles tensing as I spoke, and Bucky took note in it, staring at me unabashedly now. He gave me another second to fume before, "You helped Steve a lot, though."

I scowled at him at that. "Steve's situations didn't call on me to stop the main villain. If you'll notice, in any and all situations across his timeline, he did that himself."

Bucky hummed, nodding thoughtfully at that. "Fair point."

We sat in a long silence after that, me with my arms crossed over my chest and in a silent temper tantrum (I didn't care if it was childish) while he sat forward, leaning on his knees. He was more solemn than I, a new twist to our interactions, and I was so enraged that I almost felt the need to teleport off to some desolate place and destroy things until I felt more under-control.

I'd told Steve I'd stay on planet though. It -- no, he --  was the only thing keeping me here.

"So what're you going to do?" Bucky asked me then, nudging my arm gently so as to receive my attention. "And don't say nothing, 'cause we both know that'd be a lie."

I sighed loudly at that, uncrossing my arms and rubbing my hands over my face. What was I going to do? There wasn't an easy answer. "They involved the Avengers," I said through my hands, thinking out loud. "That means all of you . . . I can't just let you . . ."

"I wasn't worried 'bout you leaving us," Bucky said calmly.

I peeked between my fingers to see him, only to find he was still watching me patiently, and expectantly.

"Let's be honest, Jo, you're not gonna ditch us," he pointed out. "So what are you gonna do? You gonna step up and be yourself here? I mean, I'm not saying let 'em boss you around, or even compromise your usual rules for . . . whatever you wanna call what you do. But you can help, and you know it. So: what're you gonna do?"

I fell into quiet at that, my mind kicking back into it's usual buzzing at a billion miles a minute, and a slow (if not a tad devilish) smile lifted my lips. I straightened then, my hands falling completely away from my face, and then I got to my feet, squeezing Bucky's shoulder as I did. "Probably something outlandish and a little impossible. And definitely yell at a few people," I said honestly, already beginning to return to my usual self. "But first . . . I need to make a little trip."

Bucky grinned. "Atta girl."

Then I was gone. If only I had realized before then that my feeling off was a bigger deal than I was giving it credit for . . .