Just Him&I: In a Universe of Cruelty

Part 19

Against the backdrop of towering skyscrapers, the sleeping metropolis, the sunrise in New York is a huge firework of colors and light.

The first rays break through the skyscrapers, spilling golden light on the glass walls. The silhouettes of skyscrapers look incredibly contrasting against the pink-orange sky, which gradually comes to life from the dawn's calm to the bright rhythm of city life. The sunrise in New York is not just a natural phenomenon but a spectacle of the city's pulse, where light intertwines with the architecture of the giant city.

I slowly walk through the city, returning from a mission. My hand is slightly bleeding as I was injured. I don't pay the slightest bit of attention to it. Continuing to look at the high-rises, I pass by a bar. It's open 24/7. I feel that a couple of shots of scotch are the only thing I need right now. Neither sleep nor rest nor a hospital—nothing but a drink. Maybe I can't even get drunk, but the taste itself calms me down or something.

I pull on the large glass doors. They yield easily. I immediately head to the bar and order a bottle of dark unfiltered beer to start, scanning the hall.

A few men. They look as if they haven't left here for a month, or even longer. Only at the end of the hall do I notice Steve and, without hesitation, go straight to him. Not expecting to see him here, and with a glass of whiskey at that.

— What brings you here?! — I call out to him and sit down across from him. He's in a hoodie and baggy jeans. His gaze is fixed on me after my words.

— I don't know. Just felt like drinking. — he looks down at his glass and taps it with his fingers, his gaze frowning. Though — that's my thing, I don't say anything.

— How are you? — the dumbest question to ask after Peggy's death. I realized it as soon as I asked him. I wonder why he didn't punch me in the face right away. It's not his style, to be honest.

— Fine, and you? — he gave me a smirk and pointed to my wounded hand. But I understood; he's definitely not talking about the hand.

— I hope you're not mad at her. I wouldn't have revealed who I was either, fearing people's judgment. And here, she's not to blame—double the pain. I was as honest with him as possible. What she did still doesn't make sense to me. And the main thing, for what, for my sake? Very foolish. What, where, how is she now? Go figure. She only made it worse for me, so I would have entrusted her to Steve without fear of the consequences.

— Of course, I understand. But it still doesn't fit in my head. Honestly, I was in such shock, words can't describe it. — he spoke emotionally, gesturing as he told me all this.

— Can she be helped in some way? Get her out of there somehow? — I looked at him with hope. But he looked at me in surprise.

— She's been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. for a long time. You didn't know? She's an agent. She's not in any more danger. — A sudden shock seized me when I found out. My thoughts intertwined as I tried to comprehend this incredible news. It was so unexpected that for a while, I just sat there, excited and confused. I shook my head in disbelief. I took a deep breath and kept looking him straight in the eyes.

— First time hearing it, but I'm glad. — I slightly smiled at the corners of my mouth and took a sip of beer.

We were interrupted by a phone call, which rang throughout the room. Steve picked up the phone and listened carefully, sipping whiskey. I watched his face, trying to understand from his expression what had happened and what he was talking about.

— Yes, alright! — he finished the call and hung up. I looked at him expectantly.

— They're calling us to S.H.I.E.L.D. Apparently, it's something important. It concerns you too, by the way. Fury himself called. Let's go. — I squinted