Just Him&I: In a Universe of Cruelty

Part 20

When you meet someone you haven't seen for a long time. Someone who has become dearer to you than a mother. And without whom you are almost nothing and cannot imagine your life without them. The heart begins to beat incessantly in your chest after so many weeks of silence. The soul is filled with such familiar and gentle warmth that it's impossible to convey in words.

That's exactly how I felt when I saw James at the entrance door. He looked better than I remembered him in court. His long hair was still tied back in a ponytail, and his hands were hidden in the pockets of his jacket. Afraid of excessive looks from people. We briefly crossed glances, and he averted his gaze as quickly as he entered the room, heading to the far corner.

There were only three people in the room. Fury, James, and I. For what? Nick kept the reason a secret until his arrival.

— Today I gathered you so that you could prove your loyalty. And join the Avengers ranks. — Nick began — the two of you are flying to Seattle (Canada) to disrupt a deal and stop the illegal sale of data about S.H.I.E.L.D. You need to retrieve the flash drive. The flight is today at half-past seven, so you have time to pack your things. You'll stay there for a few days to monitor and resolve the situation. The hotel room is booked; you'll be driven there straight from the airport.

— The data? — I stared at Nick.

— It's already in your rooms — he replied — You may go. But you, Barnes, stay for a moment — he pointed at me, and I nodded to him in response and headed to the exit.

My heart was still pounding as if it might fall out, and I feared he could hear it in such silence. But James was as detached and cold as possible. No surprise; he's always like that with people. But I hope not with me.

I didn't have as many things as other girls my age. And they were all here even before I arrived. I quickly packed everything into a fairly spacious backpack. I put in my toothbrush, hygiene products, a little perfume, lipstick, mascara, and I was ready. I began studying the documents.

Henry Stamford — a rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who illegally copied the data. The deal was signed for 6 billion dollars and would take place at a banquet. In honor of the opening of a chain of restaurants — John Oldman, who is also the buyer of the flash drive for unknown purposes.

There was a photo of the buyer and the seller. Their detailed biography from birth date to blood type. A bit about the banquet hall, and at the very end, an entry pass for tomorrow's event.

I involuntarily remembered how I used to sell weapons, and now I am on the other side of the screen. These memories didn't bring me any pain or despair. Just an unpleasant residue buried somewhere deep and a nervous smile at the absurdity of the situation. I can't believe I used to work with him. And that he's my biological father. But that's in the past, and I live for the future.

Rough boots, skinny jeans, a black shirt, and a jacket. The usual five braids and a cap to avoid being recognized on the streets.

It was getting dark outside, and someone knocked on my door. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, grabbed my laptop, and opened the door, guessing who it was.

Everything reminded me of a silly dream, but I kept my composure and looked at him for just a moment.

— I'm ready — he let me pass first and walked behind me. We behaved as if we'd never met before. I wouldn't say we had friendly relations, but this wasn't what I expected.

— We're going to the airport on our own. About an hour and a half drive. — he rasped, and I flinched a bit, not expecting him to say anything at all.

I stayed silent and got into the car. Dropping my backpack, I immediately went online looking for something about my mom. But all attempts were futile. I just closed the laptop and shut my eyes. The whole time we drove in silence, which pressed on me mentally and didn't let me move.

— How are you?! — I dared to ask, continuing to stare out the window where nothing was visible long ago. But I kept a thoughtful look as if I were genuinely interested.

— I'm fine. Why did you do it?.. — his voice was softer than when we left. I sensed a note of curiosity that couldn't be faked.

— I felt guilty. I thought I'd help you, but only made it worse. — he looked at the road, glancing at me from time to time. He nodded in understanding.

— The game wasn't worth the candle — I'd long realized what a fool I was. And my desire to help people never ends well. Ideally, it should be the opposite, but I didn't help James; I put myself in a position that made him worry. If he worried, of course, but from his response to my actions, it's clear that he did, without exaggeration.

— Do your nightmares continue? — I decided not to end this dialogue. This was the main question that followed. "Why did you do it?!"

— Relentlessly.. — he pressed harder on the car's steering wheel, his facial muscles continuing to tense.

— Are they memories?! — I kept pushing on an open wound. I went deeper and deeper. There was no way back.

— I barely sleep — he licked his lips and looked at me — For several days I tried to sleep. I dreamed that I killed a child. And it's not my fantasy but real memories. — I lost my breath, and the car felt stifling as I clenched my fist, trying to hold back tears, and I succeeded.

It hurt for him and for that innocent child. What did that child do to my father? My biological father is just an immoral jerk. This made me feel even worse.

I wanted to clasp my hands around his neck and strangle him until he turned blue. Letting him go to let him catch his breath, then continue to press.

— I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Does anyone else know about this? — I squeezed out. I covered his hand with mine and gently stroked it. His hand was so cold it seemed — it was his prosthetic.

— No, only you... — he flinched slightly at my touch, just like I did when he spoke, and I smiled slightly in understanding, encouraging as best as I could. But I still couldn't process what had just been said.

— Fury assigned me a psychologist. That's why he held me back — I was glad he continued talking. Glad he would see a psychologist and get help. Glad that I still hadn't removed my hand.

— Thank you for your trust — I whispered softly and turned to the window. He glanced at me briefly and returned to watching the road. Still tense but not rejecting me or my help, for which I was grateful to him. And I always would be.