White hot, crushing pain. Little existed outside of the burning pain tearing a gash in her face. She was hardly aware of the swelling of her eye, the tears on her cheeks, or the mucus running from her nose. The sting in her palm from repeatedly slapping her face was nowhere on her radar. She stumbled slightly in her pacing, but pressed on, her body compelled to keep moving. Was there anything before this pain? Would there be anything after it? Was it going to end? God, please just let it end.

She had no idea how much time passed, but finally, the pain did end. Harper plodded over to the couch, toes catching on the carpet. She collapsed onto it and weakly pulled the blanket off the back of the couch over her spent body. While her awareness was still narrowed, there was one thing glaring at her – a striking absence. There were no strong arms around her, supporting her sagging form. No low, gentle voice whispering sweet words in her ears, telling her that everything would be okay. No sturdy shoulder to press her face into to surround herself with the smell of patchouli and cotton. No reassurance that she didn't have to face this alone.

Sobs racked her worn body anew, and Harper hadn't the energy to reel in her sorrow. She missed James every day, but was largely able to push on. She had no choice. There were balls finally rolling in her life and she hadn't worked so hard, suffered so much, to not keep them rolling. But now, with the most difficult aspect of her existence bearing down on her, she had never felt more defenseless or defeated.

How selfish can I be? The brunette berated herself, body still shaking and tears still flowing. She had no idea what it had been like for James, making the difficult decision to once again lock himself away to keep the world safe. What had it been like, accepting the fact that his life was going to be put on hold yet again, that his happiness and freedom couldn't outweigh the lives of others? Had he been alone? Afraid? And here she was, crying because he wasn't there to provide her with comfort.

It was with most of the strength left in her body that she picked up the little burner phone he had given her months ago in Bucharest. She had asked Steve if he still had its twin, and the blond had confirmed that it was left with his effects wherever he had been taken. Numerous times since they parted ways, she had typed out a message, hoping that when he emerged from cryofreeze that he would feel some sense of comfort, knowing he'd always be able to return to her.

Harper: Hey, hun. Me again, of course. I'll admit that I'm having a tough day. I don't know how I ever handled the clusters without you. I hope you've been alright. I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you, though I'm positive you wouldn't have wanted me there for this particular decision you made. I don't want to part ways like this again, if it can be helped. And if you still want me, obviously. I love you more than I could ever hope to express in a shitty text message, and I hope I can show you in person soon.

"Look at you," Harper swooned, adjusting the new red bow tie around Aslan's neck. It was swallowed immediately by his mane. The brunette gently combed her fingers through the fluff, parting it so that the red fabric would at least peek out.

To his credit, the old mammal simply sat and took the primping and attention. He was well rewarded with a fond head scratch and several salmon flavored treats. That done, the orange creature scampered away to his water bowl where he would surely dribble water all over himself and his new accessory.

Harper watched him go with a small smile before turning back to the true task at hand. She sat on the floor between her couch and coffee table, a mindless show playing on the television and the table laden with notebooks and case files. With a weariness befit an overworked graduate student, she dragged her laptop toward her. Her fingertips deftly awoke the screen and she couldn't help but smile through her fatigue. Her screensaver was one of the very few photos she had of herself and James. He had never been one for pictures, which now made perfect sense, but which at the time Harper had simply appreciated because it matched her own distaste for the spotlight. This photo he had taken on a simple night in. They were seated hip to hip, legs stretched out beneath the coffee table as they ate dinner and watched some trashy reality dating show.

"How on earth do these people get so much time off work? And what do they all do that they can all afford such nice clothes?" Harper had asked, annoyed. "I mean, jeez, these women are all fuckin' beautiful, they could at least be dressed like average people to balance it out a little bit."

"It's easy to be attractive in fancy clothes and with support of a professional hair and makeup team. It's better to be beautiful in pajamas after a long, stressful day of busting ass for other people," James had responded easily.

She had felt his stare on her profile and had flushed, ducking behind a few uncontained wisps of hair to hide from his gaze. "Shush, I don't compare."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. You easily outshine them."

And then, to her surprise, there were lips on her cheek and a front-facing camera on a cellphone before her. The picture had actually been adorable, to her chagrin. Somehow, she did look cute with her dark hair piled atop her head and her baggy V-neck slipping off one of her shoulders. Her eyes had widened slightly at his sudden action, but she couldn't help but love the blush that dusted across her cheeks, originating from the point where his lips made contact. And then James – her wonderful James – with his shoulder length dark hair, light spattering of scruff, and his eyes, crinkled at the sides with the laugh he was clearly suppressing at her reaction. He was so beautiful, so happy, and that's what made the photo one of her favorites.

With renewed vigor, she logged into her computer and began working away at her case notes.

Christmas was a jovial affair, clouded only by the absence of the person she most wanted to spend it with. Her family clearly knew of her melancholy and tried their best to be as cheery and bright as they could be. And she enjoyed her time with them, truly, since it was the first Christmas she had spent at home in years. But she couldn't quite forget the fact that if things had turned out differently, she could have brought James into the folds of her family. He could have been nestled beside her on the loveseat in her parents' living room, a blanket over them to hide their clasped hands. Jordan and Natalie could have fawned over him in person, would have been able to make him uncomfortable with their declarations that his body was even more impressive in person than on FaceTime. Her mother could have fawned over him, pushing thirds and fourths on him at every meal and asking him gently about the holidays back in his time. Her father could have made several uncomfortable jokes about the futility of trying to threaten him over breaking her heart, to which James surely would have replied with all seriousness that would never do such a thing. Her grandmother could have engaged him in talks about music they had surely both listened to. James would have enjoyed the array of pies her Uncle Mitchel baked, revealing where she had learned her baking skills. And then they would have returned to her apartment for a delicious romp in the sheets, ending the night the way they should have the year previous.

Harper couldn't help but feel disappointed, too, on New Year's Eve. On the heels of their fight the year before, that holiday had been rather strained and subdued. She had wanted a redo, a chance to shower him with finger foods and to poke at all of the performances airing on television. She had wanted that ball drop kiss. It was sort of a cliché, maudlin thing to be upset over, but it couldn't be helped. Experiences that others her age took for granted as typical were new to her, and she just wanted to enjoy them. Really, she just wanted to enjoy him again.

It wasn't as if her life had stopped, however. In all truthfulness, she was busier than ever with classes and practicum work. It was a good kind of busy – she finally felt like her life was back on track. The three years she spent feeling stuck and wasting time had been resolved, and she was truly glad to be back in Boston. Someday she'd love to do more travelling, maybe live in other places, but it was indescribably wonderful to be back in her city after feeling so isolated and trapped in Bucharest. She thought fondly that the only positive of James's absence from her life is that she was safe from the heckling that would be directed at both of them should he slip into his Brooklyn accent in public. He didn't do it often – in fact, normally it was only in private when he was being particularly charming or filthy – but it did happen. A Brooklyn boy may not always fare too well in Beantown.

"Come on, Harper," Kat begged, "you've gotta get it."

"I don't know," Harper muttered, lower lip puckering slightly as she continued to contemplate her reflection. The two were jammed into a dressing room, going through a slew of items the former had picked out for the latter. "It feels like a lot of skin."

Kat groaned audibly and complained, "You're such a prude! Fine, try this one."

Harper held in a huff of annoyance, shedding the strappy number she had just donned for the next thing being handed to her. She couldn't quite hold back all of her annoyance, however, and mentioned, "This is why I never want to go shopping with you."

"Yeah, heaven forbid you ever be on trend."

"Heaven forbid you accept that I don't like my body on display."

"Come on, girl, you've got curves for days! And you're clearly hot enough to snag a guy with the most slammin' bod I've ever seen."

The young woman sighed and muttered, "Kat, I don't want to talk about James right now."

Sobering, the slim brunette frowned. "Sorry. I know you miss him."

Harper hummed her agreement before turning away from her reflection. "I hate this one. I look way heavier than I am."

Kat didn't even argue as the romper she had selected was hastily shed and tossed into the growing pile of rejects. Listlessly, she handed Harper the next outfit. Finally, she spoke again, "I know that you've been bombarded with opinions about him since everything that happened in Geneva and that not all have been very positive. But I met him; I spent time with you guys. I couldn't imagine someone more worthy of you, Harper. You deserve a man who treats you like you're his everything, and that's what I saw. He was so respectful of you, so in tune with you, and I don't think I've seen you so at ease since before Josh, before the clusters. I hope that whatever secret shit the super soldier crew is doing right now is short-lived; I don't want you to lose any more time with him."

"Thanks, Kat," Harper replied, lower lip trembling and chest tight with emotion. She was then enveloped by her friend's hug, and they stood like that for a long moment.

"You have to get this one," Kat's pressing shattered the moment.

Harper was about to protest when she caught sight of her reflection. With a quirked brow, she admitted, "Maybe you're right about this one."

Steve: How you holding up?

Harper: Holding up just fine! Are you alright? Staying safe?

Steve: Safe as can be when we're still trying to take out HYDRA bases.

Harper: And the others?

Steve: All safe. School still going alright?

Harper: Busy, but all is going well. We also don't have to do this song and dance if you're really just trying to check up on me.

Steve: You caught me. You haven't noticed anything odd, right? Nobody new you keep seeing on the streets, no phone calls or anything like that?

Harper: Nope, everything is totally normal.

Steve: Good. I'm sorry I don't have any news.

Harper: That's really okay. I know we're both just hanging in there, playing this waiting game.

Steve: I'll be in touch if anything changes.

Harper: Thank you. Stay safe and take care of yourself, Steve.

Harper heaved a sigh, fingers stroking idly through the orange fur beneath her hand. She lay in bed, swallowed by her favorite blanket. Aslan stretched leisurely down the length of her torso and past her hips, sleeping away. Despite her best efforts, the dark haired woman was feeling especially down.

By all accounts, she should be pretty happy. Her fall semester had gone really well, and spring semester seemed to be a success thus far, too. She was enjoying her field placement well enough, though it was more to get a requirement out of the way rather than what she was really interested in doing. Her days were busy, but she got to talk with her sisters and parents more and she saw Kat often. She even met up with her other best friend from college, Tawny, from time to time. Her apartment was tiny, but worlds nicer than where she lived in Bucharest. All was going well.

But ever since her disastrous trip to her primary care physician, the terrible interaction about her cluster headaches had been nagging at her. Today, the negativity just couldn't be kept at bay. Harper knew she was lucky to have gotten a diagnosis so quickly. One hospitalization was all it took, and that was exceptionally rare. Maybe that's why her doctor didn't really believe her. Her near seven years of chronic pain had taught her a few things. Chiefly, that she did, indeed, suffer from the correct diagnosis of cluster headaches, but also that pain is something many doctors still don't know how to engage with in a helpful way.

She had received some pushback from her doctor all along, but he had never been so outright skeptical of her concerns about the pain she experienced. Her neurologist, too, had been generally unhelpful, and she now suspected that her doctor had referred her to that particular neurologist anticipating lack of follow up with the clusters. Luckily, the neurologist had been too laissez-faire to do much of anything and had simply written her the prescriptions she had talked to him about. Ultimately, though, neither of her doctors were of any real help in managing the condition, so she had turned to the online message board she had come to frequent.

A deluge of support had come her way almost immediately upon posting her thoughts on feeling alone navigating the medical management of the condition. Most people encouraged her to connect with a headache specialist, as those were often the only clinicians who had anything helpful to contribute to a cluster sufferer. With her insurance, however, she needed a referral from her PCP to see a specialist. Hence her recent appointment.

Harper couldn't understand why neither of her doctors really believed her about the extent of her pain. Did they both just lack empathy? Were they overly skeptical because of past patients? Did they underestimate her pain tolerance because she was young and female? Did they not believe that one of their patients could be one of the statistically few people with the condition? There was any possible combination of reasons, and the brunette was certain she'd never have an answer. Either way, she once again felt alone, stuck, and defeated. If she couldn't get a referral to someone who stood a chance at helping her, what was she supposed to do?

The young woman became dimly aware of the slow trickle of tears down her face into her hair. She blinked, trying to clear the fogginess from her vision as she continued to stare up at the ceiling. She should be happier. Things in her life had improved. So why couldn't she just be happy?

A sigh heaved through Harper's nose. She placed the mug back down on the coffee table, having found no more tea in it when she lifted it to her lips. Truthfully, she was beginning to think she needed something with substantially more caffeine than just tea. Class notes, PowerPoint printouts, and books marked up by highlighters littered the table. She'd gotten up early and had been at it for hours, but felt no closer to acing her exam the next morning than she had when she sat down.

Meanwhile, Aslan had been looking at her broodingly for quite some time. He was perched on the armchair, green eyes watching her every move and accusing her of neglecting him. His attention quota had absolutely not been met.

To make matters worse, she had waited the entirety of the previous day for a return call from a doctor's office in a bid to connect with a new PCP to no avail. She hoped that she'd yield better results today and that waking up early so as to get a full day of studying in would have positive results.

As if summoned by her thoughts, her cell phone began to ring. She picked up her phone, brows knitting in confusion when her eyes met the dark, blank screen. It took her several moments to realize that it wasn't her regular phone but the burner James had given her. Scrambling, limbs tangling and falling over each other, she darted to her bedroom to grab the ringing phone. Hardly daring to believe what was happening, she flipped it open and raised it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, doll."

A/N: Holy smokes! Thank you all so much for all of the support! I am so happy to see that so many of you are still tuning in to this story. I hope that these first two chapters painted a fuller picture of Harper. This story was fun to write because I got to dive into her and her perspective more than I was able to in Deserving.

I also have a question. When I was posting Deserving, I responded to all of the reviews I got. However, my life was a lot less chaotic then. Do people still want replies to their reviews? Even if it may take a while for me to do that? Thanks in advance for any input on this.

Also, I'm just realizing that some of my formatting wasn't showing up correctly after posting these chapters. I've gone back and reformatted so that different scenes/time points are now more distinct and easier to read as separate. Apologies for any confusion; I'll make sure things look the way I want right away moving forward!