Captain America: The Phoenix

17. Getting to Know You

Quinn awoke to Lieutenant Wentworth's husky, resonant voice as well as his hand gently shaking her shoulder awake.

He stopped as she opened her eyes. "We're here, Miss Rivera."

Quinn blinked herself awake as she sat up, looking to her right to see the back of the quinjet opened. They were back in the hangar of the facility.

"Right." She muttered as she stood and grabbed the box off of the floor. She thanked the lieutenant for waiting on her that day.

"'Course, Miss Rivera," he saluted, "anything you need."

Quinn found herself walking from the hangar, through the empty white corridors of the facility. She felt like a zombie, tired and lacking much energy—but no longer sleepy at all.

She found herself sitting in the common room on the plush couch they had in there, the box sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

She took a deep breath before taking the lid off once more, staring into the pile of all kinds of different things that belonged to her mother.

She grabbed the broken frame, holding it to her chest as she remembered the fond memory. That day represented something for her—her mother's undying determination to do everything to make her happy.

Tears streamed down her face as she closed her eyes, allowing them to. Her heart felt as though it was dragging itself away from her chest, down to her stomach. It was a hopeless and miserable feeling, knowing that she was never going to see her mother again.

As she opened her eyes and allowed her tears to subside, she then became more alert, hearing a very faint shuffling behind her. It was a couple of feet away and she could almost sense who it was from the sheer energy.

She sighed, irritated slightly, wiping her tears off of her cheeks, before acknowledging the presence.

"You really didn't have to wait up," Quinn sardonically remarked, trying to hide the nasally, post-cry quality in her voice.

"How did you know it was me?" He asked.

Quinn let out a slightly peeved chuckle, "because it's always you."

She put the frame on the coffee table as she refused to allow his presence to keep her from going through those items.

"May I come in?" He asked.

She let out another sigh, contemplating if she really wanted to show more of this side of herself to him. "Sure."

It seemed her mouth instinctively answered for her. She cursed herself under her breath, regretting her answer immediately as she heard his footsteps approach.

She didn't bother looking up as he appeared beside her and sat in the empty space on the couch.

"This was, um," Quinn cleared her throat, stabilizing her voice, "some stuff she always kept under her bed. Seemed pretty important."

He reached for the frame in front of him, holding it in his hand and staring down at the photo, Quinn not noticing as she coughed from the dust cloud coming from the box.

She grabbed a pile of notes, postcards and random pieces of paper, skimming through them.Steve could've sworn he caught her smile at one of the small pieces of paper. It was a drawing of a lion, sitting on a bed of green.

"Not bad," he remarked with a small chuckle. "Might've gone with the wrong crayon, though."She gave a small laugh, but it was large enough to be a victory for him. "No, I always remember dreaming about this red-haired lion when I was a kid. Just maybe not that red."