Words Upon Words

She is Gone (Avengers/ Captain America)

Avengers/ Captain America

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A girl was dead. Now that may not seem like the most enticing way to begin a story but it was the necessary one. Sugar coating such a thing would make no sense in a tale as is about to be told.

A girl was dead and her older brother was ridden with guilt. Of course by the law's standards he hadn't done a thing wrong but by his own he did nothing right. He could've stopped her from not being alive anymore if he'd only done this, that, or the other thing.

His heart was heavier than his eyelids for sleep came to him no more. He would go to the TV and rewatch the newscast of the "heroes" who had saved New York. Only a couple brief tributes to those who weren't clad in spandex or armour were shown. All those heroes and none of them could save her.

Maybe if he hadn't given her the tickets to New York as a Birthday gift. Maybe if he hadn't had to back out last minute. Maybe if he'd just rescheduled the trip she would still be alive to smile and laugh again.

Maybe if those superheroes had actually stopped the threat before it wrought havoc on an entire metropolis it wouldn't have been so bad. He'd grown up believing in superheroes, in powers used for good and justice. The likes of Captain America, the men of legends, whom he had spent his childhood looking up to were now no more than black masses to him. They couldn't save his sister for him so they were useless. He realised that wasn't rational but he made no effort to care. His sister was gone and no one at all could bring her back.

She had had hair the colour of a raven's feathers and eyes the colour of cinnamon. Her laugh had always been contagious and her spirit always yearning for the next adventure. Her name was Zoë which ironically meant "life" and now she was alive no more.

He remembered the last words she had said to him, "I wish you could come Mark! It's not gonna be as much fun without you!" He'd told her that was nonsense, given her a hug, and watched her get on the train to leave.

He had long dried off his tears and was now left numb. It'd been a week. For him, the week was horror. Family came from all around and friends hoarded paying their respects. His parents were distraught. Her friends were a mess. But he was as silent as an abandoned cathedral, no bells ringing nor choir chanting- only the sound of mournful repose.

They had not returned her body yet. She had been in Grand Central Station when it collapsed. They had found her purse under one of the heavy columns and they said nearby was the remains.

Mark had been sitting for hours when he heard the doorbell ring yet again. He sighed and shook himself from his numb mourning for a moment more. He knew his parents wouldn't get the door, they hadn't all week, he could hear their quiet sobs from the back again.

A knock rang out again and he ran to the door and opened it. Before him stood a man. The man had blond hair, parted neatly on the left. The man seemed to be a few inches taller than the Mark. He was muscled but had more than a few scrapes and bruises marring his appearance. The other man looked tired and somehow out of place in the doorway, he had on a leather jacket and jeans but it was something in his eyes that seemed older, different, though he was maybe only twenty-five. And yet, Mark recognized him instantly, his face hardened.

"Sir, I don't mean to interrupt... But is your name Mark Neelson?" The man finally asked somewhat cautiously.

"Yes... Why?" Mark felt curiosity pricking at his mind but he kept a glum face.

The man paused, as if unsure whether to continue. "Your sister, her name is Zoë correct?... was she in New York last week?"

"How do you know about my sister?" The very mention of her made his heart ache again.