17 - Reconciliation

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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SMOOTH FABRIC DRAPED OVER SENSITIVE SKIN, and Emersyn winced as the clothing brushed against still-fresh cuts

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SMOOTH FABRIC DRAPED OVER SENSITIVE SKIN, and Emersyn winced as the clothing brushed against still-fresh cuts. Her shoulders ached when they held her shirt above her head, and every movement sent her muscles groaning for release. She exhaled deeply, allowing calm to wash over her as the clothing felt like a new skin, not afflicted by the previous days' pains. There was distant chatter from another room, and the voices were muffled by the walls, but she knew Steve and Nat were discussing their next plan. Her feet dragged more when she heard them because it reminded her that there was no time to rest. Normally, Emerysn might have been excited to move on to the next task and unravel the mystery, but not this time. As much as she wanted to be ready for the upcoming fight, her whole body protested, and her mind too.
Emersyn sighed and walked slowly to the kitchen, dropping her eyes to the floor glumly. Her presence was realized when Emersyn paused in the doorway, and Steve was first to halt the conversation.

All eyes fell on her and grew soft with sympathy. Her wet hair was in dark clumps that fell scraggly on her sagging shoulders; the glow from her face had faded and dark bags settled under her eyes from lack of sleep. The color of her lips was a dull pink and her cheeks were unusually pale. Any light left in Emersyn's eyes had gone out, and her dangling arms looked nervous at her side. She averted her gaze from her friends and settled into a seat at the table without a sound.

"Hey, Em," Natasha murmured lightly.

"Hi." Her lips barely parted to form the words.

Steve searched Emersyn's eyes with worried brows, longing for her to look up at him, but she remained focused on the floor. "We were just talking about what to do next," he told her gently.

Emersyn did not reply, but only kept her gaze blankly forward. Everyone seemed to shift in their seats awkwardly, so Sam disrupted the silence. "Let me know if you'd like a water or something." The kindness in his voice was sincere, but Emersyn didn't think she could feel anything other than the numbness engulfing her.

Natasha cleared her throat and began speaking to take the spotlight off Emersyn. "So, the question is, who at S.H.I.E.L.D could launch a domestic missile strike?"

Her mind was quiet and blank, and the words she heard were a droning hum that added to the dullness of her brain. Not a piece of stray thought floated into her mind; she had succumbed to the empty void of despair.

"Pierce," Steve stated. The name did not even register in Emersyn's mind. She felt like she was a visitor of a memory, watching everything play out and having no part in it. Her drooping eyes fluttered with exhaustion but held their blank stare on the table in front of her.

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