Cherry || b.barnes

44 || Falling Into Place

I can't believe it. I can't believe he sneaked into S.H.I.E.L.D. and got me her file. This is the only reason and the only way he could possibly have gotten this, because I doubt he told anyone about what I found out. What he knows, too. And have them get it for me. There's no way he just forgot it there.

Thousands of possibilities race through my mind, making me spin like I'm on a mental roller coaster as I near the grey folder. I've been not only chasing Steven Rogers my whole life, although this was pretty much the major thing that kept me going. I've also been chasing the purpose of my mother's death with him. Why she died, why Hydra had her killed. There must've been a reason for them to kill her. I used to believe it was because they found out about her betrayal just as Steven told and Wanda showed me; that they had gotten her false play, that they recognized her behavior as an act and had her killed therefore. Even before I ever exchanged a single word with an Avenger, something like seemed the most reasonable thing. She couldn't have been a bad person, could she?

But the only thing false here seems to be my mother herself. I try to ignore the acid crawling up my throat as I form this thought into words, try hard to stay irrational and swallow down the threatening of tears. I had it black on white that my assumed mother, Dr. Romero, isn't my mother. That I'm not even naturally but biologically created. That I'm indeed related to Steven Rogers, and to the person that still is a mystery, their secrets waiting for me on the table in the living room a few meters ahead.

For the first time in a while, I stop myself from running anywhere, there. I'm still feeling kicked by James, deserved and totally to his right must I add, and I don't know if I can take anymore right now. Although there are answers in there, answers to old questions and new ones, questions that developed during the recent weeks, I hesitate. Can I really take this onto me, now? Shouldn't I first of all sort the things out that are already going downwards in my life?

Maybe I should try to find a solution for one parent at a time. Maybe that's better than reading about a woman I never met, a woman who certainly didn't want or rather won't want me. I wonder if this Miss LeBeau knows of my existence, knows that there's someone walking this earth that is her daughter at all. I wonder even more if she knows who the father is, or if this is a rewind of Holy Maria. Name would be almost fitting.

But before I got to decide whether or not I'll do it, I hear the phone ringing through the small hut, ricochetting from the walls. The thunder and lightning haven't ceased outside, a storm growing more turbulent by second, and I can only hope that James has a car nearby.

There's no doubt that the call is for me. No one else is here, and I'm uncertain if they even know about Barnes paying me a visit and coming back. Since there's not really anything else for me to do, I stroll over, barefoot and only wearing that black oversized shirt of mine and underwear, taking the call. 

»Sia« comes immediately, and Steven's deep voice rings through the line. He doesn't perform his relief in privacy, puffing out air in taken-off concern. »How are you?«

Blinking, a little overwhelmed, I take a second to respond. I'm not used to people asking me how I am, not in general and not after I got hurt in a fight. Especially not people that I treated so poorly, and probably will do for a while because I can't shake it. I need to remind myself that Steven isn't responsible for anything, as it seems, and that I can't blame him for existence, although I gladly would. The proof could lay right there on the table in front of the sofa. »To say I'm good was a lie, but better than I deserve. How's Peter?«

I wanted to ask James that, too, but the matters we discussed, or rather, the matters I took a monologue about were more important. James is more important to me than anything, and this insight becomes clearer by second with a catapult-like rush forwards when I was at my worst and wished he was with me. When I killed Peter Parker. »He's, uh, sleeping currently, I think. Tony told his aunt that there was some sort of seminar for his internship that he obviously got back into, and that he'd be gone for a week. Wanda's there to keep him company. And Vision is there to have an eye on both of them.«