Good guys don't last.
With a soft look he stared at the cold stones, the memory of a time long gone lingering in the air. Walking across the graveyard, he stroked with rough fingers the words and names of people who had come to pass and where forgotten; prevailing in the earth just by the grace of carved rock. He felt somewhat peaceful in the garden of the dead though it should creep anyone out; he was all alone after all.
A gust of cold wind ran through the tombs, carrying the autumn leafs with every shade from red to yellow, making the blonde solder trigger the hold of his jacket. Winter was just around the corner and the chill was making itself present in the city. Soon, Christmas would make itself present in every corner with tall pines and red, green and white.
He turned around at the sound of tread over stone.
"Oh, hello Frost." He said with a small greeting smile. The kid and his companions had been acquaintances of SHIELD for some time now; they didn't interact much but the legends sure answered their call when help was needed, as did they.
The white haired teen just stared at him -standing tall over the grave of Monica Shoemaker, gripping his staff tightly- the beginnings of a frown present in his brow.
"Is something the matter?" Steve asked. Maybe the Guardians are having trouble with Pitch or someone? He thought, but the boy didn't answer, the frown deepening just a tad more.
Guessing Jack Frost wouldn't answer he turned around and kept walking to find the graves he looked for. It's probably just the way spirits are I guess. A few silent moments went on, Steve ignoring the boy for his part; if he didn't want to talk, then he wasn't going to make the effort.
"You weren't supposed to last so long, you know." Jack stated after some minutes in a monotone voice, if just a little annoyance tainting his tone.
"Excuse me?" Captain America asked with confusion as he turned to look at the boy again. Was that supposed to be an insult? He really didn't get it.
"Good guys aren't supposed to last. That's just how things are." He said as a matter of fact, like his words made everything clear now.
"Who ever told you that, kid?" Steve asked with an amused expression, not yet fully comprehending the idea. The Guardian walked over the gravestones, looking at the Avenger like a wolf would his prey.
"Life… people. It's just how things are." He repeated.
"Stark, Banner, Romanoff… all my friends are good guys and they've last. You guardians have lasted, more time than I dare say. What makes you think what some people say is true?" He asked firmly, determinate to prove the boy wrong for his sake.
Jack shook his head as if he felt sorry for the man's naivety.
"You don't get it, Captain. Of course they're all good guys. But that's not what I meant." He explained, making Rogers raise his eyebrow in confusion. "You see… People like Iron man, Hulk or Black Widow are good guys. As in a person that does something good. People like you are good. As in a person who is good. Do you understand?" Jackson asked like he was a teacher, trying to explain a mat problem to a silly child who had with trouble to learn.
"Not really…" He answered honestly, making the boy in front of him sigh. Jack came closer.
"People like you… people like you think everyone can be good." He said with exasperation. "They think that even if someone is bad they still have some light inside them. They believe that those kinds of persons deserve second chances… That everyone disserves second chances." He looks at Steve to the eyes "Persons that do good are not so easily fooled. They know that not everyone can be saved and that not everyone will take a second chance to redeem themselves. They know that some people are just stuck on the other side of the river, that they just crossed the point of no return… You on the other hand are still naive; someone who is nice and good 'And moon help me I don't know how'. You haven't understood that not everyone can be good." The boy says, looking up at the man with a defiant glare.
"Well I think you're wrong." The Captain answers calmly, comprehending the boy was angry and his temper was not fully under his control. "I do believe that everyone disserves second chances… and that they all can find their way back. There's nothing wrong with that." He says softly, looking calmly at the boy.
"See! Have you heard yourself? It's precisely what I mean. You don't see it, but I do. You live in the thought that everyone can be your kind of good, but the truth is, they can't!"
"Maybe not everyone, but they all deserve a chance."
"Agh! Why don't you get it!? People like us would give our lives just to let someone who deserves to live more the opportunity to actually live. People like you or me would die in the thought that our dead was for the greater good, thinking 'Well… at least they'll have a better life; at least they'll live and see every moment of their lives as something beautiful.' People like us think that after a sacrifice, after dying, everything will turn out for the best. But the truth is that it's not like that. Dying for someone else won't make it better, it doesn't solve anything.
"The truth is that good guys don't last. And when they do, they just have to learn that being that kind of good guy doesn't work; it just hurts. Because their sacrifice was wasted, at least for the ones who mattered the most."
"You speak from experience." Steve points.
"Yes. And experience thought me that being good it's not good enough.
"My father was right, you know? He used to say that good guys don't last, that gentler souls die first. They go first because they are the ones that care the most; they are the ones wiling to do everything in their pat to make everything right… to show people that there is indeed some goodness leaf and not just a fool's belief…"
"Those are wise words your father said… not at all like you make them sound." Argued the blond.
"But is just no use in the end, don't you see Steve? Good guys like you and me aren't supposed to last, and when we do, everything just goes wrong. Because we do die after all." Jack jumps of the grave his stands in and places himself an inch away from the man, looking up with defiant eyes "Because for the ones you left behind, the ones you left in your time, you died. And in the end it's all true once again, good guys don't last. Because for the ones we love we are dead, and for the new world we awake in we are dead, for they don't know who we are. We're just shadows, people who weren't there when their begging started; we might as well be another tomb in the graveyard, just at the back of the garden amongst the oldest stones; covered in twigs and ivy." He says, gesturing around them "For the ones in my time I died, and so it's always true no matter what; good guys don't last. But in the end it seems quite useless, this sacrifice; because the ones you gave your life for throw theirs away, driven mad by the grief of losing the one that they cared about the most, the one that loved them as much as they did. And how would you know Captain? How would you know that your beloved came to move on? That your friends didn't grieve till the end of their days because of your selfless act? That your mother's heart was not broken beyond repair? How do you know that what you did was right? That there was nothing more you could have done to make it better… hmm?" The winter spirit looks down "Such a hypocrite I am…" He spits "Knowing all these things… and I still can't get rid of my naivety… just like you."
"Because deep down you are a good guy… and you believe that everyone can be good…" Steve says softly, looking kindly at the short strange boy in front of him.
"Even the most lost man in the world…"
"And you believe that we all deserve second chances…" Continued the soldier as the boy looks up solemnly.
"No one's the exception." He exhales with tired eyes.
"And that by a selfless act, even one that may const you your own life, you can give people the privilege of having what you could not… a life to live. A life for them to make the most of."
"Yes…" Jack says quietly.
"Because being a good guy doesn't imply just dying before your time, but loving some people so much that your life is suddenly not as important as theirs. Because it implies loving someone so much you would give up anything for them to have everything… without caring one bit about what you will lose… because their happiness and well being is all that could ever matter."
"Yes…" He sighed, taking back a few steps from the man that broke through the walls he thought no one could penetrate. "I've tried so hard… to be… a person who does good things… not someone who is good… I just can't." Jack looked at Steve sadly. "Just a few days ago I thought… that even the darkest person could have light inside them… that they could change if they just… saw that there is so much more… so much goodness… But I was wrong. Some persons are just too far away on the other side of the stream… and the water's to deep to bring them back." He looked at his hands, lost "It almost cost me my life. Even though the guardians warned me about it… I just thought that maybe it would be different with me… I thought that maybe Pitch wasn't so bad.
"You…"
"I tried to give him a second chance… but it almost costs my friends dearly… Somehow, even after the evidence is so clearly in front of me… I can't help but believe that… deep down there still light, trapped inside his darkness. I can't help but care… and caring hurts, you know? It hurts so much…"
"I know… I can't help it too." He says with a warm, sad smile.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He asks with disbelief and a raise eyebrow.
The captain chuckles and places his hand over the slim shoulder of the boy.
"But good guys do not just die young… they see people for what they could have been… for what they can be… for what the really are."
"If only that where true…" Jack says. His eyes staring into the ones of the captain, cobalt blue against crystal blue.
"It's true… At least I believe it's true. That's way I'm still a good guy." He whispered with a smile.
"Then I must be stupid or something 'cause I have no reason to believe it's true."
"Oh, you do. Believe me. You just don't want to admit it." Steve assures him.
"Yeah, you're probably right." He says as his checks turn slightly blue with a blush "I'm so sorry for vomiting my thoughts over you… I… I just couldn't get it out of my head and it had me so angry. Sorry Cap." He apologised sincerely.
"Don't worry." Steve shrugged, hearing the boy sigh loudly one more time.
"So…" Jack says casually, returning to his usual self if not a bit sad "visiting friends n' family?"
"Yeah," The Captain chuckles "I guess you could say that." He starts to walk again but is suddenly stopped by the white haired teen.
"Can-can I join you?" He asks shyly.
"Uhm," Steve is startled by the question, but he doesn't have to think about his answer "of course, yeah."
"Great." Jack smiles brightly, bringing out a merry laugh from the captain. This kid sure knows how to swing modes. He thinks happily surprised. "So, what have you Avengers been up to?" Asks the teen, striding besides the blond "Some secret stuff I'm not allowed to know? Some ingenious plan to save the world from Anthony Stark's waste of money? Or his playboyness?"
"Hahaha. Oh Frost, I think we'll never come up with a plan for that."
"Hey, one's allowed to dreamt, aren't we?"
"What a good dream that'd be." Steve says, still laughing. What was again the 'centre' of this boy? Fun? He sure knows how to do his work. The man thinks happily "And well, to answer your question, I haven't heard much of anyone; not SHILD nor the others…"
"Why's that?" Jack asks curiously "I thought you where like friends or something."
"Well yeah… is just… different. We are friends, but not that close. And I've been on the road for a while, seeing the new world as it is, the things that have changed."
"If they're your friends then you should check on them from time to time" he says with a little frown, flying toward a grave to walk over them once again "I mean, what if smoothing bad had happened to one of them?"
"Well, it would probably be all around the news." Steve concludes after thinking about it.
"And what if it's something secret? Or-or what if something good happened to them?!" Asks the spirit of winter excitedly.
Captain America looks at him bewildered, he had forgotten how much of a child could the boy be; he would've never thought of it after the conversation they had just have. So much he has lived and gone through… after 300 years… and he's still so… naïve. He is puzzled and confused and it's wonderful at the same time that he would've kept so… good… after so long. He chuckled at the thought.
"I've… never really thought of it." He answers truthfully.
"Well I think you should. I don't know you but I don't have a lot of friends, I could count them with my hands if you asked me to, that's why I like to know how are they doing, if they had a nice day or if they're feeling sad. You never know when they could be gone." And Steve can see such sincerity in Jacks words that he wonders why doesn't he care more about his so called friends, and suddenly, they are bout standing in front of a grave.
Sgt. James "Bucky" Barnes
"Is it here?" Jack asks as the Captain stares at the grave.
"Mhm." He murmurs solemnly.
"He was..?"
"My best friend." Steve says with a smile.
"Sergeant James 'Bucky' Barnes. Beloved son and brave friend."
"The braves of them all." He says proudly, Jack smiles at his side.
"Good guy?"
The blond snorts "Good guy? God damn drinker and womanizer I'd say" he laughs happily "One hell of a good guy." He runs his hand over the stone and moves on, Jack following close behind.
"Sara Rogers, loving mother and wife. Joseph Rogers father caring and husband." Jack mumbles as they stop in front a set of two graves, covered in weed and dust.
Steve kneels in the grown, tenderly tearing the plants of his fathers stones, removing the dust with a kerchief he took from his pocket, passing through each letter devotedly.
"Meet Mrs. and Mr. Rogers Jack." He introduced with a warm smile just as he finishes his work.
"Hi Mrs. And Mr. Rogers." He waves with a bright smile. "S'good to meet you formally." He jokes good heartedly making the captain laugh lightly.
They stood there, content in the comfortable silence of an evening of autumn. The wind blowing in their faces and stoking her child's cheek. And right there Steve thinks how sometimes, the wind seems to whisper incomprehensible words, and he is surprised as he looks at Jack, his eyes close as it listening to the gust that circles him. Crystal blue eyes open and they are brittle like a rough diamond and as intense as a ice.
Jack suddenly walks to the other side of Steve and the man wonders what is the boy doing as he kneels on the ground just as the captain had previously. The winter spirit tears the weed that covers the name and he smiles up at Rogers as they read it.
"I think you forgot to shoe me this one."
The man sighs "Captain Steve Grant Rogers."
"Beloved son and selfless soul. And he will never be forgotten." Jack finishes with a smile. "I think you don't give yourself enough credit."
"How did you know it was mine?" He answers with a grin.
"Well, I have a grave too you know… and the wind told me." He adds with a grin of his own. "Mine is quite similar to yours actually."
"Is it?"
"Mhm. You should visit my grave sometime." He jokes "We could talk about the consistency of headstones and the typography. Have some tea and bisques."
"Sure!" Steve laughs.
"Anyway, Gota go Cap. Russia awaits me, the country is screaming for a snow storm." He places his hand over Steve's stone. "I'll… see you 'round I guess." Jack says with a little smile, frost spreading beneath his palm." He looks softly at the man "I think we're not so different after all."
And just like that, the kid disappears in a gust of wind, flying far away to the other side of the world.
"Good bye… Jack." He says softly looking at the empty sky with fluffy clouds, just a trail of snowflakes left behind like smoke leaves a rocket. He lovers his head and gazes at his stone and his eyes widen at the sight. His headstone is covered in beautiful icy patterns but at the base of his grave, the image of flowers plagues it; flowers made of frost and ice. It must've been years since someone had left him flowers in his grave, but there they where, just as fresh as if it where spring. Steve smiles knowingly.
Out of the graveyard he climbs his motorcycle and just before he gets back on the road he takes his phone out and he looks at it thoughtfully. His decision made he searches in his contacts and presses the call button and he waits for the others side to be picked up.
"Hi, Tony Stark, in what can I help you."
"Hello Stark, it's me, Steve Rogers." He answers with a smile, powering his motorcycle.
"Hi there capsicle, to what do I own the pleasure?" Iron man answers with his smug tone but the happiness in his voice at the surprise call is not hidden.
"Nothing really, I just wanted to see how you guys where doing. Everything fine? How's Pepper?" He asks smoothly.
"I'm touched Cap, are you drunk or something? With, forget it. Goody two shoes wouldn't drink enough for that."
"Very funny Stark." He answers sarcastically.
"Always. Anyway, we've been fine, you know, partying all night, posing for the cameras at day…"
And as the Captain let Tony ramble about his awesome life –thinking the man secretly carved for attention or someone to talk to- he thought about were he would go next. He smiled knowingly, there was a little town named Burgess in Pennsylvania, nice quiet place to stay some time; some people said you could spend one hell of a winter there and talked about this lake that was frozen half time of the year.
Yeah, it sounded good to him.
He chuckled as Tony kept talking non stop about the new experiment he and Banner where working on, of what he understood nothing at all. Yeah, it would be good, he could later call Natasha when the playboy had ran out of thins to say, right now he had a long journey ahead of him.
Abril: Well that was LONG. At least for me, I've been working on this thing for some time and I'm glad is over. I really liked the narrative at the beginning, but you tell me.
If something's not clear pleas let me know so.
Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes as I've said before my mother language is NOT English. I did notice that I change the narrative from past to present but… I really don't want to check it. Also I wrote the last three pages just today so I haven't cheeked it, I'll take care of it later, enjoy this in the mean time. It'll probably change a little but I don't think much.
Do any of you celebrate 'El dia de los muertos'? It was yesterday and I had a grate time! Ohm… anyway, have a nice day!