Impulse (S.R) Book 2

Chapter 1 - Spokes

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel; only Rebecca and the world surrounding her.

Spokes – Jetty Bones

Welcome to Impulse from the To Build A Home Series!

Thanks to everyone that reviewed, favorited, and subscribed to this story so far!

I can't believe we're officially here at Book 2. Lithe was such a big thing I took upon, and now to continue this story is something I really didn't think I would do. Ever. But I am and it's all thanks to every single one of you who read this story and have been supporting.

So...Here we go!

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Spokes

Listen close, listen in

The wind is trying to talk to you

To warn you that the warmth will be leaving

While you're soundly sleeping it off

You can try to speak

You can try to move forward

But your hands won't work on the rocks

They'll slip

Your grip has become toxic to progress

December 15, 2012

The cold air ran deep in her chest as she took a deep breath. It was a smell of wet dirt and a hint of possible snow in the air. The damp Earth soaked into her jeans as she kneeled, gloved hands digging at the ground. She finally placed the grave blanket in the center; a mix of white and red flowers surrounding a red bow in the pine needles. The sight was all but perfect against the grave stone. It would only be better if the grave wouldn't have to be there at all.

Becca Stark rose to her feet, wiping off the knees of her jeans to the best of her ability. She knew she should have brought a blanket along but her mind was worried about the florist. This was the fourth grave blanket she had ordered. The first three had not been what she ordered. It might have been just the perfectionist in her, but the man deserved the absolute best. The fourth was perfect. Exactly what she wanted.

The last time she visited the grave was right before Thanksgiving. Steve had accompanied her for the visit before the two flew out to California to celebrate with her family. Times before that was sometimes with Natasha when she had been passing through New York, more often than not by herself. At first it had always ended with Becca crying but now, six months later, she was able to get by with each passing visit. She couldn't feel him there though, and that was concerning her. She desperately wanted to feel his spirit near her as she sat on the ground, but nothing ever felt right. The guilt hanging in her mind that because it was her fault he was in the ground she wasn't worthy enough to feel him with her.

The dancer shook her curled locks at the dangerous thoughts lingering, knowing this wasn't a time to grieve. This was her Christmas moment with him. But as the breeze picked up around her in the cemetery, it was anything but welcoming. It was frigid and harsh against her uncovered skin. Almost telling her to leave now, that she wasn't wanted there anymore. An ache thundering in her chest.