Chapter 2 up! I hope you enjoy it, and let me know with a review if you want me to continue :)

"She was a woman who made mistakes, who sometimes cried on a Monday morning or at night alone in bed. She was a woman who often became bored with her life and found it hard to get up for work in the morning. She was a woman who sometimes questioned what reason had she to live on this planet. She was a woman who sometimes just got things wrong." Cecelia Ahern, P.S. I love you.

Chapter 2. Are you okay?

New York. October, 2011.

Ginny finished her painting and sighed when she took a look at the clock. It was 3:00 a.m. and she wouldn't be able to sleep.

Her therapist had recommended her to start painting as an alternative to get her feelings out. She had been doing it for about six months and her department was full of pictures in every corner by that moment, specially paintings in blue, green and black. Then, that morning, she had been filled with the sudden urgency to paint Harry and the children for the first time. If she didn't do it, she feared, she would forget their faces. That idea had terrified her, so Ginny had taking the paintbrush and the palette, working frantically until she was done.

By that moment, it was 3:00 a.m. in October, 31. That day, one year ago Harry, James and Albus were killed.

One year ago, her life had been shattered to pieces.

She decided to change into sport clothes and went jogging to the park. She needed the exercise. In fact, she didn't need jogging, she had to run as fast as possible. She needed to be so tired that she wasn't able to think anymore, so she could lie in her bed and stay asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. So she wouldn't wake up until the day was over.

One. Two. Three. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty rounds to the park. Finally she was exhausted enough and decided that, maybe, it was time to go back to her apartment.

However, as she walked home, everything came back to her and Ginny felt the weight of reality in her shoulders.

James. Albus. Her little boys. She missed them terribly. She should be dead, not them.

After she went up all the staircases that took her to her apartment, the guilt crushed her to the ground, and as that day seemed to be the day for first times, she started crying as she hadn't done since she learned about what happened to her family.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

Ginny looked up and through the tears that clouded her eyes, she saw a tall blond man, with clear blue eyes looking at her with concern.

"I… yes, I am… I'm sorry" she said with a weak voice and the unmistakable British accent.

He gave her a hand to help her stand up from the floor and she accepted his help a bit uncomfortable with the situation.

"Thanks. I think… I think I'd better get in."

She opened her door and locked herself again, in that damn place where she could continue crying her heart out.

People suffered all the time, for all kinds of reasons. But when Steve came back to his apartment after running his daily 50 kilometers, and he found that young woman crying in front of her door, that pain got into his skin.

She stood up and crossed the door of the apartment next to his, and Steve could hear her crying behind the thick walls.

Since he had woke up and realized that everything he'd ever had and everything he'd ever dreamed was gone, he hadn't really found anything he cared about. But in that moment, without really understanding his reasons, he cared about that woman crying out that unbearable pain.

He dealt with his own pain every day.

Following an impulse, Steve went and knocked at her door. Once, two times. It took a moment until he stopped hearing the cries and she opened the door.

Her long red hair was a mess, and she had swollen eyes.

He found himself without while staring at her, and sighed.

"These are kind of hard times, aren't they?"

Ginny wasn't sure how they ended up like this, with him making hot tea for both of them while she sat on the kitchen. She was still silent, putting herself together after her breakdown, while watching him moving around the place looking for the cups, the sugar, everything…

When she had opened the door, she had really been ready to be killed. Or maybe that was what she wanted to happen? Nobody ever visited her, so being killed after all wasn't the most absurd idea. It was strange, really, but the man in front of her and his blue eyes and his kind smile… everything about him invited her to trust him.

"Here you have"

"Thank you" she said in a low voice and tried to smile in a vain attempt. "I'm so sorry you found me like that out there, you shouldn't have bothered, really. I don't even know your name."

"Steve Rogers, it's my pleasure to meet you…"

"Ginnevra Potter, although I prefer people to call me Ginny. Nice to meet you, too. And again, thank you for the tea. Today isn't my best day, as you can see" she sighed and then tried to chance the subject. "Actually I had never see you around before, ¿have you been living here for long?"

"A couple of months"

"Oh, I suppose I am not a very kind neighbour. The true is I don't go out a lot."

"I think that is normal" Steve smiled. "This city has… changed a lot"

"So, are you from New York?"

"Well, yes, though I've been out for a long time" more than sixty years, he added silently to himself. "And what brought you to America, ma'am?"

"Starting over, I suppose… or more like taking distance. London had become too much of a burden to me." Images of Harry and the children came back to her, and Ginny shook her head. I wasn't time to let herself down again. "So you calling me ma'am, it makes me feel older I already am" she said jokingly, almost got to laugh.

"I am sorry" she said, a bit uncomfortable.

"Why should you apologize? It is just curious. Specially people here…

Steve changed to subject. Talking with people about New York – or in general, about the people in this world that he didn't fully understand – made him feel nervous.

"You're an artist. I've seen canvas and easels in the living room"

Ginny's face darkened.

"Not really. It's part of my therapy." She noticed Steve's confusion and his questioning gaze. Normally she wouldn't talk to this, not even with his family… it was so strange, but something about Steve made her feel as if he could always be trusted, as if he could even understand her pain, and so she told him "My husband Harry and our two children, James and Albus… they died a year ago. They were murdered."

As soon as the worlds escaped her mouth, Ginny realized she could not stop herself. Those were the words that had been inside all that time, that she had refused to let out during the days and weeks and months of the therapy sessions that Kingsley forced her to take. Those words finally found their way out, and she just couldn't stop.

"Today is been a year, Octuber 31… Harry was late from work, but I though he was just busy as usual… it usually happened in the Ministry." Ginny kept her eyes on her cup of tea. "I was making dinner, and James was playing in his bedroom with Albus. Then a men came in… I never saw his face, he was wearing a mask. Then James came downstairs…" Ginny's voice broke and she stared at Steve, who was just looking at her with sorrow. "He was just six years old, Steve… my boy was just six years old and Albus was only four. Why them? Why didn't they kill me and let me live alone this nightmare? I would have preferred to die with them, seeing I was too weak to save them."

"I'm so, so sorry Ginny. I don't know what to say…" he frowned. "Things like that should never happen. I… I lost my best friend, the woman I loved… my family… but this all happened during the war and in a way, we all were ready to die. I can only imagine how deep your pain must be and how difficult it is…"

Ginny stretched her hand on the table and put her hand on Steve's, staring at him intently. There was something in him… he wasn't like the rest of the muggles… no, he wasn't like the rest of people, muggles or wizards, that lived on Earth. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt that he was someone who could be trusted no matter what. A good person, that rare specie that the world needed so badly.

"Thank you" she said for the fourth time that morning. "I'm sorry about your family and friends. Wars are always horrible. I lost my brother Fred in one."

Ginny yawned. She was really tired, after all the jogging and running, the lack of sleep of the day before, and all the tears she'd shed.

"I think I need to sleep but… if you are interested, I usually go to the park in the afternoons to paint." She smiled. Steve seemed to be a person who needed more of company, just as she did. "You see all kinds of interesting stuff there. We could go and talk for a while. I would like to be friends with you."

For the first time in a very long time, she smiled sincerely. Steve looked at her, to those chocolate brown eyes, and it was as he could see all the broken pieces of her heart, scattered and trying desperately to be put back together. He could see her strength, because despite everything she refused to be swallowed in darkness and tried to stand up again. Even if it was hurting her, there she was trying to live.

Steve thought Ginny Potter was a beautiful woman.