EVERMORE ─ marvel

VIII. Write Your Own Story

Chapter Eight
Josephine

After I talked to Ana I came straight home and went to bed. I told Baba and Daniel that I had a headache and wanted to lie down. They knew I was just making an excuse, but they didn't push me to talk. I laid in my bed for hours tossing and turning, unable to quiet my mind enough to sleep. It's around three in the morning when my eyes finally shut, and probably around four when I drift off. For a while I'm in a dreamless sleep, but then I suddenly find myself in a brightly lit bookstore. Not just any bookstore, it's the one here in Wakanda, the one I went to yesterday with Daniel. It looks different though. The lighting is all natural, but it's unnaturally bright. The entire room has a fuzzy look to it, a haze. The light flooding in from the windows is a soft yellow, and even though this is clearly a dream, I can feel the warmth from the sun's glow as I stand in one of the isles.

This dream feels different than my usual ones. Most of them are nightmares now. It's honestly weird to be having such a simple dream in a relaxing place. I miss dreams like this, dreams where I don't to have to relive any of the trauma the last couple years have brought me, dreams where everything is peaceful and nothing bad happens. For a couple moments I shut my eyes and savor this feeling, this peace, worried that any second a Kree soldier or Alaric Hale will jump out and torture me like most nights.

"Hey, kiddo." A familiar voice says from behind me.

Very slowly, I turn around, feeling like my lungs have become vacuum sealed. It can't be. There's no way. But it is. The figure standing behind me, the owner of the voice...it's Uncle John. He looks exactly the same, like no time has passed at all. He's wearing dark jeans, some combat boots, a plain white t-shirt, his scruff is just becoming a beard, his shaggy blonde hair is pulled back in a bun, just like the ones Liam wears. He grins at me, and it's filled with his usual charm and playfulness. The sight of it breaks me. I burst into tears and run towards him. He opens his arms up and bends down to catch me in his embrace, picking me up off the ground and crushing me in a large hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold onto him just as tightly, unable to stop my tears.

"I've missed you so much." I whisper against his shoulder.

He squeezes me tighter. "I've missed you too, kiddo."

After a while he finally sets me down, his expression turning from joyful to bittersweet. He brushes his fingers across my cheeks to wipe my tears away, but his efforts are completely undone when I begin saying: "I'm so sorry, Uncle John. It was all my fault—"

"Stop," He urges me. "Stop blaming yourself, Jo. My death was not your fault. It was no ones fault but the Savage's."

I shake my head, my bottom lip wobbling as I continue: "I could have tried harder, I should have been stronger. You would still be here if it weren't for my failure. You've missed so much. Zy has become king, he and Livy are about to get married, Steve is about to become an Avenger. Bast, you never got to meet Liam. You never got to see Naomi, Johnathon, and Matthew lead the rebellion you helped inspire. We had a war with the Kree. Aunt Soroya and Uncle Sam lead the Avengers now, and-and they miss you so much. We all do."

Uncle John seems unfazed by all this information, and something tells me he already knew all of it. "I came here because I've seen what you've been going through lately, the struggle you've been putting yourself through."

I wipe my nose with my sleeve, asking in a scratchy tone: "You've been watching me?"

Uncle John smiles softly. "I watch over all of you, have since I died, which again, wasn't your fault. I don't blame you for it and neither should you. You are so young, Jo, you have so much ahead of you, an entire future that's yours for the taking. Don't throw it away because of your guilt over my death."