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2016
You think once I was brought to the Avengers compound to live with Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts I'd be comfortable enough to sleep.
Nope. And it's been a week.
I've lasted longer without it, the sleep, but it's frustrating because this place is safe. Why don't I feel safe?
The room assigned to me was practically a luxury compared to the cold, metallic environment of the Hydra base. Soft bed, warm blankets, the whole deal. Yet, every time I closed my eyes, my mind would take me back to that capsule, to the experiments, to the pain. No matter how many times Mr. Stark reassured me that I was safe now, the memories lingered, haunting my dreams. Many nights I find myself up and wandering around.
Much like this night.
I pull the hood over my head, I refuse to wear anything other than hoodies and sweatpants because of my scars. I felt bad because Ms. Potts had gotten me nice silk pajamas and fancy clothes but I... I just can't stand to look at myself in the mirror, seeing the wounds I've gained, the hoodie, worn and slightly oversized, became a shield, a way to hide from my own reflection. It was an armor of comfort, albeit a makeshift one.
It's quiet, everyone else is lost in the realm of dreams. I envy them. I slipped out of my room, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the windows illuminated the Avengers compound. The building was eerily quiet at this hour, the hushed whispers of the night echoing in the corridors.
My footsteps echo softly against the polished floors as I make my way to the common area. The soft glow of the city's lights seeping through the large windows provides a sense of serenity. I gravitate toward the couch, sinking into its familiar embrace.
A slight creak of the door catches my attention, and I instinctively clench my fists and stand up, Mr. Stark appears in the doorway, his hands up in surrender, I let a sigh escape my lips as I collapsed onto the couch my muscles relaxing. "This is what? The eighth night in a row I find you up?" He teased as I felt the weight of the couch shift as he sat a few cushions away, "How about we focus on the fact you're always up to find me?" I retorted, the billionaire let out a playful scoff, "Well, Sleep can be elusive, especially after... everything that happened with me."
"Your boy band splitting up?" I said finally looking over at him, he gave me a sad smile, "Yeah." I looked away from him and outside the window overlooking the city, pulling my knees into my chest. "When you do sleep... Do you dream?" I asked, Mr. Stark sighed, a heavy exhale that carried the weight of his experiences. "I have nightmares, like, alternate timelines where I died in the fight."
On my sixth day here, Mr. Stark told me what happened about the fight during another late-night talk. The Avengers were split up into two over international oversight, and on top of that, one of the members, Steve Rogers, was reunited with his old best friend, my hell maker, The Winter Soldier. Though now I know his name is James "Bucky" Barns. Mr. Stark and I quickly made fun of the nickname "Bucky" for a good five minutes.
