We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there? That's... that's the end game.
"The fight is done, we lost. I am not who I used to be."
Indiana Margaret Stark, once an Avenger, one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes...
I cry until the light dies. I scream until all sound fades. I howl into my pillow. Give them back! But the earth stays silent. Soon I am silent too. I fall back into the mattress. My eyes closed.
I don't want to wake... but I do.
I was alone, something I was never meant to be. The Space Stone gave me a connection to that other place and the people in. I could feel the others when I wanted to – the ebb and flow of them in the universe around me.
Until, of course, I couldn't.
Now I preferred the solitude. If I was alone, I didn't need to make choices that would affect anyone other than myself. Fix the damn door or not, eat or not, sleep or not – dream or not.
I tried to dream as little as possible, but I don't really have a say in that matter.
I reached for the other side of the bed, but I was cold. My fingers reached out, seeking Steve's warmth but only finding the rough cotton cover of that mattress.
He's gone.
They are all gone.
I was heart hurt. Alone. In some other place. I should be scared. But I wasn't. The Avengers are gone. Nothing else matters. Memories stabbed at my brain. Us in the tower. The party. The hammer. Ultron. Steve said something to me. Just one world. Right before he died.
I couldn't hear it then. I can now.
Live.
I fell back on the bed, my heart hollow. Empty. My body was heavy. Weak. Maybe I would fade away... yet I don't.
Live.
My throat tightened. Tears ran. The last thing he did was save me. He asked for one thing.
Live.
I don't want to. But I got to.
Live.
"Wallace!" The voice was loud and cheerful, wrenching me from my memories. "Jane Wallace, you'll be late for work."
Living in Crime Alley (great name I know) had its benefits. The apartments were small and not highly organized, making it easy to live under an assumed name. I do have documents I forged though, so I don't attract unwanted attention.
What I should have accounted for was the attention of the neighbours, the Georgiyevna's, they lived next door. They took me under their wing – as much as they could with me keeping my distance. Can you blame me? – the last neighbour I had turn out to be a HYDRA agent. And I was still grieving, in my own way, and it helped if I told myself I didn't want knew ties, new friends.
I dragged myself out of bed and across my tiny apartment. It wasn't fancy enough to have rooms, but I had made some makeshift dividers. One of the things growing up on the run prepared a person for was austerity.
It's littered with objects from my universe. Cap's shield, Tony's suit, Thor's hammer, Clint's bow and arrow, Nat's Widow Bite bracelets, Bruce's research on gamma radiation. And boxes which I haven't checked yet. Things that remined me of home.
At Eternity I wished for a chance to start over, but the monkeys paw gives as much as it takes, and I woke up in Gotham City. It's only been a month and it's still hard to comprehend I'm in an entirely other universe.
"Jane Wallace, are you still alive in there?" Yelena asked.
Yelena was a spitfire, never took shit from anyone, she spoke in a mild Russian accent. Actually, she sounded a bit scary, especially when she was on the phone or when her mum came for a visit. When I first met her, I reckoned she had a touch of the Natasha's about her.
I was not mistaken. She felt deeply for the people she cared about, always doing her best for everyone, but also having to make hard decisions.
She also made a mean fudge. Told me I could have the recipe 'over my dead body'.
"Aye, Yelena," I said opening the door.
I got dressed and we walked to work together. I could see sunshine on the glass and every time the doors slide open I could a whiff of life outside – Gotham in summer. Just perfect. Underneath that baked summer sent of hot garbage, wet pennies, and pee you can kinda smell some fresh air.
Already sweating.
Everything's perfect.
"Hey, did you hear Batman solved the Moroni Case last night?"
"Ah dinnae care, really."
"You are strange woman, Jane Wallace."
It was the standard chat we had each morning. She did most the talking, I just smiled and waved. Of course, I knew a lot more than I let on. Like that fact Bruce Wayne is the Batman. And Dick Grayson is Nightwing.
I had this plan, that could very well get me compromised, but if I ever met Bruce, I was gonna troll the shit outta him. Not my fault that Batman's ridiculously easy to mock.
I had this theory, kinda like the 5 Stages of Grief, but for Batman. The 6 Stages of Batman.
1. You're a civilian. Batman is a myth and a meme.
2. You're a brand-new amateur rookie superhero. Batman is totally a myth, guys, right? This is just hazing the new guy. Lol. I'm too smart for this.
3. You're a rank-and-file part time hero. You know better than to go to Gotham, but you won't say why out loud.
4. You're an established superhero. Batman is a founding member of the Justice League and probably a vampire.
5. You're a League reservist. Batman is a ninja Sherlock Holmes CIA Hacktivist and also the thing that lives in your nightmares.
6. You're a front-line Justice League member. Batman is a single dad who gives dad advice and makes dad jokes and keeps trying to dad at you.
Yep, this was the world I was living in now. But here the Justice League didn't exist or hadn't assembled yet.
We walked in silence the rest of the way, until we when our separate ways. Yelena worked at a café from 9-5 a in the city, and I worked in the I.T. department at Wayne Enterprises. By choice, my life as a weapon is over.
Meme of the day
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