┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ━━━━┑
chapter seven
OVERDUE
CONVERSATIONS
┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
┊　　┊　　┊ 　 ┊ 　┊　　┊　　┊
┊　　┊　　┊ 　 ☆ 　┊　　┊　　┊
┊　　┊　　 ✬ 　 　 　✬ 　 ┊　 ┊
┊　　★ 　　　 　 　 　　　　★　 ┊
☆ 　　　　　　 　 　 　　　　　　 ☆

IT'S NEARING OCTOBER, and New York City seems to have anticipated the coming of autumn. The previously lush, green trees are gradually fading to a sickly yellow that will soon darken to oranges and reds, framing the walk through the park with the artistry of a Hallmark movie. A cool breeze drifts through the city, reminding the people outdoors of the steadily dropping temperatures.

Ceres holds a to-go cup of coffee in each hand as she sits on a wooden bench in Central Park, waiting for Steve. The pond ripples calmly before her. Several ducks swim in the water, weaving through the plants sticking out from its depths. A frog makes its call every few seconds. Swans loiter in the foliage surrounding the area that obscures most of the pond from her view.

She basks in the serenity of the park, paying attention to each animal that catches her eye and every sound she hears. When was the last time she simply sat and observed the beauty of the earth? Even if she's not steadily running out of time like the rest of the world, she's always been moving. Joining the X-Men and filling her days with training and missions. Taking on two jobs just to pass the time. Picking up extra shifts when she doesn't have to. Moments like this remind her that she needs to slow down and enjoy life as it is, not rush every minute even though she has eternity.

Finally, she hears footsteps along the path that leads down to her sitting area. Ceres turns around to see Steve heading toward her. Like her, he's decided to combat the slight chill in the air with a jacket, though his is navy blue instead of her brown leather, over a flannel. It makes her realize that most of his outfit choices are relatively plain. He sticks to reliable patterns and colors that were surely popular back in his time. She finds herself wondering what his reaction had been the first time he'd seen a department store. Did he almost have a heart attack?

"Sorry I'm late," Steve says as he approaches the bench. He slides onto it with grace, and even though some strands of his hair are in disarray, signaling he'd been in a hurry, he isn't out of breath whatsoever. "I got lost. The park is so much bigger than it used to be."

He holds up one of the brochure maps they have at the information centers spread around the area to explain how he'd found her.

Ceres winces. "Sorry. I thought you might need specific directions, but by the time I realized that, it was too late, and I don't have your number."

"Ah. Yeah. Well." Steve rubs the back of his neck, squinting because of the sun that turns the ends of his blond hair a white-gold. "I don't have a cellular device yet."

"Most people call them cell phones," she explains with an amused quirk of her lip. "Or just phones."

"Right." He drops his hand sheepishly. "I don't have a phone, then. But I do have a landline?"

Ceres takes a small notebook out of her jacket pocket along with a pen. She writes Steve's number on a clean page as he recites it, not trusting herself to add it to a pre-existing one that has all sorts of jargon on it. She doesn't go anywhere without the notebook— she uses it to copy blips of information she wants to add to her journals later, jot down pieces of media that catch her eye, things that make her happy in the moment. To anyone else, it looks like scribbles of gibberish, but to Ceres, it's a lifeline.

Steve's gaze lingers on the notebook even as she flips it closed and slides it back into its place in her pocket. He blinks, almost like he's snapping out of deep thought, and motions to the cups. "Coffee?"

"Oh, yes," Ceres says, passing him the travel cup in her left hand. Her own drink rests on the bench so she could write, its warmth seeping through her jeans where it's caged between her knees. "I don't work at the café today, but I thought I should bring us something for tradition's sake. I didn't grab any pastries, though."

Steve snaps his fingers in mock disappointment. "I was really craving a cinnamon roll today, too."

A smile plays on her lips at his casual joke. She's glad to see him doing so more often— each hint of sarcasm or playfulness means another wall she's scaled past.

But today's meeting will be different. Today, her main goal isn't to peel back each layer of the man beside her and find what lies beneath.

"The other day, you said you were interested in knowing more about me," she says, her voice tentative. She's spent every free moment since their last meeting pondering how she would phrase her words, but in practice, her brain is getting jumbled. Steve nods to affirm his earlier statement and spur her along. "I feel more comfortable telling you some things now that we're not at my job. Wanna walk?"

They stand, starting along the pavement that leads back toward the middle of the park's southern end. Ceres takes in a deep breath and releases it to rally her strength. Her stomach is full of nerves, and with the caffeine she's drinking, she's only going to get more jittery as the afternoon moves along. She has to do this now before her anxiety gets the better of her.

She's been thinking substantially about her talk with Charles. Even if she hadn't liked it, he'd told her the truth about what she's been doing, even subconsciously. Each conversation with Steve brings her closer and closer to being a fraud. Soon she will teeter on the edge of becoming a liar by omission if she doesn't tell him the truth.

Part of the reason Ceres had found Steve so intriguing was due to the parallels between their backstories. To him, she's merely some woman he happened to save the day Loki sent an army of aliens to attack Earth. To continue stringing him along with this misconception would be unfair.

Unlike Ilyas, who goes about referencing historical events he was alive for no matter the setting or crowd, Ceres keeps her immortality to herself. The only people who know are her employers due to her mutant license and the X-Men. To her roommate, his immortality has always been out of his control— a mere side-effect of his powers. But for Ceres, her lack of aging is a reminder of the darkest moment in her life. One doesn't make a deal with a witch unless they are truly desperate.

Once she tells him this, there's no going back. Even if Steve walks away from her after she reveals her past and powers, they'll be inexplicably linked forever.

Steve is patient as they walk further from the pond. He doesn't rush her, doesn't ask questions before she's ready, doesn't try to fill the silence with small talk. It seems he recognizes that she's trying to gather her thoughts and respects that. Not only is he good at telling stories, but he's apparently a good listener, too.

"I mentioned before that I'm from Nepal," Ceres finally decides to start with. "I was born in Kathmandu on September 29, 1938."

She notices the moment the information hits Steve. His expression transforms into one of perplexity— his brows furrow, a frown pulls down his lips as he quickly does the math, his eyes squint. He looks at her, but doesn't interrupt to ask her what the hell she means or if she's joking.

Her mouth twists into a wry grin as she meets his gaze. "Yeah. It's my seventy-fourth birthday next week."

"Wow," Steve says with a blink. "You, uh... you age well. Doctors must be dying to know your anti-wrinkle treatment."

Another joke. And he isn't running away or judging her. So far, so good.

"Yeah, dermatologists hate me." Ceres manages a grin. "I'm a mutant. I'm not sure if you heard of us— we weren't very open with our powers back in your day, but in the sixties, a group called the X-Men was formed. Also at that time, I had recently moved to America... and things weren't great for Asian immigrants."

Her gut twists even further as she recounts the story of the great power outage that affected most of the nation in 1965. How she'd been hungry, barely able to afford rent, and sick from something she caught after immigrating. Agatha Harkness and her promise to help her if Ceres agreed to assist in exchange. The bargain that was left unpaid.

"My powers are solar-related," Ceres explains. She holds out her palm, allowing a small amount of light to pool into her hand, eventually forming a tiny sun that floats above her skin. Then she extinguishes it and slides her hand into her pocket before any civilians notice. "But my immortality... that's a curse. Until I save enough people. I spent almost forty years with the X-Men and that curse is still here, so I guess I just... gave up trying."

Steve's brows are still knitted together in thought as he processes all of the information she's sharing with him. "So the day of the invasion—"

"I would've been okay," she confirms with a nod. "It would've hurt like a bitch, but I would've lived. The rocks would have missed me, or fallen on a part of me that wouldn't have been fatal. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. It's just — I don't usually go around yelling to people that I was a superhero."

"No, no," Steve says, shaking his head adamantly, "don't apologize, please. I completely understand. Most people, when they meet me, already know me. If I had the choice, I would do the same as you." He scratches his ear, his former shyness creeping back onto his face. "I am glad that I was there, though. I'm sure it would've hurt like a bitch as you said."

Ceres fakes a gasp. "He swears! I need to write this in my notebook to document the moment. Hang on."

Steve rolls his eyes as she makes a dramatic show of digging into her pocket for her paper and pen. She flips to a blank page and writes, "23 Sept 2012: Steve says 'bitch', other curse words yet to be discovered'".

"Nice," he says dryly. "You can add 'shit' in there, too."

"Got it." Ceres humors him by actually writing it down: "Also knows 'shit' (added per request)".

She looks up from her notes to see him trying to fight off a grin. Her stomach doesn't feel as tight anymore. In fact, she's the freest she's felt in ages, no longer suffering with the burden of watching everything she says to make sure she doesn't slip up. She's even able to smile at him and feel assured that he's not going to judge her for her past.

"What's the notebook for?" Steve questions.

"Lots of things," Ceres replies with a shrug. "Grocery lists, things I come across that I want to research later, songs I overhear that I like, events I want to record in my journals at home. I have a lot of those— helps keep track of my personal history."

"That's a good idea. I keep trying to remember everything that people tell me I should know, but there's so much to catch up on."

"I can give you a notebook of your own," Ceres offers. "I have a bajillion at my apartment. My roommate keeps threatening to throw them out if I don't use them soon." She gnaws at the inside of her cheek, mulling over her next thought before asking, "I could show you our place? I live in Brooklyn, so we'll have to take the subway, but I think you should meet my roommate. He's even older than you— possibly both of us combined."

"Sure." He nods. "Don't want him throwing out your notebooks."

They've since wandered onto a stray side path while talking, so Ceres guides them back to the main sidewalk and back toward the closest subway station outside of Central Park. She does notice that a few people do double-takes when they recognize Steve, but for the most part, they're left alone. She never thought she would be taking a casual walk with an Avenger or even inviting one to her apartment. Oh, God. She hopes Ilyas isn't smoking in there.

Just to be sure, she pulls out her phone and slides out the keyboard to send him a text.

SUNBURN: Captain America coming over. Make sure you have pants on and nothing is on fire when we get there

Ilyas replies lightning fast, which is a surprise. Usually he takes one to two business days to reply or doesn't bother doing it at all.

GRUMPY OLD MAN: Getting laid? About time

Her face flushes. Ilyas knows she doesn't indulge in casual hookups like he does. He doesn't get romantically attached and prefers to do it for the thrill. Ceres... well, she's barely had the desire to do that, yet.

SUNBURN: No :p Told him I'm cursed and he didn't run away

GRUMPY OLD MAN: Not too late for that. Maybe he'll abandon you on the train.

After that vote of confidence, Ceres puts her phone back into her jeans pocket and tries to push Ilyas's words out of her mind. He might be right— maybe Steve is truly freaked out by her story and he's just being polite.

"I have a question."

Oh, God. Here it comes. "Yeah?"

"Those sunglasses." Steve points to the ones sitting on top of her head. "Do you actually need them, or are they just for show?"

Ceres blinks. Then, surprised and feeling foolish that her stomach had dropped in suspense for a question so adorably silly, she laughs.

"You caught me. They're just for show."

______

a/n:

i know this chapter was a bit short in comparison to the others, but i want to post more chapters in contrast to having fewer, but longer, ones. this will allow me to (hopefully) update faster!

but yaay! steve knows the truth about ceres being old. bonding is happening. and we love to see it <3

thank you for reading, and i hope you've had a fantastic day! your support on this book means the world to me and i can't thank you enough for every read, vote, and comment :))

—kristyn

( word count: 2.4k )