I walk in and stop. Etana is sitting cross-legged on the floor, cradling a violin in her arm. Her fingers are tracing the frets, and I know she just wants to play. But she can't.
"Tan?"
She looks up then smiles sadly.
"I…I know I should sell this… give it away… It'll die if it isn't played… But… This violin was made especially for me and I would only ever play this one. I know… I know if I sold it, we could probably fund the school for a year or so but…"
"Wait. Fund the school on a violin?"
"It's a Stradivarius. Antonio Stradivari made it for me. I know it's selfish to keep it but I fear that if I sold it, it would never be played. It's meant to be played. It has a soul to it. He gave it to me and it felt as if…I don't know…Like I was complete. I play and I can forget what I am. And now I can't even play anymore."
Her fingers trace over the instrument, plucking a sting then closing her eyes.
"I miss playing music. I think that's what I miss most of all. Being able to create something beautiful out of wood and… I can't describe it…"
"You don't have to. I feel the same about drawing. Blank paper, a few pencils and you can create anything."
She smiles sadly.
"But in a way, I can still make music. I just can't play it anymore."
"Pardon?"
She pulls out a few sheets of music, notes slapdashed across the page. She shrugs.
"This is a rough draft. Once I've finalised it, I'll send it to a friend of mine with connections to an orchestra. He'll make sure it's played at least once."
"I'm sorry. That the Avengers weren't there… That we couldn't…"
"You had your own problems. It's fine, Steve. In fact, it's been a miracle I've never been injured this badly before. I knew it would happen eventually. The best warrior can be defeated by one man with little training, if luck favours their opponent. When I began, I only survived through luck. The sun would blind my opponent at a crucial point, or something would distract them. And then I became the skilled one and I was always careful. In battle, always fighting with one I could trust at my back, never letting myself be careless. I've survived by being careful."
I reach out and pull her to my chest. Her left hand rests there and I suddenly remember the time her hand –her right hand- used to be placed on my chest, feeling my heart beat and her silver eyes would be fixed on mine.
And almost as if she read my mind, her fingers shift to the left side of my chest.
