seventeen
"is this what my life has led to?"
-

Lusine has been left alone all day. After Olea, followed by a reluctant Florian, left their apartment, she's hardly moved since sunrise. Only leaving the chair to relieve herself, or to get food or water, or to find a book to read to distract herself from the spiralling thoughts that drag her further and further down into its depths.

The longer she sits there, the more she finds that she returns to herself.

The solitude is enough to give her room to breathe. To find her feet again. Realising that the dreams and nightmares are just that: dreams and nightmares. No matter how real they feel, no matter how they jolt her from sleep, they aren't real. They're remnants of trauma. Ghosts of her past come back to scare her into relapse.

The conjuring of the void to force her to come crawling back to its embrace of protection as if she needs it anymore only for it to clamp down hard, to never let her go again, and never let her have control of her own body ever again.

But she will always do everything in her power to prevent that happening ever again.

She's already lost so much of herself to the greed of the void and she will not lose an inch more.

After her day of rest and relaxation, Lusine at last pulls herself from the armchair and decides to venture out into the eve.

Much like the morning, the evening is cool. When she exists the apartment building, the breeze rushes to greet her, brushes against her like a cat to its companion. Soft and tender. Welcoming and yet awakening with its chill.

All at once, she is startingly alive.

Lusine wanders all the way to Steve's apartment, intending to shed some light on the situation beyond the little she'd shared when he'd last met her as a reduced shell of herself. It's the most he deserves. He apologised and insisted that he does trust her, but sometimes just hearing it isn't enough. Sometimes a person needs to see it to believe it.

But maybe explaining herself more clearly now she's calmer is at least one step in that direction.

She knocks on the door. There's no answer. Again, she knocks. But, again, there's no answer. When she knocks for the third time, she hits the wood much harder. Thudding the base of her fist into the wood several times. Even after that, there's no answer.

"He's not in," A feminine voice from behind tells her.

Lusine whips around. "Oh," She says to, who she's pretty sure is, Sharon. "Do you know when he'll be back?" She asks, though she's not sure why this woman would know, but the question's already out.

"He shouldn't be long," Sharon says, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Do you want to come in and wait with me?" She gestures with a thumb over her shoulder into her open apartment.

"Um, sure," She agrees and follows the blonde stranger into her apartment, certain that, if things turn sour, however unlikely that is, she will be able to handle her.

The flat is a lot more lived in than Steve's looks. More cosy and homely with half-used candles, coffee-table books, and photo frames around the place capturing happy moments in time.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Sharon asks, smiling sweetly. "I've got wine."

For the first time in her life, Lusine's stomach churns at the sight of her infamously favourite drink.

"Oh, no, thank you," She says, words blurting out. "Just water will be fine."

Drinks in hand, they take a seat at the small, wooden round table and, not being able to contain the curiosity anymore, Lusine asks, "So, do you know where he went?"

"Who? Steve?"

"Who else?" Lusine bites before she can reign herself back in from the old habit.

Sharon sets down her drink, unfazed. "He's visiting an old friend."

"An old friend?" She frowns, glancing down into her half-empty glass.

"That's what I said." Suddenly, the kindness freezes over into something much more hostile. Something Lusine is much more able to handle. In true spirit of herself, she rises to the challenge.

"Well, he's never mentioned an 'old friend' before. Are you sure that's where he is?" She lifts her chin, quirking a dark brow at the woman sat across from her, arms folded across her chest as if Lusine was an invader into her home, not an invited guest.

"Yes, I'm sure," Sharon replies rather firmly. More firmly than perhaps she intended to because Lusine watches her reel herself back in and put up the facades once again. There's something about this woman that doesn't add up. "I saw him before he left. He seemed in a hurry and didn't say much, but I'm sure that's where he said he was going."

"Right, well," Lusine gets to her feet. "You've been a great hostess, but it's time I got going."

Sharon stands. "Aren't you going to wait until he comes back?"

"No," She replies and plasters a sickly-sweet smile on her mouth. Sweet enough to sicken the stomach. To turn away bees and hummingbirds alike. "But since you seem to be in the know about his where-abouts, why don't you tell him I called by?"

"Of course," She says, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears, suddenly uneasy as if she's realised quite how much she's irritated her. As if that prospect unnerves her. "Let me walk you out."

-

The next morning, Lusine wakes more refreshed than she's been in a long while. Again, she sits in the armchair to watch the morning in all its glory with a bagel and a mug of steaming tea, joined by Florian, who sits in silence, but is a companion, nonetheless.

He doesn't appear refreshed in any sense of the word. Bags hang under his eyes. His hair is a bird's nest. His skin is pale.

Despite this plain fatigue, the boy has a dozen moods for each day. One moment he's calms as he is now, other's he is angry at everything the world has to offer and more, the next he's excited for those same offerings, eager to learn more. Eager to never be that boy who froze in fear ever again. Determined.

Always determined.

And, in that determination, Lusine sees herself.

Sees that self who is trying with every breath not to fade away. Not to lose themselves to the chorus of the life they've found themselves thrust into, sinking in the deep end, desperately trying to tread water and craning their necks for air.

And all of that is why he remains. Why she gave him this chance to become an ally, as he chose in the midst of the chaos, and not to follow in the footsteps of his brother. Not to rest in an early grave. He is young. He has not yet lived.

She has had many chances to live.

Just as she has had many chances to die.

They walk with one another to the headquarters. This time with a little small talk. Ponderings about what to eat for dinner, what the weather will be like tomorrow, and other unimportant topics that they'll forget all about the moment they leave one another's company.

When they enter the training room, they are distant once more.

Florian reconnects with the few friends he's managed to make without scaring off with his undying bitterness. Greeting them warmly. Lusine is glad to see he likes it here. That he doesn't regret betraying his brother's dying wish to save himself, to flee with Olea to Asgard, to turn to the side branded traitors.

The class passes smoothly. Much more streamlined than they'd been to begin with. There has grown to be an understanding between herself and her students. Bordering on respect, she's thankful that they don't recoil at her instructions as they once did. As if they've finally grasped that she's here to help, not to torture and kill like the legends before her speak of.

Once, Agent Mills had asked her if she knew of the mythology, particularly that written about her. She hadn't. Mills had no qualms in asking whether it's actually true that she rode into battle with just her brother at her side and returned victorious. Lusine had no qualms in confirming the truth, even as it stung to remember the brother she'd lost.

Today, had come in grinning ear to ear and waved a happy hello to Lusine, which she casually returned, though the act warmed her dearly.

That grin is soon wiped from her face when Lusine tells the group that today is a stamina day. A day to run until they can't move another inch.

Mills huffs and complains, but she runs, and she runs further than she's ever run before.

When she slumps back against the wall, guzzling water, Lusine simply walks over and pats her on the shoulder. "Good job, Agent Mills. That's a personal best."

"Thanks," She gasps out, chest heaving.

When the class comes to an end, all of the trainees file out, but Agent Mills hangs back.

"Is something the matter, Agent Mills?" She asks, already beginning to bandage her own hands for a session of her own training.

"No. Well, yes, but not really." She winds her hands together, glancing down at her feet.

"I'm all ears," Lusine says, moving onto her second hand.

Mills chews on her bottom lip and then suddenly looks up, bright eyed. "Do you think I'll ever be good enough to go out into the field?"

The question is soft in the air between them, but it brings Lusine's attention to a startling intensity.

"Of course. This is some of the most rigorous training. This is the training I give, or gave, to my own legion of soldiers. Not only that, but you work hard. Harder than some of the other agents, that's for damn sure."

All of a sudden, the agents eyes fill with tears. Glistening right there as if she's never been praised in her whole life. As if this approval, this confidence is all she's ever been waiting for.

"Thank you," She manages to breathe out, clearly overwhelmed. "That means a lot to me. Thank you."

"You should start believing in yourself," Lusine tells her, warmly and yet not without a firm tone. "You're going to do a lot of good in this world. Trust me."

Mills is nodding, unable to speak through the tightness of her throat.

"Now, get going," She says, gesturing to the door with her bound hand. "You should get some rest."

"Thank you," She says again as if that's all she's capable of saying anymore.

Lusine nods her head once and turns away, listening to the agent depart and the click of the shutting door.

The moment she's wrapped her other hand, the door clicks open once again. Just from the footfall, she knows her visitor and steels herself before she turns to face him.

All at once, she takes in the tentativeness of his appearance and attempts to reassure him with a gentle smile.

"Have you come to help me with my training?" She asks him jestingly, soothing his worries. Immediately, his shoulders settle, and his expression relaxes.

"If you'll have me," Steve replies, taking this as his cue to cross the room to her. When he takes her hands, she really holds him this time. Not just letting her fingers rest. No, she grips him tight and looks right up into him. "Lusine, I'm sor—"

"You don't need to apologise anymore," She tells him quietly, her head tilts to the side with the arrival of another smile just for him. "I already forgave you."

"Well, that's... that's great," He says, finding himself unable to do much more than smile.

Now she's grinning, brimming with mischief. Her hands pull away only for her to loop her arms over his shoulders, stepping a lot closer. "Did you think I'd make you grovel?" Lusine asks, her fingers snaking into his hair. "Because you can grovel if you'd like."

"Oh?" His brows raise, but the amusement is undeniable.

Her body flares when his hands come to rest on her hips.

"Bring me tea in the mornings, cook me food, brush my hair," She lists off, shrugging her shoulders. "You know, the usual."

"I'm sure I can manage that," Steve replies, his thumbs sliding a in a rhythm up and down against her.

"In all seriousness, you do understand why I was angry with you, don't you?"

"Yes. You felt doubted after all the confidence I'd told you I have. I knew you'd be able to keep control; I just know that using your magic can drain you a lot more than it used to." Unconsciously, he pulls her a littler closer. So close that she can smell the freshness of his cologne. A scent she'll never be over. "You didn't see yourself after you shared your memory with Natasha. You were awake, but you weren't there. You were unresponsive. Distant. You could barely walk. Olea and Florian had to help you all the way home and care for you while you... returned to yourself."

This time, Lusine listens to his every word and understands his worry for what is really was: care. It was care, not mistrust. Not doubt. If only she'd stopped to listen rather than cutting him off every time he tried to explain. If only. Then they never would've fallen out in the first place.

"I'm sorry that I didn't listen to or trust you," Lusine apologises quietly, not wanting the words to shatter the moment between them. As if it will bring it to a blistering end.

"It's okay," He says, kissing her shortly as if to assure her further. "It's all okay."

-

2314 words
8.8.19

spoiler: everything is not okay

the cracks are beginning to show and im scared for them oops