Prismatic ⇒ Avengers [ 2 ]

Under Scrutiny

Steve turns up at sometime in the early hours of the morning- a time by which I've had no tears left to cry, and a very long time to think.

Death is a part of life- the last part of life, precisely. When I think of all the times that I could have died, there are too many to count- if my life were a video game, I'd probably be on my thousandth re-spawn. But against all the odds, I'm still here, I'm still breathing, and if I continue the same way, surely I'll remain alive a little longer.

That's what I tell myself, anyway- although if I do die, I suppose it doesn't really matter. People wouldn't mourn for long, would they? I'm sure the people I know could move on relatively quickly. It would probably be easier for them to have someone less problematic in their lives.

"Penny for them?"
I don't turn at the sky-blue sound of Steve Rogers voice, hoping he didn't see the flinch that now comes with sudden noise or movement.
"My mind's got to be worth a dollar, at least." I refute, surprised when he sits down next to me, staring out over the city. I'm at one of my favourite places in the tower- a stretch of uninterrupted glass, looking out over the city, ever glowing. New York is the best definition of immortality.

"It's a good view." The super-soldier says, conversationally. I take a sideways glance at him, noting the bruising that casts shadows along his face. You're a pretty good view yourself.
"Must be different to what you remember." I continue, glad the conversation is on stable ground. Talk about the other person, not yourself. It's a tactic I try and employ with pretty much everyone, given the chance.
"I'm getting used to it. I remember when the most exciting thing I'd ever seen was a flying car prototype. It was Tony's father, actually, who designed him. Howard Stark."

"You knew Tony's dad?" I ask, surprised. He's never mentioned that before. Actually, I know nothing about Tony's parents, apart from the fact he inherited Stark Industries from them, and that they died in some kind of road accident. Snap.
"Yeah, he was a character." Steve chuckles slightly, at some distant memory. "Some things don't change. Seems like I can't escape the Starks, no matter what time I'm in."

"I'm sorry- about Bucky. I mean, I should have stopped him. He was so close and he just..." I sigh, the frustration of the moment bubbling back to the surface. He was right there. But he disappeared like a ghost, like smoke, there one minute and gone the next.
"I'll find him." Steve says. "He's still in there- he always has been, if what you said was true; that he saved your life."

"I think I would have killed myself if he hadn't been there." The words slit the air like a knife, and goosebumps prickle my arms. "I- he distracted me. It was nice to see someone who wasn't her. He was never cruel to me. He called me little sister."
Steve's face softens. "You must have been important to him."
"I owe him everything. Without him, I'd probably be dead, or brainwashed in some godforsaken corner of the planet." I admit. "I couldn't have done it on my own."

"I wouldn't underestimate yourself." Steve says. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone fight so furiously."
"I can't fight all the time."
"That's the thing- you don't have to." He straightens up next to me, his arms over his knees. "When I was at war, as a soldier, I saw guys shell-shocked, guys who couldn't remember their own names. I saw guys wade through miles of mud half-asleep, guys covered in blood, amputations on the battlefield." I wince. It's so strange, hearing him talk about a war- the Second World War- that happened so long ago. He seems so young, and yet he's as much a veteran as the ninety year old men in nursing homes across the world.

"We weren't fighting the enemy most of the time, we were fighting ourselves." Steve continues. "The damage the conditions we were in caused in people's minds was far worse than the mortar and shrapnel from the Germans. But the company kept going. They got up, they ate, they walked, they chatted, they slept. They kept on and on and on, even through the worst of times. And if was doing that, day in, day out, that was the most impressive part for me. A fight is nothing. You live, you live, you die, you die. That's it. But getting through a day in war is the real struggle."