The Forsaken Truth (Marvel's Avengers)

The Sceptre

"You know, since Thor is technically a God... so like, when you talk to him, would it mean that you're praying?"

"..... When I asked you what was on your mind, I was expecting something more... normal."

"My bad." I shrugged, swiping the brush across the canvas.

Steve chuckled, the sound causing me to smile as well. 

It'd been another few weeks since the 'confrontation', after which I decided to spend more time with the others to avoid any more suspicion. I shoved away my prospective future to the far corner of my brain, where all the other problems were locked away. I would deal with it when the time came. That was the only option I had anyway.

Currently, I sat with the captain engaged in, what I'd like to name, an artistic endeavour. He drew while I painted. Not that I was a good painter of any kind, I just knew how to blend water colours into a plain ombre sort of painting. I wasn't sure what it was called. 

It was a nice, calming activity that we'd adopted after I found him drawing on the terrace one day. Since the terrace was usually my go-to spot on boring days, I had random stuff stashed away that included paints and such. Upon Steve's open invitation, I joined him in a silent evening of art. Afterwards, it sort of became a thing for us.

Unlike me, Steve was a great artist. His drawings, more often than not, had a deep meaning hidden in them, some of which, I seemed to be too naive to figure out. I always wondered why he didn't just make a career out of his talent instead of drafting in a war that ultimately led him to be displaced into a whole different century. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have that faraway look in his eyes now, like he was seeing an era long gone. 

I wondered if he regretted making that choice.

"Hey Cap?" 

We simultaneously looked up, fixating on the door where Clint stood. He offered me a brief nod of acknowledgement before addressing him.

"We've got a hit."

Steve turned to look at me apologetically but I waved him away. 

"I can't believe it's taking you guys so long just to find a stick."

"Yeah well, the stick isn't the one playing hide and seek." Clint said. 

"Either way, it's getting tiresome." Steve sighed before uttering farewell and leaving.

As he did, I heard footsteps nearing me and felt the familiar presence now looming over my seat.

"Don't you get bored all alone?" Clint questioned, leaning to look at the painting.

I shrugged. "I know how to keep myself entertained."

"How long has it been since you went out?"

Dragging the brush once more, I thought about the question. 

Agent Hill had told me sometime ago that the scientists didn't need me to come over anymore, assuring me that the device would be completed in a few days and since then, I never really left the tower.

"A while, I guess." I said finally. "Why? Want me to come along and offer my words of wisdom?"

I meant it in a joking way, but the archer's reaction was not what I expected.

"That's not a bad idea actually. You can stay in the quinjet."

I stared at him and he stared back, not an ounce of humor on his face.

"You... want my wisdom?" 

"No, you have none."

"Wow thanks."