haven ; 𝐛. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 , 𝟏

001. an old friend

ONE—AN OLD FRIEND
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IT HAD BEEN months—no, years—since I'd seen him last. And then another week or so, I heard his voice on the phone for the last time. Explaining something about going to fight crime with Captain America, a 1940s superhero back from the dead. As his closest friend, after he'd come home from the military, I worried about him. After the loss of his best friend on a mission, it had taken him months to reach a point of talking about it. And even longer to get himself out of the gutter of PTSD.

So, naturally, after having witnessed his ultimate lows, I was a bit apprehensive about letting him go off and throw himself back into such things.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were in love with me," his smug tone painted a picture of a smirk on his lips.

"Oh, Sammy, how could you ever be so foolish?" I'd replied playfully, but I continued in a somber tone. "Seriously, I don't want you getting hurt, Sam. Not after everything you've gone through to reach this point. Don't let it go to waste."

"I'm not, Elda, I swear. I trust him. He's Captain America, if you haven't noticed. And I promise I'll keep in touch all along the way. Do you really think I would just leave and ditch you for a ninety-year-old man for a friend?"

Yes I do, I'd thought that day, but I hadn't said anything. As my gut had told me, I was right. For the next few years, I'd gone from checking in every once in awhile via text to forgetting that he'd even left. When I did, it hurt, to say the least. Because while I harbored no romantic feelings for my lifelong friend, I'd grown reliant on him. We'd become dependant on each other. Of course, everything comes full circle eventually, you just have to give it some time.

And it did come, in the form of three towering men on the front stoop of my family's summer home. In the dead of night, in the pouring rain, and with no previous communication.

I'm sure my shocked face was comical at the least, but none of them laughed. The figure closest to me stepped forward into the house, forcing me to stagger backward.

"Just who do you think you are?" I spoke angrily, still unable to see the face of my intruders. "You can't come into my house like you live here! That's it, I'm calling the police!" I started to retreat into the kitchen, where I'd last set my phone down, but there was a hand on my wrist, holding me back.

"I'm going to ask you not to," a man's voice came from under the hood, a deep growl that rolled over my body. I know that voice.

"And why," I retorted, ripping my wrist out of his grip, "would I do anything you tell me to?"

"Because," he said, taking a step back to let the moonlight wash over him, "it would prove to be in your best interests." Reaching up with both hands, he removed the hood. Underneath was a man I thought I'd never see again.

"Sam," I breathed, wonder in my voice. But with a quick second recovery, I walked forward and slapped him on the arm, just hard enough to leave it stinging. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He cracked an empty smile. "Hey there, El. How's is going?"

I scoffed, unable to say anything for a few seconds. "I guess you wanna come in, right?" Stepping away from the doorway, I gestures for the three of them to come inside.

"Thanks, you're really helping us out with this," he said, and tramped into the house, his two companions following suit. One of them stood up straight, with the arm of the second draped around his shoulders, helping him stand.

"Watch the carpet, watch the carpet, the carpet, Sam, oh my god," I cringed as I saw the wet footprints on the floor. "Okay, just take off your shoes, no, on the hard wood, Sam, that's the carpet again, can't you see?" Obviously not, I answered my own question as I grabbed his arm to steer him in the right direction. It's like he can't remember anything about this house anymore.

"Sorry about the mess," the second man's voice settles around me. "Sam said you were the safest place to take him." He nodded toward the slumped man on his left side, hanging on for dear life.

"Yeah..." I trailed off, grabbing an old towel to soak up the water on the carpet. "What's going on?" I asked when I stood up, looking meaningfully at Sam. I need answers, it said.

"You still have Cade's stuff here, right?" Sam asked, ignoring my question.

"I asked first," I replied, crossing my arms across my chest. "I'm not saying anything until you explain yourself."

He sighed. "Fine. But can we sit down for this? It's kind of a long story."

Well, there goes the rest of my night, I thought and beckoned them to the kitchen, where I started up a pot of coffee. "So who are you? And who's he?" I tipped my head at the two other men, who still hadn't revealed themselves.

Sam nodded confidently at his friends, causing one of them to pull back his hood.

"Oh my god, you're Captain America," I said in astonishment, turning around to face the handsome face completely. "Sam, that's Captain—"

"Not anymore," the soldier interrupted. "Now I'm just Steve."

I looked questioningly at Sam, but he only shook his head. Not now. "Okay, well, who's he? And what's his problem?" Pointing a finger at the clearly incapacitated third man, I inspected him.

His hair was a curtain of stringy dark brown locks, covering his features. His shoulders were broad and strong, his arms looking as if they were about to burst from their sleeves. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but he didn't lift his head.

"He's...an old friend," Steve explained vaguely. "And he's in a lot of danger."

"What kind of danger?" I narrowed my eyes and waited for an answer, although it took a few long seconds for anyone to speak.

"The CIA's looking for him," Sam said bluntly.

I blinked. "What?" I hissed. "He's a criminal? Sam, what have you been doing these past three years?"

He looked surprised. "It's been that long?"

I nodded as if to say, duh. "Uh, yeah, did you lose track of time while you were out gallivanting with Captain America?"

"Look, I would love to keep this reunion going," Steve interrupted, grunting with the effort of holding up his unnamed friend. "But is there anywhere I can put him? He's getting really heavy."

Nodding again, I pointed to the couch in the living room. "Huh," I pondered aloud as he laid him down on the cushions, "Captain America, unable to hold the weight."

"I told you," he sighed, returning to the kitchen and taking a seat, "I'm not him anymore." His eyes were downcast, as if his mind were replaying a memory.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and looked back at Sam. "It's been awhile, Sammy. I hope you're ready to talk."

He shrugged. "I hope you're ready to pull an all-nighter. This is going to take awhile."

"By all means," I gestured to the table, pouring three cups of coffee, "spill your secrets."

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i hope you enjoyed this first chapter, i'm literally writing this at school(haha what a dedicated chickie i am). this is gonna be so much fun to write, ahhh!

published on: march 19, 2018