After multiple run-ins with death and many shocking self-discoveries in the course of a few months, all America Evans wants to do is hide away in Washington with Steve until she finds out who she really is. But life as an Avenger doesn't allow for a...
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AMERICA'S POV
I wake up early, my mind still swirling from nightmares of blood, Hydra, guns, and occasional appearances from the Winter Warrior and Bucky. Instead of trying to get some more rest, I quietly slip out of bed, pull on leggings and a top, then head down the hall to the only other person in the compound who I know will be up at five-thirty in the morning.
I knock quietly on his door, open it a crack, then whisper, "Pietro? Do you want to go spar?"
"Let me get dressed." I grin as I go grab us waters in the kitchen. He didn't sound the least bit tired. Pietro doesn't wake up early because of nightmares. He just wakes up early. It's nice to have a running partner that can keep up with me, too.
Not even a minute later, he's outside. "Ready?"
We both take the stairs, as neither of us have the patience for elevators, and enter the training room. Pietro's my most frequent partner here. I train with Natasha and Steve sometimes, but they tend to pair off and lead the speed-sparring to us. I've been told it's really freaky to watch Pietro and I fight just because of how fast we are. It's like two blurs of motion punching each other. Sometimes we watch the security footage in slow motion to actually understand what's happening.
We start by doing laps around the massive gym just to warm our muscles up. It's good to stay loose. After about a half an hour of straight running, we start to slow down and head over to the training mats.
"Sleep okay?" He asks as he wraps his wrists. I shrug, stretching out my legs.
"No. But I usually don't. You?"
"Fine. I don't like to sleep. There's so much I'd rather be doing." He grins and tosses me the gauze. "Are you going to go easy on me today?"
"Well, what did you learn last time?" We're pretty evenly matched, but I'm a better fighter, so I've been giving him some pointers.
"That neither of my sisters have any problem with beating me up."
"That's correct."
"Weapons or no?" I shake my head. "Okay."
Usually, I stay on defense mode for the majority of a fight, but I've been working on the element of surprise, so I decide to play offense today. I throw the first punch so quickly that Pietro barely has time to dodge. He grins cockily, and the fight begins.
Pietro attempts to sweep my legs out from underneath me, but I jump and avoid him. As I throw another punch, he blocks my fist, grabs it, and twists. I land hard on my back and quickly roll before he can strike again. If he pins me, I'll lose. He's too strong. However, he must have anticipated that, because he switches directions and hits my arm in the exact place I rolled to. For a minute, he thinks he's victorious, and I do, too. With all of my strength, I push him off of me and tackle him, pinning him to the ground.
I blow a lock of hair out of my face, grin, and ask, "what? You didn't see that coming?"
"Shut up. All right, I yield." I offer him a hand up, then begin to unwrap my hands. My muscles buzz with energy and sweat drips down my neck. It's moments like these where I feel alive, where the adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I have to fight to catch my breath. "I did see that coming. You're getting a little predictable, Val."
"I must be rusty." I shrug, walking over to grab a towel to wipe the sweat off. "I still won!"
"Yeah, but you're getting easier to anticipate."
"I'm working on it. You're still not moving as fast as you can during a fight," I point out. "I've seen the numbers. It's like something's holding you back."
"I'll go quicker in a real situation. I just don't want to hurt you." He grimaces as he flexes his fingers. Bruised. "For the week you got, how was Malibu?"
"It was nice," I say. "The beaches were really pretty. We had a lot of fun."
"That's good. You want something to eat? I'm starving."
The two of us arrive in the kitchen to find Natasha, Steve, and Sam already eating. They all say hello, but the atmosphere in the room is tense, tight. Anything could break the peace. I excuse myself to go rinse off, and after, I don't immediately head back to the kitchen. I knock on Wanda's door.
"You in there? It's Val."
"You can come in," Wanda says softly. My mood darkens when I realize she's watching the media coverage of Sokovia. They're talking badly about all of us, but her specifically. I grab the remote and shut it off before either of us have to hear more.
"It's not your fault." I sit on the bed next to her. "None of this is your fault."
"Turn the television back on, Valeria. They're being very specific."
"I know. Believe me, I know." I frown as I remember the last few years of the press criticizing me. "All I can say is they don't know you. They don't know any of us. They don't know how hard this is. You tried to save people. Some you did, and others you didn't. That's what happens in this job, unfortunately. But we all care too much to leave."
It's takes me a minute to realize that I'm reassuring myself as well as my sister.
She shakes her head. "I should have done something more. I should have been more careful."
"Maybe you should have. Maybe I should have been there with you. But it's in the past. We can't change it now." I open my mouth to say something else, but Vision walks through the wall and that kind of ruins the moment.
Wanda sighs. I get the feeling that this has happened before. "Vis! We talked about this."
"Yes, but the door was open, so I assumed that..." He clears his throat and straightens up. "I thought you'd like to know when Mr. Stark was arriving."
I nod. "We'll be down in a minute. Thanks, Vision."
"I'll... use the door." He's almost done when he turns. "Oh, and apparently he's brought a guest."
