𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 — i could have saved you

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 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 were no longer the same team the word had once come to recognise; they still did the very thing they had always set out to do — help.

 The Snap had caused an avalanche of catastrophes; people disappearing in the midst of car journeys had resulted in disastrous crashes. Helicopters and planes had fallen from the sky and collided with buildings; they had blown up and caused an outburst of untamable fires.

 Doctors, nurses, police officers and firefighters had been halved; death rates had skyrocketed, petty crimes were at an all-time high and fires had eaten away at homes and stores leaving nothing but char and smog behind.

 Children had lost their parents, watching with wide and uncertain eyes as mothers, fathers and guardians fell to their feet in a pile of ashes with nobody left to care for them; social workers did their best, but with so few staff, not everyone could be saved.

 Towns and villages that had already been struggling to provide for themselves had fallen further into poverty with such a lack of people to farm their resources. Countries had abandoned borders and political parties had fallen into utter chaos.

 The Avengers, or what was left of them — Carol Danvers, Rhodey, Natasha, Rocket, Nebula, Okoye and Steve — met with every mission; each hero would be given a place that had sparked a warning and took to solving whatever issue had arisen. It wasn't enough, and they simply didn't have the time to help and solve the 'smaller' issues.

 People had lost their homes due to the spontaneous crashes and outbreaks of blistering flames but the Avengers couldn't spare a hero to rebuild a single home. Natasha had frequented the cabin, checking in on Tony, Pepper and Morgan, as well as Emilia. The former Assassin had asked for Emilia's help and yet she had declined with a shake of her head.

 That wasn't to say that Emilia hadn't been helping people. The physicist-turned-super-powered being had taken to her own means of providing people with help; smaller countries that had never received the benefits of the Avengers, or any benefits at all, were where Emilia focused her efforts.

 She would slide her fingers into a sling-ring and portal to towns that had always been run down and dilapidated. Her hometown, for example. The small seaside village in which Emilia had been born and raised until her departure for America had always struggled with resources.

 Food had always been scarce, and what they did have was grown by the villagers themselves; all love and care poured into the dry soil where fruits and vegetables struggled to grow.

 Tony had joined her, and with the two of them working together whilst the villagers stood in awe, moisture was returned to the cracked soil thanks to the portals Emilia had summoned beneath the seawater, and homes had been restored with the help of Tony's suit welding metals together. Holes had been patched, doors and windows restored; the occupants couldn't have been more thankful as they plied the two heroes with what little they had to offer as a means of thanks.

 Some had recognised Emilia; those who had once taken her into their arms when she was but a bubbly child still trying to say the word banana in her mother tongue without giggling profusely as her mother pointed said fruit her way like a sword. They had hardly recognised the shell she had become.

 Emilia had travelled the world and bypassed uncaring borders for almost four years; her powers had grown and no longer was she petrified that she'd cause the chaos Dormammu had planned for her. It was strange... The very day the thread of fear seemed to have snapped, her abilities had flourished and Emilia had found it far easier to manipulate the world around her.

 Tony and Bruce had contributed greatly to her strength; Tony would tap at the arc reactor proudly sat upon his chest and don the nano-particles that made up his extravagant suit. He'd throw everything he could at her and watch as she pushed away blasts, as she protected herself from heavy hits.

 She had come into the powers that she had run from for so long... And yet, the stronger she grew, the worse she felt and the deeper she fell into that endless pit of despair that had been brewing for years.

 It was hard to ignore the guilt that stung at her flesh and tore holes into her heart when she passed a photograph of Tony and Peter Parker, it was crippling to hear Nebula recount her days with her sister and the 'Guardians' she had so reluctantly assisted, yet came to care for.

 But the worst of it came whenever Emilia would check on the Sanctum.

 Once a week her quiet footsteps would echo through the old halls and tap upon mahogany wood. Dust would dance before her eyes, an accumulation over four long years. The scent of juniper and sage that she had once loved so dearly was gone, as though it had vanished with... With Stephen.

 The old books and trinkets that Wong would have once busied himself with stung her like the edge of a freshly sharpened blade. But the photographs of Stephen, the clothes still sat atop the dryer, his cologne that had slowly evaporated atop the drawers... Those little things would clog her throat.

 The first time she'd managed to finally step past the threshold she had toppled to her knees as her heart thudded faster than it had ever done before. The weight of the chain around her neck felt heavier than ever... She had stayed there, back against the front door as she rode through a panic attack.

 She left soon after, trying week after week to finally make it up those creaking stairs that had finally been fixed, thanks to Tony, of course.

 Even to this day, Emilia's body recoiled at the sight of the Sanctum. It begged her to run and hide and stay as far away as she possibly could; but that just wasn't possible, not when everybody looked to her, the Master of the New York Sanctum, the stand-in for the Sorcerer Supreme, to keep an eye out for further threats.

 Emilia sighed, her fingertip trailing over the cool pedestal where a small hologram of the world spun on an axis. It was used to find threats and pinpoint their locations, to become aware of any disturbances that might require the help of a sorcerer.

 "Why did they ever pick me?" She muttered to herself as she wiped her hands on her clothes, ridding her skin of dust.

 She never entered the imposing building unless she had to; dust had collected in mounds around the Sanctum. It swallowed books and coated furniture; but who was left to care? Emilia couldn't stomach the place for more than an hour at a time, and it wasn't like Stephen would take a seat on the couch as he waited for her to join him.

 Emilia scoffed, "Master of the Mystic Arts... Master of the New York Sanctum... A placeholder for the Sorcerer Supreme..." Tears welled in her eyes and before one could roll past her lashes, she balled her hands into fists.

 A spark erupted, blue and hazy as though a foggy winter morning had just rolled in. A chair was knocked back, a bookcase wobbled and a few worse-for-wear novels slipped from their places. Dust erupted around her.

 "A placeholder for who?" Emilia laughed without mirth, "Wong? Stephen —"

 Then her voice cracked and all cobalt fog dissipated. She couldn't even say his name without crumbling.

 Her hands almost clawed at the edges of the pedestal, and though Emilia wished she could simply bypass the heartache that erupted in her chest, or replace it with anger and topple another chair... She couldn't. It was too overwhelming.

 She found a place on the ground, the back of her head finding solace on the cool metal pedestal as she brought her knees to her chest, feeling like nothing more than a broken excuse of a human being. Four years, and it hurt just as much as it did when she'd watched him leave her.

 She thought about him; the way he'd grumble when she teased him, the way he had smiled whenever they made progress with her powers, the way they doted upon one another after a battle... But then... she tried to think of him. His face. Those startling eyes... and she realised that nothing more than a blurred image passed before her.

 Perhaps her mind was simply trying to save her from having to miss that stupid face of his; she avoided all pictures of him, hell, she avoided any mention of him at all... it was too much.

 She brought a hand up, hovering mid-air as she wiggled her scarred fingers. Fresh cuts trailed over her knuckles, split skin that had only just finished oozing crimson blood. A jolt trailed over her skin, goosebumps left in its wake as her powers sparked to life once more.

 Wisps of powder-blue clung to her nails, twisted around her fingers and danced upon her palm; power that held limitless potential. Power that had already come so far in the past four years... that she knew she would have done better back on Titan. She could have forced her fear down her throat and used every ounce of power and force she could have mustered, yet she didn't.

 They could have won if she had done more, Emilia knew it.

 "I could have saved you." It was a whisper that could hardly be heard even by her own ears. It was pitiful and broken, just as she was. Emilia almost laughed as tears slid down her flustered cheeks; who was she even speaking to?

 He was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

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DATE: 07-01-2022

:·ﾟ★ pain<3

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