The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Fifty three

"So it's basically a just a massive waste of electricity?"

Peter looks at me as if I've just slapped his Aunt and called her a Bitch.

"What, No!"

I huff, craning my neck to look around and the thousands of vibrant screens decorating the square around me. Everywhere you look, some form of bright billboard displays increasingly wacky adverts in the hopes of convincing people to buy a product they really don't need. In reality, it's a stage show designed to capture interest long enough for companies to reach into the people of America's pockets and steal the money right out.

Ah, New York - where capitalism and consumerism walk hand in hand.

At least it's pretty.

"There's more screens here than I can count - do you really think this is an effective advertising technique when people are more interested in the aesthetic of the whole thing?" I ask Peter pointedly, raising an eyebrow as I watch the kid glance around him.

"Seriously? That's just..." He trails off as he considers my point, the air of indignation slowly dissipating. I watch as he takes in the crowds of people milling around Times Square, taking photos excitedly. Finally, his features settle into a defeated scowl and he makes a face at me. "Just shut up and enjoy the view."

I try to stifle my laugh but fail, instead letting it ring out around us and get lost in the din of the city. Peter's frown lasts about three seconds before he too dissolves into a chuckle.

Still giggling, I turn to look at the rest of our company as they stare at Times Square. The three of them stand relatively close to us now, unable to drift far in case they lose sight of Peter and I.

Natasha and Bucky still look relatively unimpressed, though not unhappy. I think Bucky's mood has more to do with the hoards of people surrounding us than his lack of interest in the electronic marvel that is Time Square. I don't blame him, I know I've been more on edge since we started to encounter a larger volume of humans - it's so much easier to hide in a sea of unfamiliar faces and so much harder to pick up on ill intentions.

But the person who surprises me most is Steve. Instead of his usual cheerful expression, there is a deep sadness in the crease of his brow, his shoulders slightly slumped and his figure rigid. He stands with his back to the rest of us, arms folded as he stares around at the visual assault of colours.

I'm not the only one who has noticed Steve's dip in mood. Both Natasha and Bucky watch on with knowing looks, their own faces betraying a subtle worry and sympathy.

The urge to comfort the super soldier nags at the back of my mind but I suppress it - I have no idea what to say to him. So instead I move to stand by Nat as Bucky walks to his friend.

"What's wrong with him?" I ask as quietly as I can without my words being lost to the city.

Natasha's eyes don't leave the pair of super soldiers. We watch, silent for a moment, as Bucky gently claps Steve on the shoulder. The blonde turns to look at him with concealed melancholy, forcing a smile when he meets his friend's eyes.

"When he first woke up from the ice he ran into the middle of all this." The red head whispers finally, glancing around her. "One minute he's fighting in World War 2, the next he's waking up almost seventy years later, realising everyone he knows is gone."

Something shifts in the green of her gaze as she references Steve's old life, specifically his friends. It's gone too soon to identify and her eyes are guarded once more, looking away from me to watch the two soldiers walking back to us, their expressions more cheerful than they had been.