Rumlow drops by after work for the next two days, staying for a while just to talk or watch a movie. I begin to get used to his presence in my house. It feels less empty, and his conversations keep me occupied, my mind unable to fill my thoughts with recreations of that horrible scene.
On Friday, he manages to convince me that I need some fresh air.
So here we are, Friday evening, taking a walk through the little arts district not too far from my house.
He doesn't mention Michael anymore, and doesn't speak of the funeral I wasn't invited to. Did he attend Michael's funeral? Was he invited to attend the funerals of his friends—the ones who had fallen while fighting for Shield?
Is it just Shield protocol to have secret funerals? Or is it because Michael was a nobody? Did they give him a proper burial? Did they acknowledge his achievements and his contributions?
In the end, I can't bring myself to ask any of these questions. I'm conscious of his efforts to cheer me up, so I try to keep the mood lighthearted. It's uncomfortable to see him worry over me.
I glance over at him just as we pass the café where I met Dr. Nikolav a few days ago. It feels like a lifetime ago now. This was the café where I promised him I'd watch out for Michael. The guilt jolts me out of my carefree state.
Rumlow looks into the windows and seems to misunderstand the reason for my sudden interest in the place.
"How about a coffee?" He pauses on the sidewalk. It's crowded—as always—and the angry glares of people manoeuvring around us force me to make a quick decision.
"Sure." The word sounds uncertain and frail on my tongue, but he doesn't seem to notice.
As we enter and seat ourselves by the windows, I see a familiar, jovial figure approaching us from the other side of the café. I hadn't thought things could get any worse than this. I was wrong.
"Elise! I didn't think I'd see you so soon!"
"Hi, Dr. Nikolav." I force a smile, fighting back the feelings of dread, guilt and shame that threaten to surface on my face.
He glances down at Rumlow, and then back at me, before his face lights up with recognition.
"Is this your boyfriend?" He doesn't seem to sense the subtle cues I'm trying to send him… that this is not the time or place for him to be his usual friendly self.
"It's very nice to meet you. I'm Vitaly Nikolav, Elise's supervisor from her last lab. " Dr. Nikolav holds a hand out, and Rumlow shakes it, the cordial smile on his face concealing his thoughts from me. His eyes flicker my way, a million silent questions on his lips.
"How is Michael?" Dr. Nikolav thankfully seems to have remembered that I asked him not to mention his meetings with either of us.
I feel the heat of Rumlow's gaze on me. He's watching me, waiting to see how I'll answer this question. It feels like the air has been sucked out of me. It's as if all of a sudden, the world is closing in. The background ambience fades away, the clinking of dishes and the sound of voices now distant.
The seconds are unbearably long as I struggle for a response.
"He's doing well. The guy loves his research." Brock intervenes for me.
"Ah, I see, I see. Send him my best wishes." Dr. Nikolav's looks satisfied with that response, his smile widening into a grin as he turns to me, "It's been so nice seeing you again my dear. Take care!"
He walks away, and I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
"Hey, it's okay." Rumlow looks at me, placing a hand over mine, "You did the right thing, not mentioning it."
His voice is gentle, but his expression is different. He's watching me carefully.
After a few seconds, the intent gaze is replaced by an amused smirk.
"I thought he was your dad. He looked pretty happy to meet me." He teases, picking up the menu in front of him.
"He… he was the closest thing I had to a dad. And to a family, I guess. My mother passed away when I was completing my bachelor's degree. I don't have any siblings, and she was an only child so… I was pretty much orphaned going into graduate school." I pick up my own menu absentmindedly, running my thumb along the worn plastic corners where the laminate has begun to peel.
I expected a revelation about his own background, but Rumlow is silent. As I gather the courage to glance up at him, we're interrupted by a cheery young waiter.
"Ready to order?" He flashes me a dazzling smile, flipping his light brown curls out of his face.
I'm caught off guard by his appearance, and I glance down at my menu quickly, picking the first thing that I see.
"Yeah, I'll have the French vanilla cappuccino, please." I hand him the plastic board and try not to notice the bold wink he sends my way before he turns to Rumlow to take his order.
As I watch the waiter stride away, I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Maybe I shouldn't have brought up my past.
The nagging worries disappear when Rumlow takes my hands, his brown eyes locked on mine.
"Listen, Elise. You're part of a team here. We're your new family. You don't have to be alone anymore. We watch out for each other."
His words fill me with welcome relief.
"Why are you so tense?" He angles his head slightly, a light smile on his lips, "Didn't Pierce mention that you'd be moving up? He trusts you."
Trust is a heavy burden to place on me at this point.
"He told you?"
"Of course he'd tell me," He chuckles, "I put in a good word for you."
"What? Brock, no-you didn't have to do that for me!" I pull my hands out of his grip and he raises a slightly irritated eyebrow.
"I recommended you based on merit and skill, after talking with your supervisors and discussing open opportunities. It has nothing to do with our personal relationship."
There it is—a glimpse of his working persona. Relentless, authoritative, unwilling to be questioned.
"I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm just… I don't think I deserve it after being on the team for such a short time." I shrink back against that steely gaze.
"You'll do fine, kid. I know it." His expression softens, and he smiles.
I'm not so sure.