#dearspacepirates

He did not think this through.

The fallen god grasped at the ground beneath him. He’s covered in ash and the air around him burns and freezes. He smelled smoke and fire and then blood and flesh. He pushed himself up off the metal floor. “Where the hell am I?”

A weak moan alerted him, and to his left, he found a man in his final seconds. The dying man lifted his arm weakly; his fingers shook. He rasped out a last cry for help at his prince before his hand fell and his soul was sent to Valhalla. Loki knew that man. He sold Blåveis and wildflowers at the edge of the market when he was a child. Why was he here… dying a warrior’s death?

“Our crew is made up of Asgardian families.” A transmission. “We have very few soldiers here. This is not a warcraft. I repeat this is not a warcraft.” Asgardian? This ship certainly wasn’t Asgardian... Why was this man sending a mayday call?

“Hear me and rejoice…”

The bodies around him were all Asgardians. Soldiers and men laid lifeless in this iron room—on this ship that was not a warcraft. Surely Thor wouldn’t let this happen… Nor Odin. How did this happen?

He was no less confused when he heard his brother speaking on the other side of a large crack in the metal wall. On the level below him stood his brother trapped in steel and strange beings he’d never encountered. One was tall with a gauntlet of gold like the one Odin kept locked away in his vault. He was collecting Infinity Stones… Behind him was a thin and sinister figure. And another was… himself. With the tesseract. Like the one that was… where was it?

“Loki?” A woman watched him from behind a fallen support beam. In her hands was the Tesseract. Her lip curled downward and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why do you have this?”

“Who are you?” Alright, so she knew his name, and he clearly didn’t know her. Her clothes were not of Asgard. The dress was revealing and unfitted to her, the straps her too long, making the neckline only slip further. Even as she watched him carefully, she still absentmindedly pulled up the straps.

“Wha—”

A scream from below interrupted the woman. She ran to the edge of the room and peered through the wall. Loki could not see what was happening, but the horror in the woman’s eyes said enough.

“Oh Valhalla...” Her hand clamped over her mouth. Loki slowly approached the source of the screams before he heard his own voice.

“ALL RIGHT, STOP!!” The woman gasped and stepped back, turning to face him. Her eyes watered and her bottom lip trembled. She turned back to him.

“Who are you?” she demanded, though her voice wavered. “Are you one of them?”

Loki scoffed. “I haven’t the slightest ide—”

“Why do you look like him?” she cut him off. “You’re not Loki,” she insisted.

Loki chuckled nervously, but he flashed a charming smile and lifted his hands hoping to appear non-threatening. He started to approach her, trying to figure out a way to get the Tesseract back.

“Don’t come any closer! I will—use this!” she warned, holding the cube in between the two of them.

“Do you even know how to use that?”

“Um—well, do you?”

“I got here with that thing, didn’t I? Now give it back.” He stretched his hand out to her, but she didn’t move a muscle.

“No, I—”

Loki had enough. He wanted answers. Now. The woman gasped as he disappeared and reappeared in front of her in a flash of green, the cube now in his hand and her arm in his other. “Tell me where I am.”

She stared at his grip on her. “You’re not my Loki…” she inquired once more.

A daunting whir of hums and struggles came from the crack. The woman peered back at the scene below. Thor’s muffled cry filled the walls of the iron room, but it was the woman’s scream that shook Loki to his core. She fell to the floor and wailed and howled in agony. A weak “no” and soft pleas escaped her tears.

Loki glanced through the hole as the woman started to gulp air between her sobs. His lifeless body was strewn on the floor, and a purple haze shrouded his view of the scene below. Amethyst flames began to surround the ship. Metal and dead men were enveloped in the blaze. Loki never liked the heat…

It appeared that Loki’s time here… wherever he was, was about to come to an end. Blue light encased his fingertips and the cube materialized before him. A sharp choking sound clouded out Loki’s attempts to think of anywhere he could go—the woman.

“Shit…” Using his free arm, Loki pulled the woman up before she could protest. “This better work.” He lifted the Tesseract and prayed the silvery clouds encasing him and his new acquaintance would take him anywhere better than here.

Loki sat up covered in sand. Again, more heat. He was really starting to think this damned cube was more a curse than a blessing.

“Oh… ow…” The woman groaned and rubbed her puffy eyes. Squinting under the desert sun, she glanced around to view her surroundings before her eyes widened in realization. “Oh shit!” Her hands returned to the ground, burying themselves in the sand frantically.

She whipped around in a haze of anger and hysteria. “Take me back!” she screamed to him. “Take me back!”

“What the hell are you talking about!? That ship is gone—and I just saved your life!” Loki argued, but she wasn’t listening and continued to dig through the sand. Loki ignored her as he concealed the cube under his magic. He looked back up to see the woman still clawing at the sand. “Who are you?”

“Take… Take me back,” she begged, slowly giving up on the sand. “I have to go back.”

Loki watched the woman break into sobs once again. His grip on the dagger up his sleeve softened and his gaze relaxed. “Who are you?” he asked once more.

“Is this some cruel trick you played Loki? Because it’s horribly unfunny!”

“I assure you that I don’t have the slightest clue as to what you’re referring. That… Loki. He wasn’t me.” Where did this damn thing take him?

“I don’t believe you. You… Out of all the things you’ve done Loki. Lying, stealing, killing, faking your death. I’m… I can’t take it! You promised you wouldn’t—”

A flash of orange cut off the woman. The light shaped itself into a doorway above the dunes.

“What the hell—” Loki turned on his heel to face the orange portal in time to see four men step out two-by-two. Their tailored coats were labeled with “TVA” and Loki’s stomach immediately dropped. “Shit.”

One of the men in the back handed the forefront man a clipboard from which he read off, “Mister Laufeyson and… friend. The TVA requests your presence at headquarters. You are under arrest for meddling in with the fabric of space-time. Please be compliant and come with us. Your friend can come if she’d like.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Loki insisted. “If you don’t mind, I would hate to have all this trouble I’ve been through go to waste. Thank you. Bye!” Just as he was about to pull out the Tesseract, one of the men suddenly appeared in front of him and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Loki threw a dagger at the man, hitting him square in the chest. The man merely looked down at the weapon, no change in his expression. He grabbed onto the handle of the dagger and pulled it out. No blood, the wound already healed.

“Please comply, Mister Laufeyson. The TVA expects your arrival,” he said.

“I don’t think so.” Loki revealed the Tesseract with his magic, praying it would take him somewhere good for once. But as soon as he took it out, the handcuffs were tightened on his wrist. The emotionless man repeated his request for compliance.

The other men move then, making their way to the woman. She stands slowly and silently allows them to escort her to the portal. She refuses to meet Loki’s eyes as they both walk defeated to the portal.

“So he’s really not lying then,” she said quietly. Her hands dug into her skirts. Her hair covered half of her face, but anyone could make out the tears that lined her cheeks.

“No, I’m afraid not, Miss,” Mobius answered. “I regret to say your actual husband is gone.”

She pushed the desk and her metal chair screeched on the linoleum floor. Loki didn’t look up from his hands planted on his tan prisoner uniform pants as he listened to her distant footsteps and the sound of a closing door. He tugged at the cuffs on his wrists. He could feel the magic dampened in his veins. The muscles in his forearms felt dull.

“Loki,” Mobius started. “As you can see, the warrant for your arrest specifies that we will have to prosecute you. You’ve broken several laws, violating the guidelines of linear time travel as well as interdimensional voyaging. While our agents are currently fixing the mess you made, including sending that lovely woman back to Earth-200000, you will, of course, have to be sent back to Earth-199999 so that the course of events and play as they were supposed—”

“You’re going to kill her.”

“Excuse me?”

The door kicked open again. Another agent in a clean suit marched in with a glass plate in hand with a sandwich laying on top. He placed the sandwich on the desk and left as quickly as he came in. “The woman. There’s nothing to send her back to. The ship she was on was destroyed before I saved her. You’re not sending her back. You’re going to kill her.”

Mobius leaned forward on his desk, clasping his hands. “We’re simply sending her back straight back to the time and place she left. If that happens to lead to her death, so be it. That’s her fate.” He paused to rest his head on his hands. “What do you care anyway? You don’t know her.

Loki hesitates to answer. No, he didn’t know her, but… he can’t stop thinking about how she reacted when… he died. The he that she married. Devoted herself to. She looked… dead inside. Hollow. Did she feel as he did when he fell from the Rainbow Bridge all those years ago? Was he looking at her the way Thor did when he let go?

“Are you going to eat that by the way?” Mobius pointed to the sandwich. “That’s technically for you, but I skipped lunch.” He didn’t wait for Loki’s answer before bending over the desk and taking the sandwich before taking a large bite out of the corner. Loki leaned back in his seat.

“If she was my wife in another dimension, I can’t help but be curious. Perhaps I’d enjoy her company.” Loki tilted his head. The gears turned in his head. He needed to figure out a way to escape. The TVA took the Tesseract from him, and he wasn’t keen on making an exit in prisoner attire.

“I didn’t know you had a thing for widows.”

“Well, I can’t say it’s never crossed my mind,” Loki smirked.

Mobius chuckled and took another bite of the sandwich. “Sadly, we’ll never know how that would work out. An agent will escort you to your holding cell until further notice.” An agent waited for Loki to stand and directed him towards the exit. “Oh, and thank you for your compliance.”

The TVA looked awfully like Midgard, perhaps from some decades ago. The architecture was garish, and the employees were... disconcerting. Each bred and born for a specific purpose. His… Odin once told him about the Time Variance Authority. Existing in an infinite dominion between worlds, a bureaucracy that rules the operations of time across the multiverse. Workers are cloned to working perfecting. Minimize disputes, increase efficiency.

The agent guided him down another long hall with identical doors lining the walls, opening and closing as countless numbers of agents entered and exited them. Loki glanced to his left. An agent walked through the door… to a jungle on the other side. To his right, a female agent exited a metropolis with flying vehicles. Another escorted a Krylorian to a portal leading to a crashing ocean. The chains between his limbs clinked as he strolled down the hall that never seemed to end.

“Thank you. I… think I’m ready now.” You stood in front of a closed door, holding the hand of an agent. He nodded and you dropped his hand. He opened the door, silently motioning her towards the shipwreck that Loki had rescued you from a mere couple of hours ago.

Loki muttered your name.

“Oh, uh hello.” You shifted uncomfortably. “I have to say. I think you look better in green.”

Loki smiled softly. “I think this attire might be worse than my actual punishment.”

You chuckled in return. “At least I can die in dignity in my own clothing.”

Loki was taken aback. “You’re not serious?” Loki again noticed the state of your appearance. Eyes flushed and puffy and red. Your bottom lip was swollen as you continued to chew on it.

“I am.” He said your name once more, like he was in disbelief that you would be so willing to give up your life like this. He reminded you so much of the man you married. Always the survivalist. It was strange to see the face of the love of your life standing before you even though it wasn’t really him. Some part of you wished your husband was the one standing before you, but there stood a slightly younger version of the god that you would have given your life for... in the flesh. “I hate to end our new friendship on such a bad note, but you do age quite a bit in the next few years. Try to sleep more, my dear Loki.”

The god scoffed and turned his head. “I’m not letting you just… kill yourself.”

“I’m just taking a page from your book.” You swallowed, a frown evident on your lips. “I assume you did the same as my Loki after Thor destroyed the Rainbow Bridge.” You turned and looked at the scene of the broken ship floating in the cosmos. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that… Take care of yourself, Loki.”

Loki grasped your wrist before you could walk through causing the cuffs to pull his other arm up. The agent behind Loki tapped his shoulder, insisting that they needed to move on, but he ignored his probes.

“I’m not letting you walk through that door.”

“My husband is dead.” There was an insistence in your voice that you seldom used, and yet your breath quivered. The tip of your nose was cold. The tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you sighed and wiped your eyes. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “I want to be with him. Let me go, Loki.”

The agent now placed a firm hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Mr. Laufeyson. It’s time to go.”

Loki turned back around, a devilish grin lining his lips. “Yes, I believe it is.”

In a trice, the agent behind Loki was on the floor and the one guiding you was on the other side of the door, floating in the ship debris where you were supposed to be. The raucous alerted the other agents in the hall who turned their heads in the direction of the noise. They began to make their way towards you. Loki acted quickly, lifting his cuffed hands above your head and looping his arm around your waist, pulling you to the other side of the hall.

“Are you ready?” he asked, backing up slightly like he was readying himself for a leap. Loki didn’t wait for your answer and ran straight towards the open door across from him. You saw a small glimpse of a grassy field before hitting solid ground.

“Why did you do that!?” You whipped your head up, your hair strewn about your face in a wild mess. Your ill-fitting clothes were now caked in dirt and grass stains. You stood on a hill overlooking a… rather familiar landscape.

“I saved your life. Again!” He pointed an accusatory finger at you, but the effort was lost with his bound hands. He grunted in frustration.

“I-I wanted to go. I didn’t want to be saved!”

Loki took in a hot breath. “You wouldn’t have seen him anyway. Valhalla is a heaven for warriors and your valiant death wouldn’t have given you an in.”

That you laughed at, if not bitterly. “You always said you’d go to Hel. I intended on seeing you there.”

“I am not your husband,” Loki spat, venom lining his words.

“No! You’re not. Yet you’ve kept me from him,” you said matching the malice in his voice.

Two voices interrupted your argument.

“Goddess, you will ruin me one day.” A young boy with inky hair ran up on the other side of the hill, holding a posy of flowers. He looked down the hill and knelt down, reaching his hand out. An equally tiny hand held onto his hand, letting him pull up. A girl pushed up and sat on the peak of the hill. He awkwardly shoved the flowers in her hands, like he’d been holding them for her when they climbed up the mound of dirt and grass.

“My mother says you’re dangerous, Trickster,” the girl taunted, reorganizing the flowers in a prettier arrangement. “Like the Midgard Serpent. You’ll strike when we least expect it.”

“Perhaps I’ll marry you. Your mother surely wouldn’t expect that,” the boy smirked. The girl pretended to attack her friend, attempting to make him jump. She wasn’t strong enough to knock him down though, and he snickered. He pushed her playfully, but she slipped and rolled down the hill, giggling the entire way down. The boy hopped down, rolling and laughing along with her.

“Oh Valhalla…” You paled.

“What?” Loki prodded. Watching the children at the bottom of the hill.

“We have to hide. Now.”

Loki was about to prompt her for an explanation, but the little girl’s playful wail answered his questions instantly.

[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

July 12 was going to go down in history as the day that Y/N Julianne Parker conquered her fear of heights. 

For the past seven years you've lived in Brooklyn, you and the gang went to Coney Island every day that you possibly could in the seventy-seven days of summer that school offered you. And every year, everyone would buy a ticket for the Wonder Wheel… except you. So for an hour of waiting time and ten minutes while your friends could be heard from the top screaming and laughing, you sat at the bottom waiting. But it wasn’t so bad. Someone always sat out with you to keep you company while the rest rode the wheel. Of course, you always felt a little guilty about it; like the little sister that no one wanted to deal with. They drew straws and the unlucky member that was picked didn't get to partake in, apparently, the “best ride ever” that year. 

[Summer of 2004, Third Grade, 8 y/o.]

The first time the gang went to Coney Island, well, the gang was much smaller. Just you, Steve, and Bucky. Sarah was the one to suggest that the boys draw straws.

“We don't leave each other behind,” she'd said, taking out the straw of her coke and cutting it into different sized pieces with the pocket knife from her ex-husband. “Now, that also applies to me. Three straws. Steve, Bucky, and me. Whoever picks the shortest straw stays with Y/N.”

You stared at your feet and shuffled your feet. “I-I don't want to keep you guys from—”

A comforting hand landed on your shoulder and Sarah gave you a warm smile. “Hey, we're not abandoning you.” She ruffled Steve and Bucky’s hair with her spare hand. “These two little buggers and I? We're with you until the end of the line, baby.”

Steve had drawn the short straw that particular time, but he didn't really mind. He said heights triggered his allergies anyway.

[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

“You can do this. You can do this. Just brea—”

“Hey, relax, will you? You've been shaking since we picked you up. It's a ferris wheel.” Tony slung his arm around your shoulders, chewing on the stick of the lollipop he started on the walk there. He peaked at you imphisly from under his sunglasses.

“Lay off, Stark. Just be nice about it, ok? She's nervous,” Steve butted in. Always the hero, you thought. 

“Thanks, Stevie. But really, I am… ok. I can do this,” you insisted. You looked up at the giant wheel and your stomach floored. The line shifted forward and Bruce bumped into you.

Bruce adjusted his tilted glasses. “Oh sorry—”

“I can't do this!”

Half of the crew sighed and started digging through their pockets. Tony, Thor, and Natasha muttered small curses before handing fives to Clint, Loki, and Bucky. 

“I really thought you were going to this time around,” Natasha groaned, but she still smiled at you before glaring at a very satisfied Clint.

You huffed in annoyance. “Even you, Bucky?”

“Don't hate the player. Hate the game, killer,” he smirked, shoving Thor's five into his pocket. You continued to frown.

“Aw, come on, doll. Don't be that way.” Bucky came over to you, placed his hands in his jacket, and shot an innocent pout at you. “You know I love you. You're my dream girl.”

You punched him in the arm. “Fuck off, James.”

He backed up like a wounded dog, holding his arm. “Hey, I'm just trying to make us some money. So we can start a life together, baby. You and me.” 

Flirt. You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever,” Tony muttered, putting his wallet back in his pocket. “Who's got the straws?”

Steve bashfully pulled out multiple straws of different lengths and began to shuffle them in his palms. The routine started again. Everyone pulled a straw: Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Nat, then Bucky. 

Bucky drew the short stick. 

The gang patted his shoulder—their clandestine form of sympathy, just as the routine went. The gang entered the line and you and your unlucky companion for the next hour and ten minutes sat on the bench near the vintage ice cream parlor that sold flavors all the way back to the 1930s. And then, you'd thank whoever sat with you. Sometimes, they bought you a cone or if they had historically Irish luck, then you'd buy them a sundae because it was the second time they had to sit with you. (A rightfully bitter Clint once asked for the most expensive item on the menu and Coney Island prices weren't cheap.)

Something about this time was different though. It was funny. In all the seven years you'd known Bucky, he never once drew the short straw. Never. Long had he been accused of cheating, but your peers could never prove it. Until now.

Apparently, he wasn't cheating.

You decided to stick to the routine anyway, despite the sour frown on Bucky's face. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You tried to shoot him a small smile, but his pout persisted and he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. 

You sat there for a good ten minutes until you started to get sick of Bucky’s frown. Bucky was always difficult when he was in a bad mood, but after years of trial and error, you knew how to deal with his moodiness. “I’ll be right back,” you said.

You got up and waded into the crowd of people before disappearing altogether from Bucky’s view. He slumped further into the bench. “Why am I even here if you're just gonna split?” he muttered.

After several minutes, Bucky’s cheeks began to hurt and he sat up. Where were you? He stood and scanned the surrounding area for his annoyingly evasive friend. 

“Hey!” A finger poked him in the shoulder and when he turned, he was met with a large ice cream cone shoved in front of him. Behind it, stood Y/N with an innocent grin lining her face.

Bucky took the cone and smirked, “You remembered.”

“Burgundy cherry on a sugar cone. Two scoops,” you recited, rocking back and forth on your heels.

He chuckled. She always knew how to cheer him up. He stared at the scoop of pink ice cream. “I’m sorry for being… dumb about the ferris wheel. I know you don't like it,” he mumbled. 

“It’s okay.” You blushed behind your cone, hoping Bucky wouldn't see. “You’re lucky you've got those baby blues, Barnes. It's what's kept me around all these years,” you joked, shoving him playfully in the arm. 

Bucky pulled away in pretend pain. “Careful killer, you just might make me fall in love with you.”

“Save it, Barnes.” 

Bucky watched you while you returned to licking your ice cream. As much as he loved you, Bucky was going on that ride.

He stood up and reached out for your hand, smiling warmly. “Come on, Killer. I've got a surprise for you.”

You looked up with excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah, but you gotta close your eyes.” Bucky walked behind you and covered your eyes with his free hand. “Trust me. You'll like this.”

“Holy fuck, Bucky!” you screeched, pushing into Bucky’s side, trying to get away from the edge of the seat. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you rose higher and higher. You screwed your eyes shut, but it only accelerated the tears that poked at the corners and threatened to spill down your cheeks. 

“Bucky, I want off…” you whimpered. “I want to get off.” 

“Hey, just don’t look down. You’re safe with me,” he assured you, taking your hand in his. You squeezed it, hard. He pulled his other arm away from where you pressed against it and wrapped it around your shoulders, beckoning you into his embrace. 

“Please Bucky, I want to get down,” you whispered, one single tear rolling down your cheek as you spoke. You knew what you were asking wasn’t rational, but logic and reason were left on the ground below, along with your confidence. 

“Just focus on your breathing and focus on me,” He coached, making stupid deep-breathing gestures with his arms. 

“What about you? Focus on how much I hate you or the strong urge I have to punch you?” You fire back, not feeling at all comforted. If anything, that made it worse. You were slowly rising higher and higher and the pit in your stomach grew deeper and deeper. 

“Well I… was thinking more like something along the lines of this,” he murmured, taking your hands. He started to rub small circles into the skin of your hand with his thumb, “And this,” he said with the same soft intensity, the arm that was wrapped tightly around your shoulders, snaking itself around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, warming you from the breeze of being so high. And then Bucky made that stupid face that made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. So stupid…

Bucky watched as you calmed your breathing. He knew you’d probably uphold your promise to punch him when you got off, but it was worth it. You shivered at the cool temperature from being at the top of the ferris wheel. Bucky’s instincts pulled your closer to him; he was always warm, so you would always cuddle up to him. It was then that Bucky realized that he was still holding your hand and you were still staring at him with your stupid, doe eyes. 

And that’s when Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. 

All of freshman year, you and he had been dancing around each other, daring the other to just say something, but the two of you were probably the most stubborn people on the planet. He wasted all of freshman year flirting with other girls because he had too much pride to just admit that you were the only one for him. Fuck friendship, Bucky Barnes fell hard for you and he didn’t want to come up for air any time soon. 

“What’re you starin’ at, pretty boy?” you mumbled. 

“Killer, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Oh, just wait until we get off this damn—mphf!”

Lips connected to yours. The butterflies in your stomach that started flapping because of your sheer terror, began to fly for entirely different reasons. His lips were soft and gentle. You gripped his hand a little tighter and lifted your free one to drag it through his hair.

“Oh shit! Are you guys fucking making out!?” You could hear Clint’s voice two cars down. 

“Holy shit!” Tony. “Someone get a picture! Also, Thor owes me 20 bucks!”

“What!? You couldn’t have waited like another week, Barnes!?” Thor’s voice boomed. 

Bucky placed his hand on the side of his mouth and yelled down, “Stop betting on everything!” He sucked in his lip in annoyance and huffed at his friends’ commentary and his ruined moment with you. But you just chuckled.

“I think this is my new favorite ride,” you said and Bucky’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He placed his hands on the sides of your head and kissed your forehead.

“So does this mean you’re my girl, killer?” he mumbled against your head.

“I don’t know, James. I’m still pretty mad that you tricked me.”

“Didn’t you say you liked this ride now. I remember you calling it ‘your favorite ride,’” he said, bending his fingers in air quotes.

“I’m punching you when we get off this stupid machine, jerk.”

“If it means I get to kiss those pretty lips again, then hit me with your best shot.”

[Summer of 2020, 24 y/o.]

“We are now in New York City. This is 206 Livingston Street. Thank you for riding with Greyhound and we hope you have a good day.” 

The double-doors of the bus opened with a hiss and you gathered your bags after saying goodbye to the nice father who was taking his boys on a trip to the Big Apple for their summer vacation.

Your phone buzzed.

Today | 10:00 am

Wanda: Hey, just wanted to make sure you got here ok :) Y/N: I just got off. I’m headed to your apartment right now. Wanda: Are you sure you don’t want me to help you with your bags? Y/N: I’m ok. Just waiting for a cab.  Wanda: Ok, stay safe <3.  Wanda: And remember! Drinks at the Odinsons’ at 8, ok?  Y/N: Ok, I'll think about it… Are you sure he won't be there? Wanda: No, drama queen. He took an extra shift at the station anyway. Wanda: Be there! x

You stared at the apartment in front of you and thought about Wanda's last text. You were hesitant to go anyway. Seeing everyone again… It'd bring back too many memories that all involved him. Maybe Wanda was right. You were a drama queen. You couldn't even think his name without being upset. And even though you were in the largest city in America, you had a feeling it would be hard to avoid him. 

God, you couldn't believe you were back here. Six years ago, you swore you'd never come back to New York and here you were in the same place you started.