Ghost of You

t h i r t y - s i x

I didn't think I'd be back on a plane so soon. After being released from that cell, I pretty much assumed I'd be stuck at Tony's facility upstate for the foreseeable and unforseeable future. And yet, here I am, sitting on yet another government jet.

I hate government jets.

For one thing, government jets are always carrying government employees. Big shocker, I know. But these employees are always wearing their special uniforms. Uniforms that remind me of my father's. Just seeing them brings those moments to the front of my mind. My father coming home from work only to turn what should have been happy memories of my mother into sour reminders of the father I've never really had.

The other killer is that most government planes, at least the jets I'd found myself on in my lifetime, don't have windows other than in the cockpit.

Ever since I'd spent all that time in Ross's cell, I haven't been able to spend substantial time in windowless rooms. The inclosed spaces seem to suck all the air out of the area around me, leaving none for my wind pipes. Sometimes I swear I can even hear Tony's voice echoing off the walls. "For what it's worth I was sorry to hear about your mom." I inhale deeply, squeezing my eyes shut. "I know what it's like to lose a parent."

My fists are clenched tight in my lap, as if the action could squeeze the words so far from my memory that they no longer had any meaning. I force out another shakey breath.

Healing is such a humbling experience. The minute you think you're doing better, you can be brought straight back to your lowest point. It's a never ending, uphill climb. It's a maze with no exit. It's a tiny plane with no windows full of soldiers who look exactly like-

"Ma'am?"

My eyes shoot open to see one of Ross's men giving me a stern look. I'm surprised when I realize I actually know this man.

"No way." I say, slightly shocked. The truth is, I don't really know this man. I don't know his name or anything about him, but my eyes had immediately pegged him as the man who forced me out of Bucky Barnes' chamber mid-interrogation back in Berlin.

"Pilot says we'll be on the ground in about ten minutes." He says, sounding uncomfortably robotic, and completely ignoring the fact that we've met before. "Prepare for landing."

I give him a mock salute, which earns me a disapproving glare before he stalks off toward the front of the jet. The sight of his disapproval brings my thoughts back to the same issue I had been mulling over since I stepped foot on this jet which is that Tony was wrong to send me on this mission.

This mission was delicate. It required patience, good socials skills and sensitivity, three things I had been sorely lacking these days. While my therapy sessions had been helpful and informative, they came with side affect of being in a constant state of brutal honesty.

I had learned over the past months that so many of the issues I'd faced could have been avoided if I had just been brave enough to be honest with people. Maybe Steve and I would still be talking if I had just told him of my feelings earlier on. Maybe my dad would have been understanding if I had told him I didn't want to train with those daggers anymore. Maybe this, maybe that. I'm so entirely done with maybes. I'm tired of being quiet. I'm worn down from holding back important truths. While overall this new mindset had proven to be beneficial, I've become aware that it's turned me a bit into a loose cannon. This mission, and my job even are not meant for people without filters, or those unable or unwilling to hold back sarcastic comments.

I had tried to explain this to Tony. When he told me Ross wanted me to leave Tony's facility for this mission, I fought back on it. Hard. But my worries fell onto unconcerned ears. When I told him I didn't want to go, he had said it was inevitable that I'd be going out into the field at some time.