This is the sequel to The Build Up, and I suggest you give it a read-through (even a skim-through would work) before reading this one. I hope you enjoy it, let me know how you like it! It feels so good to finally be able to share this with you, because I've been waiting a while.


Why are people so worried about time? You're getting everything done at once, or you're procrastinating. You're rushing to get ready for the party, or you're showing up ten minutes late. You're either planning your entire life around the digits on a clock, or… you're not.

Am I supposed to measure my life in time? In minutes and hours? In how long I've been alive? Or should I be measuring my life in what really matters? Like the smell of Steve cooking breakfast in the mornings, and inside jokes. How many episodes of Gilmore Girls I can watch in a day without being disturbed, or the taste of my grandmother's apple pie. Should I measure my life in old mix CDs, and cups of coffee before bed? What about movie nights, Bridget Jones quotes, and watching the sunset?

That makes more sense… to measure it in memories.

The pen hesitated on the paper, waiting for the next line of words to pop into the mind of the writer. Emma clicked it's end a few times, tapping it on the page of her leather-bound journal; the one Steve had bought her for her birthday last year. He said, 'instead of keeping it to yourself', before handing her the gift wrapped in a sparkly, pink paper.

It had been roughly eight months since, before she finally cracked the spine and opened it. She had never written in a journal before, never put her thoughts into words that she didn't speak to herself. But before long, she was jotting down all of the things she didn't want to forget; even if it was just a little thing, like 'Wanda really enjoys watching Friends', and she would scribble it in the corner of a page she had already filled up.

Stuck in between the pages were the pictures of her friends. After investing in an old Polaroid camera, Emma became obsessed with capturing the moments she wanted to last forever. And even sometimes the ones that didn't make sense, like a single picture of Clint and Nat in a heated discussion about which weapon was better; his bow or her electrifying stingers. Her favorite one, however, was a picture of a very upset Tony after Thor had accidentally sat Moljinar down on Tony's favorite suit jacket. The giant pout on the billionaire's face, after he had ripped his jacket while trying to pull it from underneath the unwavering hammer was priceless.

She closed the pen inside of the journal and stood up from the couch, moving from the common room to the kitchen. Vision was playing a game of chess with himself, he had asked her if she wanted to learn, but she was certain that trying to play a game with Mr. Know-It-All, would be like watching paint dry. Watching paint dry while playing chess. She didn't even blink before turning him down. He looked up at her from his place at the island, studying her as she moved through the cupboards.

"There is no more Cinnamon Toast Crunch." He told her without her even needing to ask. "I believe Captain Rogers finished off the rest this morning."

Emma closed the cabinet, her forehead hitting the wood with a soft thud. "There was more than half a box left!" She complained at her friend's bottomless stomach, silently cursing him in her head without thinking that Vision could hear every word.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Natasha were all on a mission in Nigeria. They had left that morning, and there was no telling when they'd be back. The headquarters had been eerily silent since, and the young girl was becoming frighteningly more restless with each passing second. Her legs craved to be stretched, and her fingers fidgeted for something to keep them occupied.

After settling on a bowl of Bran Flakes- which would not have been first, second, or third choice- Emma decided to head to the gym; there was a punching bag waiting for her with her name on it. Every single day she spent hours working on her hand-to-hand combat; recruiting whoever was available to become her sparring partner. She was tired of feeling like a rookie among a team of well-seasoned veterans.

It didn't help that she still couldn't control her outbursts.

After Wanda suggested that her body was like a battery that needed to be charged, controlling and hiding her ability became harder than ever. She would do something as simple as touch the coffee pot, and suddenly she'd feel her palm start to itch; and not long after a blast of bright light would expel from the center of her hand. Every time she thought about the energetic connection, her mind would send the signal to her hands to propel a luminescent dagger into the air.

And it was nearly impossible not to think about it.

Vision knew, because like Wanda, Vision could read minds. And because he also knew that Emma was keeping it a secret from the team, out of respect and maybe even friendship, he kept it a secret as well. During many sleepless nights, she would sneak to the roof of the building, and just concentrate on creating little orbs of light. She'd sit indian-style under the stars, pulling energy from whatever was around her, and spew out thousands of tiny lights; like fireflies in the summer air.

After she bruised her knuckles on the punching bag, and ran ten laps around the track, and even lifted weights- which she hated more than anything- she headed off towards the showers. When she was finished washing off her morning workout, she joined Vision- and now Rhodey- in the common room. They were watching the news footage of their teammates in Nigeria.

"Hey Rhodes," she called as she plopped down on the couch opposite him. Her hair was still damp from the shower as she ran a towel through it.

"What's up Short-Stack?" He asked, giving her a nod without taking his eyes from the television.

Emma moved her eyes to the screen as well, the giant headline scrolling on repeat along the bottom caught her attention: 'AVENGERS OR TERRORISTS'. Her heart sank as the news anchor called her friends murderers, Wanda in particular.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Wanda tried to control an explosion that would have killed both her and Captain Rogers, and dozens of Nigerian civilians. Instead it killed eleven Wakandans that had traveled there on an outreach mission, not to mention those severely injured. The number of deaths is sure to rise." Vision replied to the point.

She sighed, letting her head drop into her hands as she dug at her eyes with the heels of her palms. "This, after what happened the last time we went after Rumlow six months ago, is not going to go over well. We were tyrants then, and now we're murderers."

"Technically it's just Wanda," Rhodey piped in. Emma shot him a look that had him regretting the words that had just come from his mouth.

When the team returned, there wasn't a single smiling face. She had jolted from the couch as soon as Steve stepped through the front doors and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was happy to see her, but he wasn't happy. They completed the mission, but they also failed. Steve's rule to protect the people at all cost was the main priority of every mission they embarked on. She could see in his eyes just how disappointed he was in himself.

The days dragged on, the mood in the facility darker than ever. Steve spent his time beating the sand out of countless punching bags, and Wanda kept to herself in her room. Each time Emma went to knock, she could hear the TV replaying the news footage from that day in Lagos; another reporter with their harsh words. So she gave her time, just like Wanda had given Emma time after Sokovia.

She spent her time with Sam, who was hardly ever phased by anything, and always tried to keep the mood light. His competitive nature made for some great game nights, and a lot of races around the track. He even let her try on his wings, once, but swore never again after she almost crashed herself into a tree. A polaroid of that moment was definitely taken, and shoved into her journal with the caption, 'NEVER AGAIN'.

Things had seemed to be getting back to normal until the entire team received an email; the subject line, 'Conference Room- twenty minutes'. Emma was sitting at the island, in her pajamas and hair in a messy bun when she read Tony's message. She cursed him for not giving her more notice. Twenty minutes was a short amount of time. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night, and was nursing an awful headache.

But she jumped out of her seat nonetheless and headed to her room.

"What's this about?" She asked Sam as she passed his room and walked into hers. His door was open, and he sat at the foot of his bed, phone in hand.

"Who knows." He replied, obviously annoyed. He had plans today, and Tony was unknowingly ruining them. "Who gives a twenty minute notice?" She could hear him scoff.

"That's what I'd like to know." She replied as she pulled out fresh clothes from her closet.

She was five minutes late, and wasn't pleased to know that the conference hadn't started without her. Tony rolled his eyes as she entered the room; makeup applied, hair done, and wearing her best business casual wear. Embarrassed, she shrunk into a seat at the table next to Steve. He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Five years ago," Secretary Ross began. "I had a heart attack." He held his hands over his shoulders as if he was about to swing at an imaginary golf ball. "I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. It turned out it was the best round of my life, because after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something that forty years in the army never taught me. Prospective."

Emma furrowed her brows as she shot a glance over at Sam who looked equally confused as to how this man's heart attack was the least bit relevant.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt." He continued. "You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives. But while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word vigilantes."

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Nat asked with a ghost of a smirk on her face.

"How about dangerous?" He answered, obviously not in the mood for her attitude. "What would you call a group of U.S based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders, and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?"

The screen behind him came to life with images of New York City, in the first Avengers battle against Loki. Emma had seen the footage, and was unimpressed that it was brought up to make a case against them. She wasn't there, she was still moping around in Luray, Virginia. But she knew that her friends did everything possible to ensure there were the least amount of civilian casualties possible. Tony even flew a bomb through a hole in the sky, into space, without knowing if he would live to see the next day.

Videos of Washington D.C played after, showing the destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D after government officials, sworn to protect this country, unleashed a program that would kill thousands of people just because they were afraid of what they could do. Those people included her entire team. Her heart tightened at the footage of her birth city being shrouded in fire and destruction, but it was still unavoidable. If not for Sam and Steve, and Natasha, the impact would have been much more devastating.

And then her eyes widened as the screen shuffled to images of Sokovia. She glanced to Wanda, whose eyes were fixed on the screen. She didn't have an excuse for this one. That was on them, she knew it. They all knew it. She was there as Tony singlehandedly created a robot terrorist who wanted to destroy the human race as they knew it. But they found a way to stop it. They found a way to reduce the number of deaths, and save the world once again.

Emma was fed up with this play. After the videos of Lagos played, she'd had enough. She wanted to stand up for her team, give this man a piece of her mind. But her legs were frozen in place, a red mist wrapping around them keeping them glued to her chair. She looked up at Wanda who slowly shook her head, warning her not to do what she was thinking.

"Okay," Steve said. "That's enough."

"For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision." The Secretary stated. "That's an arrangement that the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But, I think we have a solution." His assistant handed him a thick book, and he dropped it to the table in front of Wanda. "The Sokovia Accords, approved by one-hundred and seventeen countries. It states that the Avengers should no longer be a private organization. Instead they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

Emma looked at the front cover of the book and slid it straight over to Steve. He glanced up at her and took a deep breath. "The Avengers were formed to make the world a better place. I feel we've done that."

She nodded slightly at his comment, letting her know she agreed with him.

"Tell me, Captain. Do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" Secretary Ross asked. "If I misplaced a couple thirty mega-ton nukes, you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise, reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground."

"So there are contingencies?" Rhodes asked.

"Three days from now the U.N meets in Vienna to ratify the accords. So talk it over."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like," Natasha asked Ross before he left.

"Then you retire." He replied rather simply before he and his assistant exited the room.

Emma kept her eyes on Steve; wondering what he was going to do next.

There was no question, no doubt, not even a hint of a doubt in her mind what she was going to do. She'd follow Steve through Hell, if he thought the people of Hell needed saving. He would most likely be right about it, too. It wasn't just because he was her best friend, it was because she believed in him. She placed her hope in him. And so far, there was nothing Captain America had done to prove to her that she was wrong in doing so.

As her friends bickered in the conference room, Emma saw herself out, moving to sit in the kitchen instead. She carded her hands through her hair and rubbed her temples. Her headache was finally starting to disappear and the last thing she wanted to do was be caught in the middle of a heated debate on whether or not they should sign that stupid book.

"What do you think, kid?" Tony entered the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island. He leaned his elbows on the counter top and stared right at her, making her shift in his brown-eyes gaze.

"I think I need to know more before I make a decision like that," she answered rather honestly. "But right now, I have a migraine, and I don't feel like thinking. I'm neutral, until further notice."

He chuckled, "I can deal with neutral, for now."

"Do you mind if I go and take a nap?" She asked him, hopping off of her stool and grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

He shook his head and she smiled at him, sensing that he had a lot on his mind. From her bedroom she could hear them arguing on the floor above her. That was at least until Steve stormed past her bedroom door, and down the hall to his own room. She sat up in her bed as she listened to him slam open his door.

Emma crawled out of bed, following the sounds of drawers opening and closing. When she came into Steve's threshold she saw him fervently packing a suitcase. Her eyebrows shifted, coming together at the center of her forehead.

"What's going on?" She asked him. When he met her gaze, she could see the red in his eyes. He had been crying. "Steve, what's wrong?"

"It's Peggy." He replied, voice breaking with each syllable. "I'm going to London. I'll call you when I get there. I'll be back in a few days." He zipped up his baggage and looked at her, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Please, don't let them talk you into doing anything stupid."

Her head nodded, and Steve left her standing in the doorway, jogging down the hallway towards the elevator. She swallowed the lump in her throat, as she watched him. The look in his eyes after having just lost Peggy made her want to cry, and she never even met the woman.

After a few moments, Emma trudged back to her bed. She plopped down on her covers and pulled a pillow over her head to shield herself from the sunlight spilling in through the windows. It didn't take long before she was asleep.


All things considered, I thought it was a decent first chapter. What'd you guys think?

The inspiring playlist:

1. Go Easy Little Doves, I'll Be Fine - Brooke Waggoner

2. Strange Times - The Black Keys

3. Consequences - Henry Jackman

Reviews are appreciated and encouraged. They fuel me.