Interaction

I left early that day. Mr. Coulson had a look on his face that said he knew what had happened, but he didn't say anything. When I got home, I set my backpack down at the door before I flopped on my bed. To say that today had gone awry would be an understatement.

"Dear Steve,

I'm sending this email to just you because I think I upset James yesterday. I hope that you will relate the information in this email to him for me.

With the election coming up in two weeks, I will be incredibly busy until I come back next Saturday. Because of this, I'm giving your assignments now.

I'd like for both of you to look up the music (and the culture surrounding that music) of every decade from 1940's onward. Mr. Coulson said that a record player will be arriving tomorrow for my space. You're free to use it, as well as the records in the music archives in the library.

Email me back with what you find whenever you can.

Thank you,
Eliza"

As anticipated, it was an incredibly busy week. Also as anticipated, I didn't hear from anyone at the Avengers facility. It wasn't like I expected to. Whatever had happened, it made James upset, and given his asocial tendencies, he wouldn't be one to come forward and talk about it. After mentally agonizing over it all Sunday, I finally decided that it wasn't my place anyways. Captain Rogers would be the one to help James if he needed it.

Or so I thought.

After a staff meeting on Wednesday morning, I came back to my desk and discovered that my phone had three missed calls from an unknown number. I ignored them, assuming it was someone calling for a political poll. But then it rang again.

I sighed before I picked it up. "Hello?"

"How much work could you possibly— you know what, never mind," Mr. Stark's voice came over the line. "We have a mission tomorrow, and Barnes is hiding away in his room mad at me. So wave your magic wand, we need a sniper asap."

After my initial shock wore off, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was within hearing range. "I'm afraid I left my magic wand at home, Mr. Stark. And I haven't heard from James all week, so I doubt I'd be of much use either."

I heard a large sigh over the line. "Look," Mr. Stark groaned. "I'm sorry, okay? Doesn't mean I don't still hate that article, but we have to get Barnes with us tomorrow. I don't care what it takes, just get it done."

"I'll take a please and thank you," I remarked bluntly.

"You'll get a thank you later. You already got an apology," Mr. Stark stated. I held my breath for a few moments. If he was really that desperate, then it would show.

Then finally, "…please."

I smiled. "I'll do what I can, Mr. Stark."

There was a sharp breath, and then the line cut off. I sat there for a minute, wondering when my life had come to include phone calls from billionaires begging me to cheer up a former assassin. All of this would make for a great story one day, I told myself. I opened up a blank email, my fingers hanging over the keys. I didn't know where to begin, or how to tell him to get better by tomorrow.

Turns out, I didn't have to. An email popped up in my inbox just as I typed the first word.

"Dear Eliza,

I need to speak with you. Please meet me at the cafe on the corner of Broadway and Worth. I will be there at 7pm.

Sincerely,
James"

I turned the corner onto Worth Street at 6:55pm. My heart was racing with anxiety as I pulled out my phone to double check I'd gotten the time and location correct. My focus elsewhere, I didn't notice the man in front of me.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," I yelped, immediately bending down to pick up the spilled items from my purse.

The man smiled and waved a hand before he bent down to help me. "Don't worry about it— happens to all of us."

I laughed. "Yeah…you're right…oh shoot," I mumbled. "Phone cracked." I inspected the crack, a hairline that ran across the entirety of the screen. I glanced up at the man, who also was looking at his phone. "Yours didn't get damaged too, did it?"

He looked up at me. "Oh, no, mine is fine. I wasn't looking where I was going," he admitted.

I nodded understandingly. "Same here. I always worry I'll get lost, so I double check wherever I go."

"Yeah…" he trailed off.

A moment passed awkwardly, and I cleared my throat. "Well, um, anyways, sorry for running into you-"

"-no, no, really, it's fine," he interrupted, already beginning to walk away. "You have a good day."

I raised an eyebrow at his suddenly off putting behavior. "You too!" I called out. The man didn't seem to hear me. With a shrug, I continued my journey to the cafe. It didn't take but two seconds for me to realize why James chose this place. From the looks of it, the cafe was a mom-and-pop run establishment, and the majority of the room was taken up by a giant book shelf.

A quick glance around located James in the back corner, sipping on a cup of coffee as he flipped through a book. My heart rate was up again, but I forced my body to move in his direction. I was a few feet away when he finally looked up.

"You're a minute early," he commented idly.

"And you were even earlier," I returned.

A rueful grin came onto his face. "True."

The waitress came, took my order for tea, and left shortly afterward. We were left listening to the background noise of the cafe.

Finally, I decided to speak. "It's been a rough week, hasn't it?"

James' eyes finally met mine. "Steve tell you?"

"Nope," I shook my head. "Tony Stark did."

There was a curious look in his eyes, so I continued. "Called me three times in a row, and when I finally saw that he was ringing, I picked it up. They need you for that mission tomorrow, James," I insisted. "Whatever has been bothering you, you have to put it aside for now. That doesn't mean not dealing with it, but duty calls."

James' eyes shifted to look out the window. "I know."

My eyes softened. "What is it, James? What's been bothering you?"

He shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his coffee. "I feel…I feel like a burden. All I ever do is cause problems. If it wasn't for me, good people would still be alive. If it wasn't for me, Tony and Steve wouldn't have fought. If it wasn't for me-"

"-Steve would be alone," I interrupted.

James shook his head. "He has Sam-"

"But Sam can't fully understand," I countered. "He was a soldier too, yes, but he's not from the 1940's. He's not Steve's best friend. You are irreplaceable to him, just as you are now on the team." His eyes, full of clouded pain, drifted up to meet mine.

I gave him a half smile. "Besides, you think Tony Stark would call me and apologize if he didn't think the Avengers needed you?"

"He apologized?" James asked.

I nodded. "Yes, he did. He also asked me to wave my magic wand to get you back on the team." James chuckled, causing me to smile. "If you ever feel like a burden, James, then think of what you have contributed. Everyone feels like a burden from time to time— how do you think Dr. Banner feels? Miss Romanov has to go out of her way after every fight to calm him down, right?"

"But it's not out of her way," James corrected "She does it because she…" he trailed off, catching my point.

"Because she cares," I finished for him. "Teammates care about each other. When one falls, the rest help them rise again."

His eyes flickered through multiple emotions, but he nodded after a moment. "I…I think I understand."

"Good," I smiled gently. The waitress came by and dropped off my tea, making our conversation pause for a second. I added some cream and sugar before taking a sip. "So…when's your flight back?"

James fumbled with his watch for a second. "Car's coming at eight, I believe. But I don't want to keep you around waiting, I'm sure you have plenty to do-"

I shook my head. "Not so fast, mister. I need a break from work too, sometimes. Have you done your music research yet?"

An embarrassed look came onto his face. "Well…um…"

"You can't read music in a book, James," I teased.

"I'm aware of that," he shot back hastily. "I've just been busy, you know…"

"Brooding?" I filled in. At the mopey look on his face, I laughed. "Here, let me pull out my earbuds. You can take a listen to a few hits from each decade."

For the next thirty minutes, we traded comments on the music, fashion, and social movements of the last four decades of the twentieth century. When we realized he had fifteen minutes to go, he volunteered to walk me back to my apartment. That night, I fell asleep with a grin on my face, recalling the hilarious moment when James said "wait…the Beatles are a who?"