Ginny sat on top of a table in the center of the dining hall, chewing on her thumbnail and watching the guards sidle nervously around the scorched steel that used to be a catwalk.
"Ginny." She turned her head just a shade to look at the slender, olive-skinned man that sat down on the table's long seating bench.
"Hey, Lukas," she replied idly. Not quite a friend but more than an acquaintance, Ginny was used to sharing dinner conversation with the shadow weaver. Lukas scared the guards, as even with the suppressor around his wrist he still seemed to leave rooms a little darker when he walked in.
Lukas tossed his head at the pair of jumpy guards watching over the poorly supervised exercise time in the dining hall. They would have much preferred the security of a guard tower, but it was currently doing a very good impersonation of a smoldering heap of metal. "They're saying it was you or Rodriguez."
"Wasn't either of us - look;" she gestured, tracing the shape of the exposed wires running around the upper perimeter of the room and leading to the shape that was once a guard tower, "see the discoloration in the casings?"
Lukas squinted. "What about it?"
"Electrical short started the fire - I'd bet my dinner on it."
"How'd you know that?" Lukas asked, sounding vaguely impressed.
Ginny shrugged demurely. "Met my husband at trade school. We're both electricians."
"You don't look like an electrician." Lukas scratched at the peeling paint on the table. "You look like a soccer mom."
"I am a soccer mom. Want to see my stretch marks?" Ginny lifted the edge of her blue sensor top and Lukas coughed a laugh.
"Oh-three-oh-two!" a guard barked and Ginny shot to her feet.
It took physical effort not to scratch at her wristband as the guard approached, shock-rod in hand. "Suppressor check."
Ginny held out her wrist for his inspection. "It's working just fine."
"Did I ask you your opinion?" he snapped, still about a foot too far away to properly check that it was functioning. Ginny's powers had never pushed beyond the supressor's limiter, but something about the nature of her abilities gave the guards pause. Some fear of dying in a horrible fire, she guessed.
"Don't you want to check my suppressor?" Lukas asked sweetly.
The guard ignored him. "Don't start with me, seven-three-nine."
"Who's starting anything? Maybe I just like talking to you, Miller." Lukas reached out a hand to caress the guard's shoulder. He just seemed to love playing around, even though it could get him a warning shock if he wasn't careful.
The guard whipped out his tasing rod, the crackle of energy suddenly the only sound in the room. "I will fucking put you down, Russo."
Lukas's expression grew dark, all the casual flirtation turned to outright malice. "You touch me with that thing and it'll be three minutes of hell for you before backup bothers tromping down the hall."
"Are we all friendly?" The little Russian walked up to the conversation with his hands swinging casually at his sides. Two more prisoners walked with him - the only other Russians on the Raft, and they always moved with Ivan Volkov. Ginny hadn't had enough conversations with him to find out what his powers were, but she had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with mental control.
"Everything's just fine here, Mr. Volkov." Ginny almost hoped that Ivan didn't have any powers, but had managed to convince the government that intimidation prowess alone was his superpower.
"That is good. I would hate to see Miller relieved of duty missing fingers." There was nothing about the Russian that was particularly threatening; he was under average height for a man and wasn't made of muscle like the meatheads that followed him around. Faded blue eyes the color of old farmer's denim never seemed to sharpen or grow angry and the wrinkles in his weathered skin formed friendly crow's-feet around his eyes. He'd somehow managed to survive Russia's attempts at creating enhanced-persons with his good humor intact.
"Are you threatening me?" the guard balked at the idea.
The older man didn't respond to aggression. "Of course not. In fact, I just said I would hate to see you lose fingers. What part of that was a threat?" He looked far too comfortable in the blue and gray uniform littered with sensors; like it was an outfit he'd chosen that morning and not mandatory.
The subtlety was lost on the Lieutenant. "I'm shutting down the dining hall."
"That sounds like a strong decision, Miller. I'm sure they'll be promoting you to Captain soon enough." Ivan spoke with the accent of someone who has worked very hard to get rid of the accent of their old country but had failed to properly work out all of the kinks.
The guard wasn't sure what to make of that.
"Why don't you just suck his dick, Ivan?" Lukas drawled as the guard retreated, running relaxed fingers through his long hair.
"Lukas Russo," Ivan turned a disappointed expression on Ginny's friend, "have you ever played a game of chess in your life?"
"I prefer Yahtzee." Lukas gave his suppressor band an irritated wiggle, like trying to unstick a decorative bangle bracelet from the wrong spot on your forearm. It was a commonly shared motion among prisoners of the Raft; they itched unbearably when their inner workings acted against powers.
The three loudspeakers above screeched as they synced up to a guard's walkie. "Disperse, or you will receive a warning shock."
Lukas stood smoothly, pushing back long hair at the temples with both hands. "That's us, darlings."
Ivan rubbed the thumb and first two fingers of his left hand together, like someone testing the texture of salt. He gave Ginny a warm smile as he twitched his suppressor wrist irritably. "Have a pleasant day, Mrs. Ellis."
"You too." Something about the Russian's attitude just drew a respectful tone out of people, and Ginny certainly did not intend to get on his bad side. She'd never seen his bad side, and all evidence pointed to him not having one at all, but she didn't want to find out either way.
She knew there was at least another hour left in their mandated exercise time so GInny decided to take a walk around the big loop.
The drip-drip-drip of water was never-ending. A prison submerged in the sea had no hope of being waterproof forever, so there was always the torturous drip-drip-drip.
The Raft had two loops the prisoners were allowed to wander mostly unattended. The little loop - or inner loop - contained most of the cell units; five or six rooms to a pod that shared something like a central room, but were otherwise locked off from each other when exercise time was over or during lights-out.
Drip-drip-drip. Ginny skirted around a drip, not interested in the slightly greenish liquid oozing from the ceiling panel.
The big loop - or outer loop - was wider and quieter, but you had to run at a dead sprint back to your cell if you accidentally wandered too far from your cell unit and the guards called for a ten-minute lock-up warning. It was the only time you were allowed to run.
Drip-drip-drip. Tap, tap tap. Ginny paused, listening to the odd echo through the metal grating. She craned her neck to see around the gently turning halls of the big loop, distant sparks casting staccato shadows.
Drip-drip-drip. Tap. Tap-zap! The popcorn collection of electric arcs finally combined into a bright flash of light as the circuit overloaded and exploded.
The hall fell into darkness.
One. Two. Three. Four. Ginny counted internally, waiting for the emergency lights to kick on.
Five. Six. Seven - the red emergency lights kicked on and Ginny screamed as a broad figure appeared in front of her. Bad reflexes shot her hands up in front of her face as if that would help at all, and the suppressor on her wrist made her skin tingle fiercely as her powers tried to react for her.
"Mrs. Ellis?" the figure asked, a familiar star-and-stripes shield lowering slightly to reveal a familiar face!
Ginny breathed a heavy sigh of relief, pressing a hand to her frantically beating heart. "Steve! Oh - er, sorry, Captain."
"Steve's fine," he offered a kind smile as he returned the shield to whatever magnetic switch kept it adhered to the harness system on his back. "What are you doing this far out?"
"We're allowed back here," Ginny defended.
"I know that," Steve replied slowly. He seemed to sense her discomfort and changed the subject. "This happen a lot?"
"Brown-outs?" Ginny hesitated. Would she be getting someone in trouble if she was honest? Did she care? "It happens a lot. Every time someone comes or goes, a little seawater gets in and, well…" Ginny gestured widely. "Electricity and water don't mix."
"How long should we expect it to last?"
"Twenty to thirty, maybe? That's about how long it takes them to find, dry, and reset the right breakers."
"I'm glad I ran into you, actually." The Captain reached into a pocket and pulled out three books, a little worn around the edges from being stuffed into a pocket, offering them to Ginny. "I didn't know what you liked so I shopped around a little."
"I honestly thought you would forget immediately," Ginny admitted with an open smile, gratefully accepting the books. She kept her smile plastered firmly as she saw they were a little outside of her usual reading selection - poetry, science fiction, and some short novella. He'd tried, and that meant the world to her.
Ginny flipped through the books, holding them as close as she could reach to one of the dim red lights on the wall. "My god... this stuff is depressing," she said. "If I were somebody else, I think I would still be mentally ill. It is impossible to imagine a color you have not seen."
"Oh - I think that one's mine, actually." Steve smiled apologetically. "Neil Hilborn?"
Ginny checked the cover and he was correct. "All yours, Cap." She surrendered the book and Steve flipped to the poem she had just been reading.
It hurt Ginny a little to look at the Captain. Time-skips notwithstanding, she was probably older than the soldier. He couldn't be more than, what, thirty? Thirty-five at most? Her knees already felt ancient at forty-three, and the cold and damp air of the Raft didn't help much.
As tired as any soldier returning home, the sad politeness just made Ginny want to invite him to her dining table, sit him down between Bobby and Lenore, and let him relax a little. He was a good boy, just like her Bobby. She would bet her dinner he took after his mom, just like her boy.
She returned the favor of changing the subject. "What brings you around to my neck of the woods?"
"Transport. The enhanced made the Secretary nervous so I was asked to assist."
"Don't all of us make them nervous?" Ginny asked curiously.
Steve grinned ruefully. "Let's just say he made them extra-nervous." He lowered his head. "Did they ever let you call your family?"
"Briefly. But, yes." Her husband had cried on the phone. Her daughter hadn't.
Before he even asked the question, Ginny knew from the apologetic look on his face what he was going to ask. "Can I ask - you don't have to answer, but-"
Ginny interrupted, doing her best to keep her tone warm; like when Bobby had broken her grandmother's vase but didn't try to hide it. "I set my family's apartment on fire in my sleep."
"I'm sorry." He sounded earnest. "Was anyone hurt?"
"Just my curtains," Ginny joked. "And my bedroom door. Only cost about a hundred and fifty to fix. So I know what your next question is going to be - what am I doing here, right?"
Steve nodded, smiling apologetically. "I'm that easy to read, am I?"
Ginny shook her head, putting the books into her pocket. "It's everyone's next question."
The lights switched from emergency red to the usual hazy, poorly-cleaned halogens. The Raft's speakers screeched with a warning. "Lock-up in ten. I repeat, lock-up in ten."
"That's me," Ginny tried to say casually, stretching her knees. "Gotta run." She was already losing the baby weight she'd never quite managed to lose after she'd given birth to Lenore, no matter how many diets she'd tried. It turns out incarceration was a pretty effective diet.
"Right, yeah," he agreed, seemingly having forgotten that she was a prisoner here. "Stay safe. I'll get those back from you when I visit again."
"You get something to eat, you hear me? You're looking awful thin." Ginny chided, and Steve laughed; the desired effect. Ginny couldn't make her own situation any better, but she was getting a feeling the Captain was in oddly the same boat. She added, jogging backward, "Just for the record, I prefer historical nonfiction!"
Steve leaned back on the sofa, tilting his head to rest on the back and release a little of the tension that had built in his neck. For all the time he spent sitting on jets, helicopters, and other military transports, all he wanted to do at the end of the day was just sit down. Sit down or punch something. It varied.
Wide windows open to the late summer breeze, the sound of crickets and evening birds provided light chorus for the cheerful conversation rumbling in the kitchen. Vision insisted that he'd prepared the recipe exactly as instructed, while Wanda assured him that she would fix it to make it edible.
Something cold and damp tapped his shoulder, making Steve lift his head. A beer, offered by Tony. "Rough day at the office?"
"You could say that," Steve said, taking the beer. It wouldn't do anything and they both knew it, but the symbolism was appreciated.
Tony cracked open a bottle of water, sitting on the opposite armrest. "I hear they got the venue"
Steve nodded. "Thanks for making that call to the gardens. I know Alice appreciates it."
Tony shrugged it off. "Don't mention it. Pep's been bothering me to donate more to offset our taxes."
The peace lasted a good two minutes. Steve could feel it fade as Tony glanced down at the empty bottle before lobbing it towards a bin.
Tony missed and made a face. "So, did you have fun with the Aztec?"
"Is that what they're calling him?" Something behind Steve's eyes hurt but he resisted the urge to rub at his temples.
"You know the news - love their nicknames." Tony gave Steve an appraising look. "If I ask why you look like someone dropped the Stars and Stripes, will you brood more or less?"
Steve sighed. If he avoided the question Tony would just pry more. "It's not how I thought it'd be. No - it's exactly how I hoped it wouldn't be."
"We don't get to call the shots anymore - we don't have to call the shots anymore," Tony emphasized, "and that's a good thing. A pinch of oversight keeps the…" he paused, considering, "the Ultron away?" He shook his head. "That's definitely not right, but you get the idea."
"But we're still stuck holding the bill." Steve looked at his friend. "Doesn't that bother you?"
Tony stood, shoving one hand in his pocket and pointing at Steve with the other. "I'm gonna get Ross to give you some vacation days. You're looking a little pale - too much time spent in that overgrown submarine."
Steve clenched his hands together. "It's not - Tony, some of them have done nothing at all; just turned up with powers at the wrong time."
Tony appraised him. "Would you rather it be Barnes in there? Or Wanda? What about Alice?"
Steve's brow furrowed as he clenched his hands tighter in anger. "This isn't about them."
"Isn't it?" Tony pressed. "You signed to keep them off the Raft, and now you don't like paying the bill? I hate to break it to you, Cap, but this is how the world works."
Natasha slid between them, setting down a tray of discs that looked mostly like cookies on the coffee table. "Okay, boys; I think that's enough for one night."
"It didn't use to be like this," Steve thought out loud as Tony drifted off towards the kitchen.
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "It's always been like this; you just didn't have to see it."
"Is it naive to hope that we'll reach a point where everything works itself out?" Steve rubbed at his eyes now. "Or are we just going to keep making the same mistakes over and over?"
Natasha made a face. "What would that even look like?
"What would what look like?" Sam asked, climbing over the back of the couch with a bag of chips in one hand.
"World peace," Natasha said.
"Can we talk about something more realistic?" Wanda asked, sitting at the end of the coffee table on a low chair, "like the return of dinosaurs or something?"
Steve had been born into a war. It had gobbled up all the young men of the world and fallen into slumber. It had awoken when he was a man and consumed another offering. Again and again, war and destruction woke and consumed all the happiness in the world, all the good and honorable people.
It always left the world more afraid. None of the lessons that needed to be learned seemed to stick in place no matter how vehemently the survivors declared it was needed.
Steve smiled as his friends laughed over Vision's insistence that dinosaurs could not, in fact, survive peacefully in the current climate with limited appropriate ecosystems and resources.
Natasha made eye contact with Steve, raising an eyebrow with an unspoken question.
Steve shook his head slightly and looked down at his half-drunk beer.
It is impossible to imagine a color you have not seen.
A/N: I absolutely love this chapter and I hope you do too. My husband shooed me into my home office to go write one evening and out of that came Lukas Russo and Ivan Volkov, as well as one other prisoner that I'm going to introduce later.
My outline for this story is so, so long. It touches on a lot of really interesting ideas that I've barely, rarely, or never at all seen in fanfiction. It's this huge beast that's only possible because of all the writing practice I've spent the last five years accumulating.
Hope you all are somewhere safe during these strange times. I love my reviewers! Huffle bibin, cHoCoLaTe-RuM, Flours, XEarthAlchemistx, and nekokairi!
PLEASE REVIEW! OVOH has my full attention at the moment and that's weirdly rare. Reviews make me write faster!