You were his wife in the 40's through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, and through all of the twists of life. Even 70 years later you continued to love him, and stay by his side.
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*Punch* *Punch* *Punch*
With all the strength I had at my disposal, left within my tired, War-torn body I slammed my fists against the punching bag in the training room. My knuckles bandaged up, condensation dripping down my forehead, my athletic outfit damp with sweat.
I had settled on not getting any sleep tonight, a familiar occurrence that had seemed to afflict me in the grim, heartbreaking days that followed after the snap. The sweet release of slumber not a gift I could enjoy apparently, the one relief I had in letting my mind rest.
Sleep was no more just a cure for being tired, it had become like a life preserver to me. The only time I could receive a break from feeling like my heart was being ripped apart and torn into pieces. The only release I had from the anguish, from dealing with the world, and the sorry state it had been reduced to.
But, sleep came in short these past three weeks and most nights I surrendered to the brutality of being awake, and being left alone with my thoughts.
And, tonight, like usual, I was up.
*Punch* *Punch* *Punch*
I kept on incessantly slamming my fists against the leather bound punching bag, the silver chain in which it hung from jingling with every punch I threw as the toxic emotions of sadness and anger bit at me, clawing their way into the pit of my stomach. The hazardous mixture of rage and sorrow fueling my every hit to the sand filled bag, and on most nights, I could do this for hours on end.
On most sleepless nights I kept at it until my whole body was wet with perspiration, until my arms felt like jelly, and until my knuckles bled. Only then did I stop, not because I wanted to but because I didn't have any other choice.
I continued to strike heavy handed blows at the punching bag, envisioning it was Thanos, and I, a human, stood a chance against him. I thought about how much pain I'd like to inflict upon the Titan who took my husband from me, and even though salty tears began to sting in my sleep deprived iris's I had never been more furious. Consumed with anger.
Not too far from the training room I was within was the board room, and the holographic screens were still busy displaying every single living being that had been reduced to ash across the universe. Half of everyone, every living soul... And, half of my heart and the one who resided within it.
The faces of the fallen flashing ceaselessly across the screens even after 23 days, the death count seemingly endless.
And, I kept on throwing punches through gritted teeth, and dripping sweat until my knuckles were raw and until I was interrupted by a dear friend who stood, leaning against the glass door.
"You know, when I first got out of the ice I remember smashing the sand out of one of those." The Captain brought up, his voice drawing me out of my trance as I finally stopped.
"Is that your way of subtly reminding me of just how much stronger you are?" I asked, panting and exhausted, the muscles in my arms tremoring.
"I'm not. You're stronger, Becky. Always have been." Steve said, and I felt a few tears trickle down my flushed face.
"Right now I'm not..." I choked out, watching as my friend walked over and pulled me into a tight embrace, his muscular arms wrapping gently around me.
"You're going to get sweaty."
"I don't care." He said, my head resting against his chest.
"You shaved your beard."
"Yeah, well I'm no longer a Nomad, now am I? I've got people to be there for." Steve replied, still tenderly holding onto me.
"I can't move on, Steve. I can't... And, I'm not going to." I spoke up with steadfast determination, refusing to accept things the way they were, the way they had become.
"Some people move on, but not us." Steve declared, sounding just as adamant as I.
"You getting any sleep tonight, Becky?"
"No, whenever I close my eyes I have nightmares." I told my friend as he opened up the training rooms glass door for me.
"Okay, let's stay up. I'll make us a pot of coffee." He said, not letting me be sad and alone, as he handed me a towel.
