Cherry || b.barnes

30 || Vow

James doesn't cross my path the whole day. Not when I roam about on their level, making sure Wanda has passed out and lock her in her room or rather lock others out, not when I place the secret message on Banner's bed, and neither when I walk around in town, through the park nearby the Tower we first met in. Just like I ordered, he has become a ghost again, not to be seen, not to be heard.

Having taken off the poppy necklace, I placed it beneath his door, letting it slide through the gap between the wood and the floor. I didn't want to go into his room without his permission, without his presence, and wearing the necklace any further felt wrong.

I want to wear it because he gave it to me. Not to an illusion. And I'm sure it lost its meaning, its purpose, along with him losing his trust into me, into love, into humanity.

I really shouldn't think about him any longer. What was between us, if there could have been something had he known who I am, is nothing but a faint whisper of my memories. I dug our grave this morning, buried what was in between us six feet under. I knew it would happen. I knew I would set an end to this sooner or later. Why did I let it become something so serious in the first place?

Then again, how could I not? This damn deep-throaty chuckle. These chocolate brown curls. These ocean eyes and these lips, rosy and tasting of strawberries. His humor, his manners, his intelligence and the fact that I never ever could have imagined talking to somebody as well and thoroughly as with him. He just wrapped me around his finger effortlessly, and I didn't even fight it happening. 

Now it's all over. And I have to close the chapter.
I have to stop thinking about him. About what he's doing, where he's at, whether he's safe or needs help. Whether he could make it thirty hours awake and sleep eight after. This rule is serving as a precaution; I guess his sleep somehow locks the Winter Soldier away, leading to him probably coming back here as the first thing that will cross his real, controlling mind. So, he needs to stay awake long enough that he doesn't have to look upon the corpse of his best friend. 

Shaking my head, I walk along the canalization of New York City once more, meeting up with Rider and a couple other officers that lead today's mission according to my plan. My mind is clouded enough, the stinky mist down here isn't even processed as I turn around the corner, perfectly remembering the path through the labyrinth. I already put on the black suit S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me, already armored with two guns and two knifes, one of each dangling on one side on my hip. It's dark down here, dark enough that images of last night flare up in my mind colorfully, and I constantly have to fight them throughout the entire way.

Eventually, I would get to the meeting point. Four people are already waiting, within them Rider himself and three tall, broad men with hats as black as their suits. All of them are stuffed with weapons, and as I enter the nasty room situation, all of them grow quiet at once. 

»You're late.« the man most far from the small group states as a reproachful greeting, a strictness to his tone that makes me believe he doesn't treat his recruits all too well. He's in the mids of forty, if I had to guess, and not a single hair is pooling out beneath the cap, in whose middle there is knitted the red skull with eight tentacles. 

»Some of us have to prepare so the evening proceeds smoothly.« I respond without reducing the speed of my pace, heavy stamps ricocheting from the walls around us. 
I'm in no mood for arguments right now, or for anything that is questioning my loyalty to my plan. 

Rider clears his throat, obviously less courageous than me when it comes to the man. He has to be in a high position. But then again, Rider is a frightened rabbit, nothing more than an order-following headcheese in his tight, black suit that has difficulty hiding his nervosity staining his face crawling up from his clothed neck. »I believe you're here to give us the last piece of the plans.«