Artemis: The Final Battle ➳ Steve Rogers [2]

B O N U S C H A P T E R (2)

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C A M I L L E

4:05. It never changes. Multiple times I've tried to test the theory, staring at a clock for what felt like hours. And, still. It. Never. Changes.

I'm not sure what it means. Or if it's all just a figment of my imagination. Maybe hallucinating? I swear I hear voices sometimes. Once it was Clint's, telling me to fight. Another of it was Tony's, telling me to give him a sign. Of what?

Leaning my head back against the back of the couch, I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn it, am going crazy again? It all feels like I'm in one of those mind games Madame Hydra seems fond of.

"You alright?"

I gasp, bringing a hand to my chest in shock as I whirl around to look at Steve, "You scared me."

"You looked like you were miles away," He says, watching me with furrowed brows. "Is something wrong?"

I shake my head and force a smile, "Everything's fine," I lied, hesitating for a minute before adding, "Actually, I think the clock's broken."

Steve glances over my head at the clock, "It looks like it's working fine."

I raise my gaze to look at the clock once again and gulped. 4:05.

"What time is it?" I asked and Steve frowns.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I lie again, "Can you just tell me the time? Please?"

Steve sighs but does what I've asked anyway. "It's a quarter to three."

I nod at his answer as dread starts to settle in my stomach, "Thank you." Looking around the quiet house, I ask, "Where are the kids?"

Steve pauses, "Kids? Whose kids?"

"What do you mean?" I frowned, "Our kids."

"Our kids," Steve repeats, his voice laced with confusion. "Cam, we don't have kids."

"What?" I let what he'd just said sink in. We don't have kids.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again, his brows furrowed.

I run a hand across my face, I wonder if this was some kind of trap and fought against the urge to demand more answers just in case it was.

For the first time since I've woken up- or rather, in the time I've known Steve- I grow a little suspicious of him. Is this even my Steve?  Is anyone here even really who they say they are?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I run a hand through my hair trying desperately to figure out what the hell was going on here.

"Your brain needed time to heal," Steve says suddenly and my eyes snap to meet his.

The change is subtle, but I see it in his eyes. There's a sense of clarity to them now that wasn't there before and he's taken on a more relaxed demeanour.

"What did it need to heal from?" I asked.

"The Death Stone," He answers, "This isn't real, Camille. None of this is, not even me."

A nervous laugh bubbles in my throat, "What are you going on about?"

"It's all in your head," Steve says, "You've been in a coma." He takes a step towards me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "It's time to wake up."

"How are you talking to me, then?" I question, "How do you know these things that I don't? Wouldn't I know if this isn't reality?"

"I'm a part of your subconscious, Camille. That's how I know."

"So, I created you." Another humourless laugh leaves me, "You're telling me that I've been talking to myself all this time?"

"I was created based on your memories of me," He replies, "I guess you could say I'm still me. You don't need this world you've conjured up in your mind anymore. You're ready."

"And what if I'm not?"

"If you weren't, you wouldn't have noticed the details that don't make sense." He jerks his chin towards the clock, "Like how the time never changes. You never noticed that before, have you? Even if you did, you never thought twice about it."

My mind races, thinking back to all the times I've felt that something amiss. And he was right. I never did spare too much about it. It was I didn't want to see the truth...or if what he was saying was true, it was as if I knew I wasn't ready for it.

"Come back to me," I squeeze my eyes shut at the feel of Steve's hand on my cheek, or rather, how real it all had felt.

"I don't know how," I whisper, opening my eyes to meet his stunning blue eyes.

"Just focus on me," He says, resting his forehead against mine.

I frown at him, "I am."

"Not the me in your head, baby. Me. The real me."

And I do, shutting my eyes and thinking about all the time Steve and I had spent together. I guess in a way, I had known he was meant to be mine ever since the first moment I had laid eyes on him.

I think about the first time we'd kissed. The time he got on one knee and finally proposed.

Then, the was the time I thought I lost him. When he'd looked at me and didn't have a clue who I was.

At the end of the day, he'd found his way back to me. No matter what, we had always found our way back to each other. And I had a feeling this time was going to be no different.

As I relieved our memories together inside my head, I start to drift off sometime in between.

I'm not sure what it was, but I'm pretty sure I could hear the sound of a steady beeping filling my head.