"Do you want to work at SHIELD?"
-
The room is now quiet, but the small beeps and clicks of medical equipment set the silence to a beat.
His question, one so unexpected, catches me off guard. Did I heard him right? A job opportunity— at SHIELD headquarters?
I don't try to resist the look of shock on my face, and Steve laughs a little when he sees it.
"Now, I don't exactly know what you'd be doing there— probably an assistant job— and I don't know what your plans are, but I just wanted to put it out there." He frowns. "I don't want to overwhelm you though. I know you've been through a lot and haven't even fully recovered, but I just thought having a job there would help you get back on track, that's all." He stands up from where he kneels and runs a hand nervously through his hair.
Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this is the opportunity I needed. Maybe this is the outstretched hand that will lift me back on my feet.
"Thanks. I'll definitely think about it." His blue eyes sparkle at my response.
"I gotta go now, unfortunately. Get well soon, Allissa. Text me if you need anything." Steve turns to leave, but hesitates. When he faces me again, the change in his facial expression is startling.
His eyebrows furrow together angrily and his lip is curled in disgust. "Whatever you do— don't go back to Loki." He steps closer to me, his voice lowered to a whisper. My heart pounds. "He's a monster, Allissa. A murderer. He never loved you. He was only going to kill you."
Steve takes a deep breath. "I think you need to get yourself checked out— mentally. No one in their right mind would feel for someone like that." His words sound caring, but they're laced with something else.
And then, in one swift motion, he leaves, the door shutting tightly behind him. After those last remarks, his absence becomes unsettling.
I sit in the hospital bed, alone and stunned. I haven't known Steve for long, but before just now, he seemed so genuine. But his last words sent chills down my arms and legs and leave me feeling scared. Those were anything but kind, caring words. They were fueled with poison and were heavy with cruel intentions. I feel like I've been stabbed again.
I take a deep breath.
He was just looking out for me, right?
That question echos over and over in my head, like I'm trying to convince myself. But each time it repeats, I feel a little worse inside. Like something is slowly eating me away.
-
2 months later, New York
In the bathroom of my new apartment, I pull my arms through the sleeves of a grey turtleneck and slip it over my head. Smoothing it down over my chest, I look up at myself in the mirror.
It's harder to do so now. This reflection hardly seems recognizable anymore. I can't bear to look into my own tired eyes for reasons I'm not even sure of. I just don't feel like myself. It feels uncomfortable. Everything feels off.
My long, untamed hair falls down my shoulders in loose curls. After a couple failed attempts at a bun, I shrug off the efforts and leave it as it is.
The drive to the city should fill me with excitement, but it just feels tedious. I've only been in the heart of New York a couple times after moving here, but it already feels worn.
There's that feeling again. The numbness that flows through my veins and turns off all my cells. It crept inside of me first in the hospital, and has made it's home inside me ever since. I don't feel sad. Just monotonous.
I almost laugh at the thought, in a sick way. How ridiculous it sounds. My hand reaches for the knob on the radio, turning up whatever's on, just to drown myself out.
The monday morning traffic isn't too bad, surprisingly. Rain drizzles half-heartedly from the dark grey mess in the sky. The city wears it's workweek dread on its sleeve. Everyone moves slowly.
I pull up to the gates of SHIELD and quickly scramble to grab my ID from my purse. I pull out the small card and glance at it for a moment before handing it off to the security guard towering outside my window. He scans it, nods, hands it back. The gates open and I drive in. My stomach ties itself in knots as I park and grab my things, uneasy at the fact that today is my first day at my new job.
To be honest, I'm not really even sure why I'm here. Fetching coffee for executives and hurriedly scratching notes during a stressful meeting isn't exactly what I would call my passion. But I guess it's something to do for now. Until— I don't know.
I walk up to the main building, and another guard opens a door for me. I smile a thanks, head inside, and approach the front desk. The receptionist looks up from her computer.
"Hello and welcome to SHIELD Headquarters. What can I help you with?" Her blonde hair is pulled so tightly into a bun that her skin looks stretched, with not a single hair out of place. A tinge of annoyance flashes across her face before she puts on the smile she's required to wear nine-to-five.
"Uhm, hi. I'm Allissa King, I'm here for—"
She puts a finger up to stop me and types something in her computer. "You're the new assistant?" She raises an eyebrow. "Rogers is waiting for you in his office on the 17th floor. Take an elevator up. He's in room 1712."
I nod and chew my lip, feeling irritated by her interruption. But I guess she knows what she's doing.
I turn and walk away, searching for the elevator. My heels click on the floor as I take a moment to observe the building.
The main room I stand in is floored with shiny black tiles, and the walls are a stinging white. One almost painful to look at.
Officers and agents in slick, black, jumpsuit-style uniforms mill around the room, and a hundred different dialogues blur together. Some wear guns at their waist, and they all wear heavy black combat boots.
The atmosphere here is militant and strict. I'm having second thoughts-- this is definitely not a typical day job. This is definitely not my style. But as my legs continue to guide me into the elevator, I take a deep breath and promise myself I'll at least give it a try.
You don't want to make Steve mad.
The doors shut. I lean against the wall and brace myself for the beginning of the rest of my life.
-
"Hold the door!"
A hand reaches out from inside and grabs the door. I dart inside and laugh a little. "Thanks! I was gonna be late--" I trail off as I look up at the owner of the hand, and I am met with an eerily familiar face. Coffee-colored hair and rich, dark eyes, and polite smile that melts into a small frown. I know her! But who is she?
"Oh-- Natasha right?" She asks, and her smile returns once she figures out who I am.
I nod, and finally it clicks. "Allissa! How are you?" My heart aches for her as I remember the state I saw her in last time, almost three months ago, during the rescue mission. Trapped, broken, afraid.
"I'm okay-- putting my life back together has been a lot of work, but I'm optimistic about where I'm headed." Her words don't match her face in the slightest. Her eyes flit around the room and I can tell she's uncomfortable. She tugs at the hem of her turtleneck and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, back and forth. She's lying. But not with bad intentions.
As a SHIELD agent, it's important to know how to read someone, especially if you're going undercover or interrogating a criminal. You've got to know how to dig past the words and the facial expressions and sink your teeth into the heart of the truth. You've got to know how to play the game ten times better than anyone else in the room, and then beat them at it. I'm good at it, and I'm proud of how useful of a tool it has become. But sometimes I see things I wished I hadn't. Sometimes ignorance is more addictive than the worst drug.
She's still broken. Probably even more so since the last time I saw her. Her movements are lifeless. The light behind her eyes is dead. Rotting. It breaks my heart. I don't even know her that well, but in this moment, having felt things she is feeling right now, she feels like a sister.
"I'm happy to hear you're doing better." I force a smile and touch her shoulder lightly. I clear my throat. "So you're working here now? When did that happen?"
"I am. Steve visited the hospital to check on me, and he offered me an assistant position. It's only temporary, until I figure out what I'm going to do after this."
Steve offered her a job? That's unlike him. He's been acting so weird lately, I hope this has nothing to do with Allissa.
"Congrats!" The elevator dings and halts. "I'm happy for you."
Her smile is hollow. "Thanks. This is my stop, I better go. See you around." And with that, she's gone. The elevator doors are closed again and I am standing by myself, lost in thought.
I need to keep an eye on her. This could be very bad.
-
WOW!! The first update in 102829192 years😫 im gonna be honest, half of this sat in my drafts for months, and the only reason i worked on it today is because i was procrastinating ksjskskhj
Anyways, how are you guys??!! Im so sorry for my absence, but i really needed a break. I dont know how frequently i'll be updating in the future, as i am constantly busy with school and personal stuff. Please be patient!!
Thanks for 23k reads, 800+ votes, and for sticking around! Luv u guys<333