fourteen
"sometimes i hear you,
but then i remember you're dead."
-

The faraway moon beams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the training room which Lusine has occupied for the last two hours. She's been testing herself. Seeing how long it takes for her to reach exhaustion.

Each day this week, her muscles have burned, and her chest heaved, and mouth swelled with sickly hot spit, but she pushes on.

Both Steve and Olea have warned her to take it easy countless times, but she's done with letting this set back hold her down. Though she knows her cousin fears that her work shall be undone with Lusine's insistence to push, that Steve fears she's going to slip back into her old ways, and that they both wonder whether she can ever be back to the warrior she was once, she continues.

For once, she strives for a goal for her own personal gain.

No longer is she out to please anyone else.

This is about herself. About healing after trauma. About taking control of her future for the first time in her life and not letting anyone, no matter who they are, have a word of say in it.

She's on a water break, gulping down the liquid, when the form of Natasha appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded across her chest.

"Hello, Agent Romanoff," Lusine greets, unsure how this conversation is going to go.

She's known this has been coming. She'd be stupid not to. Especially not after the way Lusine invaded her mind and forced her to witness the trauma she endured. It was wrong of her and she's regretted it ever since, but her impulsiveness has always been a vice of hers. Though she has tried to tame it over the years, it always catches her off guard in moments of fury. Once again, this has proven true.

"Good evening, Miss Volkov." She steps coolly into the room, assessing the weapons left lying on the floor and the tangle of bandages hanging off the bench. "Another afterhours training session, I see?"

"Yes," She replies, "I don't want to waste any more time getting back to my best."

"And your best? We haven't seen it?"

"No." Lusine glances down at her bruised knuckles. "I haven't been at my best for a long time. The Battle of New York was the closest I've been for quite some time, but... well, we both know what happened shortly after that."

Her gaze lifts to meet the eyes of the woman she has been opposed to in much of her time on Earth. She finds a steely stare. One which does not balk under the presence of such an unpredictable being. Lusine can respect that.

"I had no idea that was what caused you to return to Earth," Natasha says, her throat bobbing the only give away of the tension in her frame. The anticipation for disaster. Wound once more like a toy soldier. Ready to explode into action.

"You couldn't have known. I do not tend to make my private affairs well known to those who openly dislike and distrust me." Lusine's stature heightens as she straightens her back, instinctively shifting back into the courtly manners she'd had drilled into her all her life. "However, I shouldn't have forcefully shown that event to you knowing how much trauma it caused me to experience it. I apologise."

Towards the woman who has caused her so much grief, Lusine extends a hand.

Natasha doesn't hesitate. There's no reason to. Instead, she takes the hand and shakes it firmly. "I'm sorry for how I've acted to you, too."

"I would've been the same way if it was you who was invading my home. We sometimes act brashly to protect the ones we love." Lusine drops her hand. "I know that better than most. I forgive you."

A vision of a ghostly woman with a gash in her chest and a slice along her neck flickers in her peripheral. Lusine doesn't flinch. Her eyes remain locked on Natasha, unwavering.

"Now," she takes a step back, "if you'll excuse me, I'd like to continue my training."

Surprising both of them, Natasha asks, "Want some company?"

She blinks at the other woman before composing herself. Not bothering to conceal her smile at the beginnings of trust between herself and the black widow, Lusine nods her head. "I'd be honoured, but go easy on me, Romanoff, I'm still a little rusty."

-

"Good job today, Mills," Lusine praises, clapping the young woman on the back and squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "You've improved bounds since we began."

"Thanks!" She beams brightly, the rosiness in her cheeks more pronounced as her face scrunches in pride. "I've still got a long way to go, but I can't thank you enough for all your help."

"It's been my pleasure, even if we did have a rocky start." Lusine releases her grip and folds her hands together before herself. "You should get going. Don't want to be keeping Agent Edlen waiting."

"No, of course not," Mills replies. "I'll see you tomorrow." She scampers off, as bright and bushy-tailed as she'd been when she'd walked in. Tomorrow Lusine will have to work her harder if she's still got energy left to spare after training.

Unsure whether she should be ashamed to be simmering with excitement at the prospect of going on her first mission, Lusine makes her way to the meeting point.

A lot of pressure is riding on this, she's painfully aware of that, but it almost brings back those old feelings of purpose she used to have when she and Lycus would ride into battle to defend their home.

Though this is likely to be a lot less gory than that, the duty is all the same.

To enter the field for the good of the world she's grateful to call home.

When she waltzes into the room, late, all eyes turn on her. Including the pairs belonging to Steve Rogers and Olea Kella, two of the few people in this universe she trusts.

Olea is the first to drop whatever she'd been holding and rush over. "Is something the matter?" She questions, frowning deeply, her gaze sweeping her over for injuries.

"Uh, no," Lusine grips her hands and forcibly removes them from where they grip her upper arms. "I'm coming with you." Suddenly unsure, she glances over to Steve.

"And did Fury okay this?" He questions, clearly just as unsure as she is, though for an entirely different reason.

"Yes," She replies, conceding a step.

"Are you sure you want to go? You've only just recovered and, well, are you sure you're ready to go?" Olea asks, attempting to take her cousin's hands into her own to hold her tenderly and ensure that this is truly what she wants.

Lusine rips herself away from the touch. "You think I'll relapse? Both of you?" Her dark brows knit. "Unbelievable," She breathes out when, instead of replying to her, they simply glance at one another.

"Look, there's no time to stand around and debate," Natasha chimes in, clearly sensing the rising tensions and deciding that this isn't the time or place for a tiff. "We need to get going." She turns to Lusine. "Grab whatever weapons you need and follow us. If Fury says you're in, then you're in."

Numbly, Lusine nods.

"Good," She says. "Now, let's go. We haven't got all day. In fact," she glances down at the sleek, black watch clasped around her wrist, "we've got exactly two hours."

-

"So, we've got an hour and a half left to make sure this bomb doesn't go off." Effortlessly, as always, Steve takes the leading role.

It suits him. He takes it all in his stride as if this is what he's born to do. Lusine watches him command and direct the team, taking a backseat and not being mad that she isn't the one commanding this time.

Maybe her days of leading armies into battles are over at last.

"Lusine," her eyes snap back into focus at the sound of her name in his mouth, "you'll go in and clear the way for us through the back entrance however you can."

"Your wish is my command, Captain," She replies, but her words lack their familiar zest.

Her eyes dip away from him now, finding herself not wanting his attention. Instead, they turn to her palms, clear and coated in illusion. She clenches her fists and a dagger materialises in each, forming into existence in wisps of black and silver magic. The sensation tingles down her arms and wakes the reservoir inside from its slumber.

As the wolf rumbles to life, a hand clamps down on her shoulder.

It's Steve. Same old Steve with that same old expression of concern. Bitterly, she hates it. She doesn't want his pity, nor does she want anyone else's. If she wanted pity, she wouldn't cover herself head to toe with illusions and pretend like she's not constantly looking over her shoulder.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asks, obviously trying to restrain his tender touches in the eye of his co-workers.

Lusine forces her mouth into a polite smile. "Yes," she says, "but don't worry about me. Worry about the mission."

"Alright, but if you feel like you're... you know," he glances over his shoulder for eavesdroppers, "losing control, don't feel like you have to stick around for us. Leaving the scene would be the best thing for you if you feel that way."

Lusine swallows thickly, nodding with her tongue clamped between teeth.

-

The door handle is cold even under her touch as she creaks it open and steps into the previously abandoned factory.

Whoever is in here isn't trying to hide. Already she can hear muffled conversations and the stomp of heavy boots on steel as she makes her way in.

At the unconcealed sound of her approach, a team of four armed guards turn on her and immediately raise their weapons.

Lusine's arms raise into the air and she plasters her winning smile on thick. "Well, this isn't a very warm welcome," She taunts, holding their attention as she dives headfirst into her magic. It rushes up through her and sparks in the ends of her fingers.

Eager to escape her grasp, the magic lurches forwards and invades the minds of the men in front of her before they even have a chance to pull the trigger.

As the power enters them, Lusine is greeted by that familiar tug. The want to wreak havoc where she should not. In a flash, she cuts that power off and the men drop to the floor, crumpled together. The call of the void will never enchant her as it once did ever again. She is immune to its song. Deaf to its cries and its pleas.

After steadying herself with a deep breath, Lusine presses her finger to the coms in her ear and quietly says, "The entrance is clear."

"Great work, Volkov," Natasha's voice rings back.

Steve is the first to enter. She whips around to face him and watches as his eyes land on the four bodies. His expression seems to pull into a frown, and he steps a little closer to them as if he needs a better look.

"They're unconscious," Lusine tells him flatly. "Not dead."

"Maybe you should head back to the jet." Those piercing eyes of blue lift onto her and she almost crumbles under their weight. How could he doubt her now when he's done nothing but back her before? "I don't want you to push it before you're ready."

Lusine has nothing to say. With a nod of her head, she pulls an illusion of one of the armed guards over herself and exits the building, smouldering.

-

1968 words
24.7.19

wow i actually managed to update this look at that!

let me know what you thought! thanks & bye