I left the room immediately, returning to base. I kept passing through things before running into them. I was lucky I didn't get stuck in something. I had barely enough time to grab Trip's Commando gear. As I was leaving, the doors slid open, revealing the team.
But they looked right through me. I looked down, to see nothing. I was invisible. Skye walked right through me, shivering slightly. I was a ghost.
Was this from the Obelisk? Was I cursed? Cursed to roam the Earth, unable to be seen or touched? Seeing Trip die every time I closed my eyes? Tears fell, going right through me and making small wet marks on the floor.
Oh, god. Trip. He was gone. I kept waiting for him to round the corner, to joke that I was now a shadow. To hug me and tell me everything was going to be alright. To see me and touch me.
The first thing I did was go to Trip's hometown, determined to find his mother. I walked into the correct building, going up to the front desk after willing myself to be seen and heard. "I'm looking for Mrs. Triplett," I said. "Oh, third floor. Just curious, but why?" The receptionist asked. "Oh, I, uh, work with her son," I said, before heading up to the correct apartment and knocking.
The door opened to reveal an older woman. She stared at the case in my hand before looking at me. She started sobbing, and I embraced her, rubbing her back as I restrained tears. "I am so, so sorry. I was there. He died a good man," my voice broke. My eyes landed on a portrait of the Howling Commandos.
-
Location: Huntsville, Alabama
I took a deep breath, willing myself to be known, before knocking on the door. It creaked open to reveal my ninety-six-year-old grandfather. "Iva? You're alive?" He breathed. "Hi, gramps," I said, hugging him. "Oh! You're so big!" He said, sounding as old as he was.
"Well, it has been twenty-two years," I pointed out, and he grinned. "Come in, come in," I entered, taking a seat on his couch. "What happened to your eye?" He asked, pointing to my eyepatch. "Oh, um, factory accident," I lied, and he shook his head. "Tell me the truth, Iva," he scolded.
"Fine. The Winter Soldier shot me. And, um, my name's Asya now," I said. "Asya. I like it, it sounds nice," he said, testing the name out. I smiled weakly. "So, why has it taken my beloved granddaughter twenty-two years to visit me?" He asked. "I...I can't say. Confidentiality," I admitted.
"Does anyone else know?" He asked. "My...my team, mom, and Uncle Nick," I said. "Fury is dead," he said sadly. "Aw, gramps. He's a very hard man to kill. Trust me, he's out there," I assured him, setting my hand on his. "So, any boys I need to lecture?" Tears formed in my eye, and I hung my head.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said softly. "It's my fault he's dead. I should've stopped him," I croaked. "Asya, honey, I told myself the same thing about Barnes for years and years. Then, I realized blaming myself wouldn't do anything. I just accepted it and moved on," he said. "O-okay,"
-
The Playground, Location: Classified
"You alright?" May asked, and Skye nodded breathily. I knocked on the wall, everyone turning to me. "Asya. Y--You're alright," Simmons stuttered. "Physically, yeah. Mentally, though..." I trailed off. "Asya, I, uh, need to get a blood sample from you," Fitz said.
"No need. I've changed," I finally stopped willing myself, because it was draining, and they all exclaimed. "Where'd you go?" Skye exclaimed, and I willed myself to reappear. "I--It's weird. Sometimes I'm tangible, sometimes I'm not. Then, sometimes I'm visible, then I'm not. I can't control it. I can barely make myself known," I said. "So you're a ghost," May said. "Yeah," I nodded slightly.
-
"Or that time when Trip tossed me the mag on the burnside raid and it fell down the sewer grate," we all laughed. We were gathered in the lounge, trading stories about Trip. "Yeah, what did he say again?" May asked. "'Good catch, soccer hands,'" Hunter said, everyone laughing again. "Did he ever tell you about the time his grandpa took him to Grandfather Mountain when he was a child in North Carolina?" Simmons asked, smiling.
"Mnh-mnh," May said, taking a sip of beer. "Well, he gets there, and they pull up to the gate, and his grandfather...and then Triplett...his grandfather comes down...and he says 'I'm sorry, Grampa. I thought you owned the whole mountain.' He'd be mad I told you that story," Simmons laughed. "No, he'd say 'Come on, girl.'" The laughter soon died out, everyone remembering what happened. It stung, like salt in a wound. Or dust in your eyes.
"We're gonna laugh a lot less--that's for sure,"
a/n ya girl's got an interview for Early College tomorrow. And I get to go back to school full time tomorrow (five days a week, seven hours a day) and I'm already stressed and anxious. Yay.