Friction

I took in another breath as I hung up. Everything was okay. I just over reacted. Things were fine. The poor man just didn't know what Google was and felt too embarrassed to say anything. I fell back on my bed with a sigh. I really needed to calm down sometimes.

A shot of anxiety ran through my heart, but I knocked anyways. After the sound of rustling, the door was opened by a metal arm. "You're early," he stated.

"Good to know you can use a clock," I teased. "Come on— I have my laptop set up in my room."

A grin came onto James' face. He let the door fall shut behind him as he followed me down the hall. "So…how do you Google?" he asked curiously.

I snorted lightly. "Google can be both a noun and a verb." James gave me an disbelieving look. "I know, it's weird. Google is a huge tech company like Apple, but they don't focus on consumer products as much. They're best known for an online search engine that helps you find anything you could ever need."

James' face screwed up in confusion. "Translation?"

"You type in your question and it finds you answers," I replied as I sat down at my desk. "Very helpful, and it's a great place to go for all of your random questions since we never seem to have enough time to go through the list. Come on, pull up a chair."

A moment later, I had the Google main page pulled up, and James was seated beside me. I pushed the computer toward him. "Type your question in the search bar," I told him.

"The what?" he asked.

I tapped the screen. "The search bar. First click on it with the track pad, then type your question." His look of befuddlement told me I hadn't eased his confusion. "Here, let me show you. What's one of the questions from your list?"

James pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and looked it over. "Who is Michael Jackson?" he read. I nodded, clicking on the search box before I typed in his question and pressed enter. In a flash, pictures and articles showed up on the screen.

"See?" I motioned. "It's easy. Now you try. Type another question in there."

This time, James looked nervous when I slid the computer over to him. He looked down at the keys, obviously unfamiliar with how to type properly. He settled for pecking out a question one letter at a time: "how tall are giraffes?".

I gave him a side look, to which he said, "What? I've always wondered."

I did my best to hold back a laugh. "Now press the enter button…yup, that one right there." Pictures of giraffes came up, along with an estimated height of fifteen to twenty feet. "Is your curiosity satisfied?" I laughed as I watched his eyes scan the page.

"Yeah…yeah I think so," he mumbled. His fingers hesitantly dragged across the track pad until the cursor reached the "Images" selection. He clicked, and his eyes widened. Hundreds of pictures of giraffes appeared before him.

"Here, just use two fingers— yup, your right hand— and move them upward on the track pad. That'll let you see the rest of the page," I explained. James nodded, following my instructions and scrolling down the page slowly. "There you go. Apple products always have tons of short cuts to help you get around easier. It might take a while to get used to them, but I'm sure you'll-"

"Sorry, did someone mention the original sin?"

James and I turned to be met with the sight of Tony Stark. Dressed in an ensemble that probably cost at least half my yearly salary, the man was everything I'd ever dreamed of. And possibly worse.

I noticed James' posture straighten defensively. "She was teaching me about Apple-"

"An incredibly inferior form of technology," Mr. Stark finished. "I get it, the stuff here is too complicated."

I found myself standing up and blurting out words before I could stop them. "I'm sure you would find yourself confused by the vast array of technology available here if you had been out of society for eight decades too, Mr. Stark."

The billionaire paused at that. "I'm sorry, who are you?" I opened my mouth to answer, but he said, "No, no, no, let me remember. You're the, uh…therapy girl, right? Therapist? Journalist? Historian? Honestly, is there a job they didn't give you?"

I stood my ground, trying to make sure I didn't grind my teeth. "I was hired to assist Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes in their adjustment to the 21st century. Not everyone grew up surrounded by the digital age like we did. Attempt to have some empathy, Mr. Stark."

The arrogant air around him grew cold. "That line. I know that line."

"It's from my feature on you from four years ago, during the Sokovian Accords," I reminded him. "It was the line that got us trending online."

"I remember," Mr. Stark bit out. "So why'd they hire you?"

I clasped my hands in front of me, trying to keep a neutral expression on my face. "Because my job has nothing to do with you, Mr. Stark. I'm not here to start a debate, I'm here to give help to those who need it. I understand we have our differences, but I ask that we set those aside for the sake of your fellow team members."

Mr. Stark's head finally lifted to look at me. He took a step forward, and I heard James stand up behind me. The billionaire's eyes lost their fire, went through various levels of confusion, and then settled on understanding. He laughed awkwardly, running a hand over the media center. His hand fell from the surface, and he nodded his head before he looked up.

"I see," he said. "I get it. You…" he trailed off, swallowing hard. "You do what you gotta do to get our boys in shape."

I inclined my head. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when the crunch of a metal hand tightening sounded through the silence. The billionaire turned on his heel and left without another word.

James and I both took in and let out a deep breath the second he was gone.

"Well, that went…bad," I mumbled.

James tilted his head. "The article-?"

"It didn't exactly paint Tony as the hero," I sighed. "It was after the Sokovian Accords deal. People realized they were wrong, that Steve had been right…and all of you guys were gone." I shrugged. "People were scared. The Avengers that had protected them for years had split up, and no one knew what would come next. I wrote the article in an attempt to get Tony to apologize, to try to understand where he'd gone wrong, to get the team back…and I guess now even after you guys got things figured out, he still doesn't want to give up his pride."

James shrugged. "That's a good way of summing it up."

A laugh came out of my throat. "Yeah, I guess so." I glanced back at my desk, remembering my original lesson plan for the day. After a moment of contemplation, I turned back around. "FRIDAY, tell Captain Rogers to come here," I requested. "We need to get started on our lesson."

I could hear James take in a sharp breath. "Eliza-"

"I'm fine, James," I assured him, forcing a smile. "I have a job to do here."

His jaw clenched, and his right hand tightened into a fist. "I should've said something. He had no right to come in here and say those things."

I shook my head. "There was nothing you could've said that would've made it better," I insisted gently. "It's just adding fuel to the fire…more bait for him to latch onto."

I could tell James wasn't satisfied with this answer, but he let it drop. Captain Rogers entered a few minutes later, and we sat down on the couch to begin our lesson.

"So," I started. "The Cold War. It's a bit difficult to describe, because it's not like other wars. It was us versus Russia, the two powerhouses of the Allies in World War II. But we had our differences, and before you knew it, the threats started rolling in."

My story continued, detailing the fight between capitalism and communism, the creation of nuclear weapons, the invasion of the Bay of Pigs, and how it all came to a close. Captain Rogers listened closely, hanging onto every word, but James seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes drifting back and forth from the book in my hand to the trees out the window. I found myself wondering what it had been like four years ago. People had nicknamed it the "Civil War" of the Avengers, but I'm not sure it was.

It seemed to be more like the Cold War. Tensions that stood for years came to an all time high. Differences couldn't be set aside. Threats were idly made in an attempt to create peace. A few skirmishes occurred, but there were no lasting consequences, other than broken trust.

When the lesson ended, James got up and left. Captain Rogers apologized hastily before he left too, in hopes of finding James and figuring out what was wrong.

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.