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Meant to Be
Flashes of memories ran through her mind. That day in D.C, when HYDRA’s ships fell out of the sky. Shrapnel slicing through her leg; bleeding out on the sidewalk; being trampled as citizens ran for their lives; being left for dead…
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. She gripped her fluffy cashmere scarf with her free hand and focused on her breathing, like her therapist taught her.
Breathe in- 1, 2. Breathe out- 3, 4. Breathe in- 5, 6. Breathe out- 7, 8.
S.H.I.E.L.D, Captain America, Falcon, the Winter Soldier, waves of water, so much blood, so much screaming…
Breathe in- 1, 2. Breathe out- 3, 4. Breathe in- 5, 6. Breathe out- 7, 8.
She gripped tighter onto her leg, trying to focus on where she was. The people, the buildings, the freezing, cold air. The posters…
Death to false gods!
Death to false gods!
Death to false gods!
She didn’t have the energy to give the Avengers any more of her thoughts or memories. They weren’t worth the trouble. She had enough problems, and she finally had a weekend off. She didn’t have to worry about the Avengers, the mutants, or diplomacy.
She reached shakily into her bag, unable to wait, and pulled out a bottle of Vicodin. She discreetly poured out two pills and grabbed her water bottle. She swallowed them quickly with a swig of water. She put the bottle back and took in a deep breath.
Move on, she thought. Just move on. This is how it was meant to be.
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Chick Abbott returned to Brooklyn after S.H.I.E.L.D fell, four years ago. She had to change. She had to do something. The world felt hopeless and lost, and she wanted to help. The IEAs were fighting for them, but too many were dying in their path. S.H.I.E.L.D had failed, the Accords had failed, and the Avengers were fighting a losing battle.
How much can a woman do to keep the world whole, when she’s not whole herself?
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. She gripped her fluffy cashmere scarf with her free hand and focused on her breathing, like her therapist taught her.
Breathe in- 1, 2. Breathe out- 3, 4. Breathe in- 5, 6. Breathe out- 7, 8.
S.H.I.E.L.D, Captain America, Falcon, the Winter Soldier, waves of water, so much blood, so much screaming…
Breathe in- 1, 2. Breathe out- 3, 4. Breathe in- 5, 6. Breathe out- 7, 8.
She gripped tighter onto her leg, trying to focus on where she was. The people, the buildings, the freezing, cold air. The posters…
Death to false gods!
Death to false gods!
Death to false gods!
She didn’t have the energy to give the Avengers any more of her thoughts or memories. They weren’t worth the trouble. She had enough problems, and she finally had a weekend off. She didn’t have to worry about the Avengers, the mutants, or diplomacy.
She reached shakily into her bag, unable to wait, and pulled out a bottle of Vicodin. She discreetly poured out two pills and grabbed her water bottle. She swallowed them quickly with a swig of water. She put the bottle back and took in a deep breath.
Move on, she thought. Just move on. This is how it was meant to be.
------------------
Chick Abbott returned to Brooklyn after S.H.I.E.L.D fell, four years ago. She had to change. She had to do something. The world felt hopeless and lost, and she wanted to help. The IEAs were fighting for them, but too many were dying in their path. S.H.I.E.L.D had failed, the Accords had failed, and the Avengers were fighting a losing battle.
How much can a woman do to keep the world whole, when she’s not whole herself?