Who the hell am I (english version)

training

On the horizon, I see the sun slowly rising as I sit on my bed, waiting for Nat. In 10 minutes, our morning workout begins. New day, new luck, as they say. Last night, we returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. and quickly handed over the stick with the requested information to Fury. He seemed satisfied with our performance, but he's probably the only one.

Steve is disappointed in us, who would have thought? It's hard to blame him, but he also assured us that he understands we were just following Fury's orders, as is our duty here. He wants to talk to Fury about such assignments, which happen behind his back and can jeopardize the mission, but I doubt Fury will stop assigning such tasks, especially since it's not the first time Nat and I have had a different mission during one. The whole thing kept me up for a long time last night. When exhaustion finally overcame me, the dreams started again.

There he was again, the man I always dream about. Also, a younger version of Steve appeared once more; he was much smaller and thinner than he is today, and a girl with blonde, curly hair whom I didn't recognize, but I called her Christa, so I must have known her somehow, at least in my dream. We were at a swimming lake; it was a very warm and sunny day, and I enjoyed the time while we frolicked in the water and I felt a sense of happiness that I only know from my dreams. I woke up from this dream, breathless and with a racing heart. I just don't understand it. Where do these dreams come from? Where was this lake? Why is Steve in them? Who is Christa? Who is he? After I woke up, every attempt to fall back asleep was unsuccessful, so I went to the bathroom at 5:00 AM, took a cold shower, and got ready for the day.

I'm still lost in thought about my dream when there's a knock at the door. I open it, and Nat looks me in the eye. She has dark circles under her eyes and doesn't seem as motivated today as usual. It must have kept her up too. I'll have to have a word with Fury about this, but that can wait. I briefly pull Nat into a hug and hold her for a few seconds. Then I push her away at arm's length and nod with a smile. "It'll get better; we've done worse," I say to her. A hesitant smile creeps onto her lips, and she nods. On some of our missions, things have blown up, or we haven't quite completed a side mission as planned, but I'd say we always achieved our goal, well, maybe more like 90% of the time.

Steve was never angry or disappointed in us for more than 24 hours. If he were, his life would be quite exhausting, and staying upset during the next mission doesn't do much good. We head to the elevator together and make our way. Since there are no new assignments today and nothing is suddenly erupting into chaos, this morning's workout is a bit longer but also quieter than usual.

When we return, Nat and I decide to use the day for training. We start with target practice using various weapons. 50 meters with a throwing knife: hit. 150 meters with the Glock: hit. 200 meters with the M4: hit. 400 meters with the sniper: hit. At least that's going well today. I've always been very good with firearms; I don't know where it comes from, but I'm not complaining. Nat is stretching on a mat behind me and says nothing.

I let ice daggers rain down on a target. One dagger, one hit. Four at once, three hits. It's already better than a few months ago when they occasionally ended up in completely the wrong corner of the room. "Hey, three days of rain, give me back my best friend," I say and smile at her over my shoulder. She gives a brief snort but a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. That's something. I crawl over to her and sit on a mat. Nat always seems very tough on the outside, but she has a soft side that comes out when we're alone. "Do you think he's still mad?" she asks me after several minutes of silence. She knows herself that this isn't the case, but she wants to hear it from me. "I highly doubt it. He was never angry for long, and we've done far worse," I reply with a quick wink, and I really mean it. Now she really smiles.

"But I'm still a bit mad at you," I say in a teasing tone. Now her smile fades a little, and she looks at me confused. I have to get this off my chest. "I told you that once we got back, we'd talk about you trying to set Steve up with other women." Nat opens her mouth to say something but then closes it again, thinking. I look at her expectantly. I don't think I've ever seen this woman so unsure except when it comes to Steve Rogers. "I think there are better ways than recommending Priston or his neighbor," I say, raising my eyebrows slightly. She looks down, then nods. I crawl over to her and nudge her on the shoulder. "Come on, a little hand-to-hand combat training will take your mind off things," I say to her, and we both get up. Wow, it has come to this, that I offer myself as her personal punching bag; let's see if I'll regret it. Two hours later, each of us has been thrown to the mat about a dozen times, and we call it a day for training. Everything hurts.