Y/N and Bucky's time in Wakanda was needed and helpful after the previous months of chaos.
After three months away, they decide it's time to return to the Compound and get back to normal. Unfortunately for the Avengers, 'normal' means danger; someth...
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I glance out the window, mind unfocused from the tv that plays some movie I've never seen.
The calm of today feels unsettling. Maybe because it's so different from the speed and intensity of the last week, but everything feels too still. And I feel like I should be doing something.
What, I don't know. It's been months since I was idle like this; not focus on the next step of the plan. Not knowing the next step of the plan... That's probably why I'm restless. I don't know what's going to happen.
Not to me, or Lizzie, or Austen, and especially not to Atticus.
It hurt watching him having to be sedated yesterday... how volatile he was.
The agent in charge of watching us wouldn't let us visit him... he said it wasn't something we should see right now... I think he was being kind; he wasn't acting like he was trying to boss us around or keep us locked away, but that didn't stop me wanting to tell him to bite me.
Although, even if I convinced him, we probably wouldn't be able to get past Director Fury. He said we needed to give it a few days, that hopefully some time would let Atticus cool off.
I really don't know if that will be enough though. He's locked away again, the thing he fought so hard to avoid... He knew we wouldn't be able to run forever, and he was prepared to die rather than be taken again.
'We can't be free. We might as well use the time we have left to stop the people who hurt us.'
I run a hand down my face, guilt gnawing at my stomach.
He needed to be stopped.
But I'm hurting him.
"Not liking the movie?" Austen asks from beside me.
I pull my hand away and turn my head a little, eyes glancing at the tv where the characters are standing round a table, pointing at maps and schematics.
I shrug. "Can't focus on it."
Austen nods, pulling his hand from the back of the couch to rub his chin. "I wish we could talk to him."
"I doubt he would listen," Lizzie says. "As much as I hate to admit it, Director Fury is right; we need to give him time."
Austen lets out a quiet sigh. "I don't know if time is going to help him. He's... he's not there anymore. Something changed inside him, and we didn't see until it was too late."
The guilt grows and I shift, uncomfortable on the stiff, cold leather couch. "He'sstill there," I whisper, thinking of his hand in my hair. When he ruffled it, so gentle compared to his actions just minutes later. "He's not completely gone. But something is wrong. And we need to figure it out."
"The only way we can figure it out is if he talks to us, and that doesn't seem likely any time soon," Lizzie mumbles.
"Then we wait. But we make sure he knows we're there for him," Austen says gently. "We stick together. He fought for that. That's the one thing he always wanted—that we all wanted."
