Three Years Ago
After Wanda had left and I'm sure she was out of ear shot, everything flowed through my body. I pressed my head against the wall... baby blue, so innocent... I am anything but innocent. I'm trembling. I can't stop. Even as I press my hand against the wall it shakes, it trembles. It's raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions. I can't stop... I can't stop.
Why can I not stop crying? I did this to her, to myself. I wasn't the one who was getting their heart stepped on and ripped into millions of pieces but like Wanda, I was falling apart. More than I'd like to admit, everyone who were my rocks in a hard place were over 12 hours away. Wanda was my first one, one that would comfort me after a mission where I couldn't save everyone.
Tony, he was the best one. I went to him if I couldn't find Wanda. He was an expert in what it felt like to be expendable, to be unwanted. This man had experienced both good and bad. So when it came to consoling someone who needed it, who was losing their sanity and breathing like their breath had been knocked out, he'd be the man.
Steve had experienced loss, too much for a nice man. He lost his best friend right in front of him. Maybe Steve couldn't see it happen but he knew it happened. He watched Bucky fall hundreds of feet to an assumed death. The worst part about it is when his heart broke as Bucky asked, 'Who the hell is Bucky...?' He knows a thing or two about loss.
Hours later, my throat was too raw to speak. Perfect... I had a presentation tomorrow to the council on how to deal with a new foe. With a voice this quiet and eyes so bloodshot, there was no way I'd be able to survive the severe scrutiny of my coworkers.
Present Day
"But... How long will you be out?" I fidgeted with a loose string in my shirt before bringing my coffee cup to my lips and conceal the uneasiness in the air.
"I'm leaving in a few hours, it should be two or three days tops." Steve answers with a shrug. "Easy peazy," he smiled, shoving an impressive forkful on pancakes into his mouth.
"If it's so easy, why do you have to go?" I set my cup down again with a little more questionable force behind it, ignoring the concerned eyes of Mr. Steve Rogers, continuing to question the man in front of me, "You can send anyone, instead. I can go. Why not send me?"
"Well, the fact I consider it easy, doesn't mean it is to other people." There's not a trace of arrogance in his tone, only honesty and even a little bit of humility only Steve Rogers can pull off, which makes me sigh in defeat. "Besides, you've been here for what? One week after over three years away and already wanna leave again? What's this really about, Y/n?" He points and shakes his fork at me, frowning questioningly.
"What, I can't be worried about my workaholic and overloaded Captain who deserves a break every once in a while?" I lie, cutting a piece of pancake from his plate, hoping this would grab his attention and diverge it elsewhere.
He looking nothing but unconvinced, eyeing me suspiciously, "Not when I'm talking to the most workaholic person—" before he could inquiry me further, the door opened and caught the attention of us two. I hold my tongue upon hearing the voice of who interrupted us.
"Hey, Stevie, you're still here—" I didn't need to turn around to feel the look of discomfort on her face, knowing I was there, too.
At the eery silence following her entrance, I glance at Steve and return his apologetic look with a sad smile. Standing up, the chair scratches the floor, "Stay safe, Steve." I dismiss the responsibility of washing off my dishes in benefit of leaving the situation as soon as possible.
