Hello everyone, firstly, this is my very first fic and I'm a horrible writer and my English is just as bad, so please be patient.
Secondly, this very very very small glimpse of my story Predestination/Forevermore (I'm not sure yet) which will be set in 2039 where Steve will Time Travel to.
Thirdly, after writing this I didn't even had the courage to re-read it, so there will be a lottttt of mistakes, just keep this in mind if anyone bothers to read it.
Another thing, this wasn't even a chapter (the actual chapter is still unfinished), it's just the song reminded me of that chapters aftermath so I had to write this. If anyone's interested to read the actual story please pleaseeeeee let me know.
Year 2029
Location: Del Norte, California.
James Roman has always been a light sleeper; otherwise the distant sad piano tune wouldn't have awakened him.
He opened eyes to a blurry vision of his sky parlor room dimly lit by the bedside lamp. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision and tried to get a hold of his surroundings. He was sleeping in a sitting position with his head leaning on the headboard, his copy of 'The Jigsaw Man' by Paul Britton was still open in his lap, Mr. Blankie was drape over his legs and… he was waiting for his mom to return from her first date since his father died.
Well, as far as he knew his parents never really dated but it's all the same.
Nadine Roman aka Natasha Romanoff, the present leader of the Avengers, the most iron willed woman on Earth- for the first time had crumbled under peer pressure and said yes to the date. Or maybe because she can never say no to her son. If you say yes for one date everyone will be off of your back and you will know if you are ready to move on or not. His own words echoed in his head. Not that the idea of someone else getting involved in their small family was very appealing to him yet he did it in the hope that her eyes will start reflecting her happiness again. Even at nine his maturity and logical mind was quite impressive.
And she was home. He checked his clock.
4:17am
So it must be 9:17pm at Amur Oblast where the date was supposed to take place and it seems she have been home for a while, plus the journey time and the detours.
The date ended too early. That would mean…
No. He needed farther investigation before reaching any conclusion.
He sets his book down beside the lamp and skims over to the casement window towards the back. The window opened without making any sound, he made sure none of the windows or the skylights of his enormous but modest L shaped attic bedroom plus library plus gym (dedicated to his acrobatics practice only) plus lab (equipped with the state of art computers and other detective devices) never made any sound. They were his sneak out routs and he really doesn't want to get caught by his Mémé because if she did the lecture that will follow- both for him and his Mom will not be pretty. The attic was also the only room with modern touches (thanks to Uncle Clint) besides the hidden room in the basement. The rest of the two storey house is almost the same as it was built in the mid 19th century.
The melancholic melody flowed into the room instantly before he can fully open the panels. He was greeted with the shadowy view of the creek down below. The majestic trees far ahead were nothing but silhouettes on a gray backdrop. He was hit by a gush of cold wind; a normal person would have been shivering by now instead the breeze put a smile on his young face. The fading stars were obscured by gray cloud forecasting a rainy day ahead. So climbing is canceled but he can still go fishing, unless something more interesting happens.
The music was dancing on the empty foothills but this time they are carrying in some traces of words of a song.
She was singing.
Singing, he knew was a new habit she picked up when he was in her womb as a solution for his restlessness. Which was a daily occurrence, but in his defense- he is not very good at doing nothing, boredom makes him angsty. She used to sing Russian lullaby's while rubbing her round belly, it used to work like magic; he will fall asleep instantaneously. He is not ashamed to admit that even now they work just as well, as the remedy of his nightmares. The piano was a later addition- he was three when she bought that, secondhand but used with utmost care. They used to spend all her free days on the piano singing children's songs, those were his happiest memories.
But there were times when she used to play on her own and those were the times when the sad songs were sung. But even then she makes such a beautiful sight- her red curls gently blowing in the wind, eyes closed in the reminisces, hands running swiftly on the ivory keys. A sight he have only seen through the open windows from outside (the windows always stays open whenever she is playing, she loves to fill the air with music) because in front of him she was the unbreakable dotting mother. Sight, that would have inspired his father to create another painting like the one on their dance studio.
It was one of those songs she is singing right now. Soothing and beautiful, but the lyrics were assorted with heart wrenching pain, longing and something else he couldn't exactly pin down.
There was no doubt who she was singing for and she was singing like his father is sitting right besides her, listening.
C'est la vie, C'est la mort
You and me,
Forevermore.
Let's walk down the road that has no end
Steal away where only angels trade
Heaven or hell or somewhere in between
Cross our heart to take me when you leave
Don't go
Please don't go
Don't go without me.
The last words were lost in her crying. His stomach dropped and every ounce of happiness left him completely. This was a completely new territory, he have never seen or heard his mother cry, maybe on the verge of tears but never downright crying. Her wells froze him into his place, not knowing what to do. He wanted to run to her to comfort her but he already knew that's a bad idea. She will never let him see her tears and like her pains she will hide them inside her too.
As it happens, he can clearly see his mother in his imagination sitting behind the grant black piano on the small bench settled diagonally on the left of the patio door. Her upper body is hunched over the keys, shaking from crying.
She's not ready to move on.
He couldn't deny that a small part of him was happy, the childish part that he won't have to share her with anyone else. But the bigger part, the part wanted to see his mother happy, was breaking with her.
At that moment, he resented his father a little for causing her so much pain, for living her with so many responsibilities- save the Avengers form the Government then lead them against the supervillains, take care of the broken heroes, take care of him and hide him from the World (though Steve didn't knew about his existence) where Hydra was spreading its ugly tentacles everywhere.
His resolve not to cause this type of pain to his future family got a little bit firmer.
And his promise, to never join Avenger's, became as solid as Vibranium.
.
.
.
But even the Vibranium is not indestructible. Right?