двадцать один

74 3 9
                                    

Nomad

I'm back in London but not for any reason I could have dreamt. My sister is dead, and I'm carrying her coffin through a cathedral with Steve to the side of me. Like my own, his eyes are red.

I didn't expect so many people to be her . Peggy clearly is- was, an extremely popular person. My eyes focus on the candle next to Peggy's photograph at the front of the room so I don't have to look at Steve. If I do, I think I'll start crying again.

After leaving my sister at the front of the cavernous room, Steve and I take our seats in the first row. I've got Sam on my other side; he lets me rest my head on his shoulder. Maybe he doesn't care about getting his suit wet- I'm wearing an old one of his anyway. I don't own one. I spent the flight here altering the sleeves.

Sam was surprised I could sew.

"Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy," the woman at the front of the room starts her- what is it called? A eulogy? Going with eulogy.

I feel Steve gasp beside me. "I didn't have a kid, did I?" I murmur to him.

Steve shakes his head, taking my hand. He squeezes it. "Not that I know of."

This person- I believe the priest called her Sharon earlier- must be my brother's child's child. Is that how great-nieces work? Bloody hell, I'm out of date with the world.

"She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related," she glances at Steve. Do they know each other, or does she just think he's cute? "I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say 'No, you move.'"

I've decided I really like this girl. She reminds me of myself, so she probably reminds me of my sister.

*

"I miss her," I say to Sam, clutching his hand like it's keeping me together. We're sitting in a London hotel lobby, letting Steve have his time with Sharon Carter. The two of us spoke earlier but all it really did was make us both upset so we decided to take a rain check.

Sam tugs on my plait- he's been doing that a lot recently. "Of course you do. She's your sister."

"I didn't know her for most of her life. I've just got her back and now she's gone again and- it's not fair, Sam! Life isn't fucking fair."

He stays silent. "When I was in the army, I had this friend. Riley. A wingman, like me," Sam eventually states. I'm not sure if he's trying to take my mind off Peggy or whether he's trying to tell me something, so I listen. "A night mission in Afghanistan. Barely entered hostile airspace and he got shot down by an RPG."

"I'm sorry."

Sam shrugs it off. "Life isn't fair. Good people die for no good reason. You've got regret, you've guilt... what matters is how you use it. You're going to carry it with you for the rest of your life, whether that's in an oversized suitcase or a purse-" he stops mid-sentence as his phone makes a noise from his pocket. Apologising, he checks it. "Get up. We need to get Steve."

"What's going on?" I say, already on my feet.

"There's been a bombing in Vienna."

Crap. "What- how?" I'm following him up the stairs now, my feet working faster than my head.

Finding DeathWhere stories live. Discover now