(song above dedicated to Natasha Romanoff)
NATASHA:
I bring the bike to a stop slowly, flexing my fingers that were holding the handles for at least an hour. I put my finger to my ear. "You guys go on ahead to the coast and find where Esther and Loki went. Bruce and I will work on finding Barton."
"Keep in touch. I want to know if anything happens, got it?" Tony says.
"Come on I've got the Hulk with me, remember?" I smirk a bit.
"...That's what I'm worried about."
I hesitate and look over at my raging partner that's tossing some broken cars to contain his rage.
He's loud and those creatures are attracted to that.
I can hear some screeching in the distance that frightens me a tad. I need to calm him down now. But how?
"Bruce..." I say carefully. "You need to relax for a moment those things are attracted to noise. We won't be able to go undetected with you in this form," I try to reason with him, hoping Banner is down there and that he can do as I say or even hear me.
He just growls, as if fighting his other form to try and make out what I am saying. I know he can understand English in that form... right?
"Buddy?" I say hesitantly as I slowly near him.
He almost roars at me and does not want me talking to him, his feet shuffling around in the rubble.
Does he have a method already? What can I say to him that will get the real Bruce back?
I think hard for a moment as I stand there helplessly. Then it hits me. He and I had a conversation earlier about his mother and there was something she used to say to him... what was it?
I remember then the story. Once when he was small he ran away from home after a fight with his dad. Luckily he had a cell phone and his mother was able to call him. He didn't answer at first because he was upset but he listened to her voicemail. I remember what she told him. Maybe that would help me.
"Hey big guy..." I say cautiously as I step closer to him.
He is calmer now but his eyes catch mine as I stare right back and say to him with meaning... "The sun's gettin' real low..."
I can see Bruce's eyes... He's in there. And he heard me. Hulk's expression shifts a bit but he's still not giving in completely.
What else could I try?
I could try what his old girlfriend tried when he first became the Hulk. She and him stayed together for a while and had different ways of coping with Banner's condition. But he let her go so she could start a family and have a normal life.
I put my hand up slowly, showing my palm to him, my expression unsure if this will work.
He nears me hesitantly, Hulk fighting it almost but Banner recognizes what I am trying to do. So he steps to where I am, his large green hand lifted like mine before I let my palm face the sky, my hand at stomach level and he copies my motion. I take my finger and gently glide it down his wrist and across the center of his palm, gently trailing it down until it reaches the tip of his middle finger. I retrieve my hand, my eyes looking deep into his and seeing no more Hulk, only Bruce looking back at me, his eyes kind and mesmerized that I knew to do this. He always assumes people don't care about him. But I was listening.
He breathes heavily and stumbles back, collapsing a bit and letting his hands catch him. He grunts in pain and groans, his enormous olive muscles shrinking to fit his normal size.
He is on the ground, heaving in pain and exhaustion as he begins to return to his normal shade and size, his baggy pants much too big for him now. I walk over and put a hand at his back, feeling sweat on my palm. "You okay?"
He doesn't answer as he tries to regain his breath and energy.
I crouch down with a concerned look on my face and help him as he gradually returns to normal breaths. "...Sometimes I forget what you have to go through to change form..." I say quietly.
He huffs for a long time, sweating as he holds his large pants up so they don't fall down, his knees on the ground now until he removes his palms from the concrete and sits up, still a bit hunched over. "I wish I could say I was used to it by now," he breathes. "...But it's still painful every time he shows up..."
"...We should hesitate more giving a code green... But if we didn't do it this time at least one of us would have died." I smile just a little at him. "You definitely got us through that alien blockade."
He returns my gaze with tired eyes... "Well... I was happy to help," he almost jokes, copying my tone.
I smirk at him. "Come on big guy. Let's find you some pants."
He snickers and looks down with embarrassment.
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WANDA:
We spend a while driving through the city in silence. When we found the entrance ramp to the highway was blown up we had to take some alternative routes as the last of the sunlight creeps below the horizon.
We pass decimated buildings and ghost towns, everyone either evacuated or... left here. The radio in the car plays whatever station we can get anymore. It's just news of course. Martial law and warnings for people to stay underground or find shelter.
There are no more bombs being fired on the city, but we can still see the silhouette of Nebula's ship in the sky, the sun highlighting the edges of the massive orb through blankets of cloud.
I look around me, seeing people walking in the streets and smiling, waving at each other. They are all doing what they have done every day... I wonder to myself what their stories are—that's when the bombs hit and the aliens scatter about killing mercilessly—blood and pain—
I cringe and blink away the images.
"Wanda," A gentle voice says with concern.
I open my eyes and look into Steve's blue ones, letting them calm me.
His are then cast down and he reaches over to turn off the radio, fiddling with it a bit too much.
I'm not in the mood to laugh but I do smile at his struggle and lean over to press the power button myself. "I'm sorry... my mind has a way of... taking me," I tell him.
His eyes are on the road again. "...I would think an enhancement like that would make your mind a very cluttered place... nightmares and anxiety..."
"Both... yes..." I look at my fingers that fumble together. "I've learned to live with it over the years. They're a part of me now."
"They don't have to be."
I look over at him as if he knows something I don't.
He glances at me and turns his expression serious. "I may seem like the kind of guy who is always in control and never frightened or stressed or... depressed. But the truth is I go through the same stuff you do, Wanda."
"Not exactly," I say that sounds spiteful but it's not how I meant it.
"...More like different but equal. But the core issues... anxiety, depression, pain, loss, sadness... Both of us have too much of it."
"But you don't... You're not the same. I ended up a shattered person and you are a hero; a pure man; ...a good man. You're different than anyone I've known... Why is it you are so different than me?"
"Well... we have been through a lot but what makes people different is where their heart is. What do you love in this world?"
I think on his words... but don't know the answer. "What do you love?"
"I value everything that can't be seen; honor, love, devotion... and with people... what's inside of them. Not what they are or where they come from. It's perspective that changes everything. I don't search for happiness. I want to serve. That's it."
"Are you saying searching for happiness is bad?"
"No of course not. But if all we do is look for things to make us happy then we end up on the far opposite of what we want."
I squint slightly, turning my head to the side. "How so?"
He hesitates and thinks, working a muscle in his cheek before he answers. "I grew up in a state of mind that happiness was out there somehow. That only if this something was different I would be content. If only my situation changed I would be fulfilled..."
"And what happened? Don't tell me you got religion."
He doesn't reply and his jaw tenses a bit, his brows pulling together as he continues to keep his eyes on the road and not look at me.
Immediately I backtrack. What I said sounded... not how I meant. "I didn't mean it lik—"
"I know... It's okay." He glances at me then looks back at the road. He takes a breath before he answers. "My parents were Catholic. So I grew up relatively on that religion. But other than my mom having a rosary and occasionally taking me to a church, she didn't really live an example or teach me anything so I didn't really get perspective of it all. I had to find my own faith... and I wasn't... into all of the rules and the rituals and when people would say 'you're saved' and would leave and get wasted and do terrible things. That's what made me wonder what it was all about. I knew God existed but what he wanted? I wasn't sure... But over the years I found out who He really was. I was given a sense of... meaning and purpose in this world. It's not about rituals and rules. It's about loving others the way we should, and being selfless; humble and willing to lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you. It's about what is important in this world and it's precisely things that aren't of this world that are most important... the souls in it and what binds us all together."
As he speaks I watch him, his full lips and the sun that kisses his small amount of facial hair that is leaving a shadow on his chiseled jawline... his eyes that are holding so much deep meaning as he explains what's in his heart that I feel like he's never told anyone before. He's not really a closed off person necessarily (not like me) but yet there are things he doesn't open up to people about... maybe because no one else has seemed to care. I hope he knows that I do. I care about everything that comes from that golden heart of his.
"Do you not think the rules matter?" I ask curiously, at a quieter volume.
"No I do. I mean they shaped the laws of government. Do not steal, do not murder, those things. And some aren't lawbreaking but they are just common sense. Do not commit adultery, honor your father and mother, and so forth. I just meant I don't think people should look at faith like it's a set of rules. He doesn't want you to just sit in a pew, read your Bible, pray once a day and follow rules—He wants you to do something with your life. If you follow all of the rules but don't love then it's meaningless, same as if you love but don't follow the rules or do anything with that love it too is meaningless..."
I study him, taking in the information before my eyes fall on the dash in deep thought. "...It's not my kind of thing... I don't think He would forgive me after all I've done."
I can feel his gaze on me... or perhaps not but he is contemplating what I just said in a very serious way. "You're wrong," he says after a long pause.
I look at him but he doesn't return the look as he drives. "About which one?"
"...Both."
I look at him for a long moment, his words piercing me like they always do. It's so strange... as if he always knows exactly what to say to me... where does someone get intuition like that? From his faith? I don't really reply for a moment...
"You forget that I'm not perfect at all. I've made mistakes, done bad things... I'm a soldier. I've killed people—"
"Those people weren't innocent—"
"And neither were the ones who were killed because of you and your brother. They knew what they were doing. They openly risked their lives with the paths they chose. And you forget that you were under mind control the whole time. I wasn't. But the people that have died because of me and things that I've done isn't the same either. The battlefield... Hydra... everything had to be done... When you're a soldier you learn to accept that. It's not murder in a war. It's the same as killing someone who comes into your home and threatens you or your family with a gun... But I know how you feel because even if it's not wrong I still can never sleep at night. I think to myself that, good or bad,... I was the reason someone won't wake up to another day..."
"Steve..." I whisper, not wanting him to dare beat himself up about his years of service.
"I know. I know it's not a state of mind I should have and neither should you. That's the devil's way of taking us and making us feel terrible about things out of our control. You can't let that get to you... Because feeling that way is something I would never wish on someone like you... And you're wrong about faith not being something for you. I know you're trying to fill the emptiness inside of you."
"How do you figure that?" I ask in a melancholy way.
"You're much less closed off than you want people do believe. You've spent your life putting up a barrier and it scares you to tear that down. But you wouldn't be asking me all of this if you weren't curious..."
I study him. How could he know this? It makes it impossible to argue when he is right. I divert my eyes away and look down, not answering.
"It's okay..." he says with sensitivity, looking over at me. "I just want you to know you don't have to be closed off to me... I know you're afraid of getting hurt. But I won't hurt you... not ever."
I look at him finally, softness in my eyes as I am mesmerized by his kindness. My expression probably looks childlike to him; like that child I was when my parents were murdered...
I know he would stare at me if he didn't have to be driving. He glances at me with a sure look on his face before looking back at the road. "And I won't let anyone else hurt you either. If they try they'll have to go through me."
A smile slowly tugs at the corners of my mouth as I look at him. I pull my lips in and look at my knees. "Are you certain you want to promise that? It's quite the commitment," I almost say with amusement but my voice is still very gentle.
He can't help but smile softly as well, his eyes sparkling. "... As long as I'm around you'll always be taken care of... That's my promise..."
I look at him again with tenderness in my eyes and that warm feeling inside of me again. Instead of speaking I reach over and take his hand, hoping he gets my words through that gesture because "thank you" definitely is not enough. But I do decide to say, "You're a wonderful man, Steven Rogers. And you can take care of me for as long as you like..."
His cheeks get darker in the dim light and his eyes hold love even if he keeps them locked on the road. He hides the gladness he feels best he can but I can always see it. And it makes me smile again, as well, holding his large rough hand in my small delicate one.
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I don't remember falling asleep. But I remember someone speaking...
"Wanda," Steve's voice says quietly and sweetly to get my attention.
I wake up and pull my eyes open heavily, lifting my head from where it was leaning against the edge of the seat toward him. His hand is on my thigh, close to my knee, his thumb moving back and forth a couple times to wake me.
I look at him with tired eyes as he returns with a sensitive gaze and those concerned Cap eyebrows.
"Would you be more comfortable in the back?" he asks adorably.
My brows furrow a bit. "Are you not going to sleep?"
"We need to keep moving."
"No sleep at all?"
"Wanda..."
"Eight hours of fighting and barely any sleep the night before. And now you are trying to stay up another night? You know you're going to need some strength to be my body guard, Captain Rogers," I tease him about what he said before.
"You need rest more than I do. I think you're underestimating how much I can handle. I've gone longer without sleep and when I did get it I would be sleeping on a concrete slab in the cold."
"That was only when you didn't have another choice. And you weren't fighting aliens that could move at practically the speed of light and consumed entire cities in minutes."
"But that's—"
"Don't make me force you," I lift my brows.
"And tip this car over in the process? I'm not sure that would help get your point across."
I stop and roll my eyes. "Just pull over. I haven't seen any monsters for miles. We will be okay, especially if we are not making any noise."
"You're not going to give up, are you?"
"I will stab you before I surrender," I say plainly.
"Fair enough," he holds back a smirk. "But I really can't—"
I am holding my red mist as a threat.
He sighs.
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The back of this thing isn't that comfortable but I'm not too picky. There are only two seats on either side of the back and a large elevated floorboard space between that. Rogers is pretty tall so when he lies down perpendicularly with his head resting on one chair his feet reach the other. I sit with my head leaning against the other one but my neck hurts badly because it's propped against the hard edge. Steve seems fine because he's used to this (well he was used to this back in nineteen ninety-five). I haven't slept in a comfortable bed since I was ten. But I don't really sleep that much anymore anyway. The only time I could was when I was in my brother's embrace. But now we have been separated and I just realized that's the first time it's happened since the few times we were experimented on separately.
I am already beginning to miss my other half.
"You okay?" Steve asks in a serious but quiet way as he observes how little I move and probably how sullen I look.
"I hope he'll be alright..." I stare at the floor.
His eyes are on mine but I don't look back. "...He will."
"How do you know?" I ask in not an angry way but an honest way, returning his gaze.
He thinks for a moment as his eyes dance in mine and then he looks away in contemplation... Then he looks up, seeing how worried I am and restless. With sympathy in his eyes he gets up and sits beside me, taking my hands in his as I wonder what he's up to. But he... he prays with me right there, speaking out loud so I can hear his words and be with him in them. I have never done anything like this before so it's odd for me but in a way I know it means more than I could ever understand. And when he speaks I feel a sense of calmness in my being that I have never felt before. He asks for protection over Pietro and then over us all as we endure such horrifically dark times, humanity only limping on...
But I feel better now, different. I'm not sure what that feeling was or how to describe it but I never want it to leave...
He sits back where he was. "I don't do that as often as I should..." he says as he situates himself again.
I look at him with sensitivity in my eyes. "Thank you, Steve," I say sincerely at him always wanting to help me. His compassion and selflessness is incredibly inspiring to say the least... I want to be like him...
"Maybe that will help you sleep."
"That would be a miracle," I joke, trying to get comfortable where I am but having trouble. I sigh when I give up...
He just looks at me, slight humor and affection in his eyes as he holds back a smile and gestures with his head for me to come over to him.
I smile bashfully and get up, sitting down beside him and resting my head on his chest to use him for a pillow.
He puts his arm over me as I listen to his soft breathing. This is much more comfortable. I was almost chilly before but lying against him warms me up because of his naturally very heated body. It's like he was made for winter weather. My hand rests on his stomach and his wraps around my shoulder. I am more comfortable than I have been in a long time. But not necessarily physically. His presence gives off such a calming vibe, as if I always feel completely protected around him; that as long as he's here I am okay. I have only felt that way about one other person (my brother) but this is... different. This feeling of being so safe and secure is something that I never want to say goodbye to.
Even in these dark times and this horrible circumstance... I am happy and calm; content as I lie on his chest inside his embrace. I'm not sure if he feels the same way about this but I hope he does...
"I hope I didn't trade in my discomfort for yours," I tell him.
He almost chuckles. "Actually no... not at all... But even if you did it's okay. I'm only glad you're comfortable and I doubt I'll sleep anyway..." he says quietly.
I don't like that last part and it pricks at my heart. "But you would tell me if you were uncomfortable...?"
I can tell he's smiling warmly, his eyes on me. "You know I'm always honest, hon... But this is nice... I've never had the feeling of... being needed by a woman and I'm starting to think having one in my arms is a lullaby itself." But that's when his mind drifts...
My own thoughts follow his as I remember him telling me about something...
"...Who is she? The woman you loved?" My fingers gently play with the sections of fabric on his suit.
He doesn't reply for a moment, his heart heavy... and now I regret asking him because of the painful memories it brings back. But I want to know...
"...Her name was Peggy Carter. When I was sent to boot camp she was an agent of the SSR there to help Doctor Erskine choose the candidates for Project Rebirth... the project of creating super soldiers to fight the Germans and Hydra. I talked to her only a few times before I was chosen for the first. I spent the first year as only a symbol for the war... But the next year I spent helping them fight and destroy Hydra... I didn't get to see Agent Carter that often but when I did we... felt drawn to each other in a way that I can't describe. It was the first time I felt that way and I didn't know how to read it... but it was strong... And when we were apart I still thought about her... all the time..."
My heart is saddened at this story in a way I didn't think it could be. But his pain leaks onto me and may even stab me harder than him. "Did you want to marry her?"
There is a pause as the silence takes him heavily. "...Yeah... I did."
I shut my eyes as the pain swells inside me from his voice. That tone... was so full of sorrow I wonder how such a thing could ever happen to someone as good as him. I suppose that's just the way of the world.
"What got to me was not only that I couldn't be with her but that... I had said goodbye to a whole future... a life beyond the front lines... a wife and kids... I looked to that during my years of service as a reward... the thing that came after we were finally done. After I lost Bucky it was my only comfort... And here I am again..."
That hurts me even more and I think about that; the life he wanted. I can't imagine anything other than what I have lived my whole life. I never even considered a future at all after my life was taken from me at age ten, at least not one that was in any way happy or normal. And for him... to be looking at that for a whole year and instead having it end so tragically... I can't imagine how that must hurt.
He sniffs once and swallows away his pain. "...I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself now... I got a second chance at life and there are plenty others out there who didn't. Even if we weren't together... she went on to live her life to the fullest and was happy... I should be glad for that... and I am. I have hope for my future and glad she had the life she deserved in the end."
My brows furrow a bit and I lift my head, his fingers that were playing with my hair falling to my shoulder again as I look into his deep and sad blue eyes, a hint of redness in them that suggests he had let a tear slip out a second ago. I am... astonished and mesmerized by him. How can he look at all that bad and still see good? Even my always positive brother can't do that. He would have been destroyed if what happened to Steve happened to him. I have never seen anyone be able to handle this kind of pain and turn it around before.
He wants to hint at an almost smile in his eyes as he squints a little. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
I am so lost in him I almost forget to reply. I shake my head slightly. "Even after all that..." I manage to whisper.
His brows tense and his eyes fall down a bit. "It's not about how you fell... It's about what you do to pick yourself up."
My eyes stay inside his even if he doesn't return my gaze yet.
"...I don't know if there's such a thing as a soul mate... I know Peggy and I weren't meant to be together since everything that happened but I don't regret knowing her... I think there are a lot of people you could end up with depending on your path... I do know that everything happens for a reason... If I'm here and not there in the past... then I must have a purpose here instead. God must have something even better planned for me here than the life I thought I wanted. I'm here for a reason... Like you are..." He looks up at me, his soft eyes cradling me with love. "You and I are here to save lives, Wanda... maybe even each other's."
I understand his words. They make me strong. If he can come back from all he endured then so can I. I really do believe that now. We are going to change the world.
I reach up and touch his cheek gently with my right hand, my crimson eyes searching his blue ones. I want to give him the future he wanted so badly. He deserves it... after all he's done for others. He deserves to be happy. Looking into his eyes now... suddenly that's all I want.
"We will get through this... and you will be happy. If I am given a say, I will make sure of it..." I promise.
His eyes hint at a warm smile to me, full of affection. He lifts his right hand that had been on my shoulder and strokes my cheekbone. "And maybe I was sent here to protect you... I don't know... But I will give everything to make sure after all of this you are safe... No matter what."
I lean into his gentle touch, being so taken aback by his words all the time that I never know what to say to them. I just smile and let him place his lips at my forehead before I return to resting on his chest, curling up against him as close as I can. His arm holds me there gently but firmly, not letting me slip from his embrace. I let myself shut my eyes and I send him gradually to sleep with my mind as I drift off myself.
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ESTHER:
Luckily this airship has autopilot so I set our course for London and allowed myself and Loki to rest and try to sleep when night hits. We travel across the Atlantic and let the sound of the wind put us to sleep. After we've had enough of that however we sit contemplating what our plan really is...
My eyes find their way up to look at the different controls and panels around us. Technology is so advanced... this entire situation is so advanced.
I look over at my raven haired companion, taking in the worry lines that mar his face as the dim lighting casts dark shadows over his face. He looks... worn. We both do. Such is the unknown. I release a sigh, adjusting my position in the chair as I look out the window into the clouds that surround us.
"What should we do when we land?" I ask uncertainly, my gaze weary as I glance at him.
He looks over at me with his left brow slightly raised, almost as if he was pulled from deep thought. "Don't suppose you have anything more powerful than a pocket bomb, do you?" he asks, referring to that grenade I threw earlier.
I give him a look, then my eyes drift down to the bag resting near my feet before sliding back up to meet his questioning gaze. My eyes stay on his as I reach down to unzip the backpack, my hand disappearing inside the bag only to reappear holding a chain of grenades.
He glances down at the explosives and his brow lifts higher. Then he raises them both and looks at me. "You stole that, didn't you?"
"I just borrowed it... without planning on returning it," I state as I set them back down in the bag, zipping it back up before I let my hands flop down in my lap, before continuing with, "Besides, we need it more than they do."
"Well it looks like you've thought of everything except how to get those things into the very center of that brain alive. If it can't defend itself there will be plenty of other mimics and no doubt alphas around it."
"Well then you've thought of everything," I sass back. "What about thinking of a way to help me strategize?"
He snickers. "Because we are so good with strategy..."
"We made it this far," I lift a brow.
"Yes, darling. And we died nearly seven hundred times to get here."
"Alright well if we can avoid killing an alpha then we won't have to worry about running out of lives."
"And do this all over again...?" he looks at me doubtfully.
I flatten my lips and breathe through my nose, blinking a couple times before looking ahead. "Let's just try not to die."
"Agreed."