Ghost of You

t w e n t y - f o u r

There haven't been many moments in my life where I've felt like a coward. I'm normally confident enough in my abilities to know that I'll get myself out of whatever situation I get myself into. But when I walked into that conference room and felt the eyes of my old teammates staring at me in shock, it had been like a switch had been flicked inside of me, triggering every cowardly bone and nature in my body that I had managed to suppress for years on end. 

Secretary Ross and my father were standing at the head of the table, a large glass projector screen behind them. The entire team was gathered around the wooden conference table except for Tony, who was slumped in a chair off to the side. I had stepped backwards, tucking myself into the front corner of the room, wishing I was one of those tree frogs who could completely camouflage with their surroundings. 

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting most of you." Ross began. As he made his introduction, a fellow employee I recognized from Ross's office came into the room, carrying a few binders, a briefcase, and a large stack of familiar papers. 

"This is my colleague, General Grant Phillips, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff." Ross continued as he pointed to my father and then over his shoulder towards me. "And I believe you're all already familiar with his daughter and one of my newest employees, (Y/n)."

Being the trained agents and operatives that my old teammates were, I doubted either Ross or my father could note any particular reaction from any of them to this statement. Having worked with them for so long, I had learned their ticks so I knew that the way Nat's eyes had flicked to me, or the way Sam rolled his shoulders in a slight circle meant that they were shocked by this news. I wasn't sure what surprised them most, that I had actually taken a job with Ross, or that my father was the same man who had been gunning after the Avengers in the media for the past six months. 

I had kept my birth parent's last name, my adoptive parents never having changed it legally to their's. My mom had said she didn't want me to ever feel truly disconnected from my parents, even though they weren't around anymore. Even if I had taken their name, Phillips was common enough that they may not have ever thought anything of it. Ironically, the only person who did know was the one person who seemed the most agitated by Ross's declaration. 

Since I stepped foot in that room, I could barely bring myself to look at any of them. Looking at them reminded me of the one person I wished I could forget more than anything. The same person that I could physically feel staring me down from his seat at the table. His gaze pulled on mine like a magnet making it impossible to find the strength to resist.  

Steve was looking at me in complete disbelief, his eyes conveying a thousand questions without having muttered a single word. I kept my own eyes blank and unreadable. I was done letting him in, I was done allowing myself to get my hopes up over a man who would only ever see me as temporary relief from his pain. When he couldn't get any answers from me, I saw Steve's gaze flicker to my father where they hardened. My father met the coldness of Steve's stare head on, the corner of his lips tugging into a satisfied smirk. I knew he hadn't forgotten their last encounter, Steve forcing my father out of the compound and keeping him away from me. I could tell from the look of victory in my father's eyes that he had finally gotten his revenge. As if somehow, me literally standing behind him now and not at the table next to Steve had meant that he had won. To my father, balance was restored and the battle was over. Judging the way Steve's fist had clenched and his eyes narrowed, the war was far from finished. 

Meanwhile, Ross was going on and on about the heart attack he had five years ago in the middle of a round of golf. I must have heard him tell this story twenty times already. Ross is a man with four congressional medals of honor. I think he, like my father, would frequently tell stories like this to make him seem normal and human, as if admitting you had a weakness could make a person great. If he thought a story about "gaining perspective" and learning how precious life is, then he had another thing coming. If there was anything every single person sitting at that conference table knew, it was how sacred and fragile each human life truly was.