Prelude Three
“You know, none of this will do you any good if you don’t talk to me.”
Alya never wanted to go to therapy.
Actually, she flat out refused.
But because of her small stature, she was no match for Steve.
The blonde man refused to argue with her about the matter and simply scooped her up, tucking her under her his arm, and carried her just like that all the way to the psychologist’s office.
He gave her the option to walk on her own, but the twelve year old refused to take it. Steve didn’t really care because she was heading to that appointment regardless of the way she felt and carrying her made the trip a lot quicker.
While carrying her, he reassured her that everything was going to be alright and he would be right outside waiting for her to finish up.
Several sessions in, and Alya wasn’t convinced that this would be any good for her.
So she kept her mouth shut and occupied her time playing with her shoelaces.
“I think it’s time for the kid gloves to come off, don’t you?” The therapist, Imogene, continued her thought. After analyzing Alya for the past few weeks, she'd been able to get a slight read on her. It looked like the twelve year old would do a lot better without her beating around the bush. “Tell me, how are you doing in your mother’s absence?”
Alya couldn’t say that she was surprised by the question. Actually, she was more surprised that it took this long to ask it.
“Fine. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She shrugged.
In a way, Karasi's death prepared her for something like this. Losing a mother was no easy feat, but losing two was devastating.
Somehow, Alya managed.
“You know, I lost my mother, too.” The woman thought that if she opened up a little bit, then Alya might feel more comfortable doing so as well.
A little give and take could go a long way.
“You did?” And she was right, because Alya perked up and looked a lot more receptive than she did three seconds ago. “How old were you?”
“I was around your age.” Imogene smiled softly. “And I thought the world was going to end. I couldn’t get out of bed for weeks and even when I did, I felt like a someone else was occupying my body because I couldn’t be the one in control. Do you ever feel like that?”
“Yes.” Alya’s lower lip trembled and she halted its movement by biting down on it. “I like to sleep a lot.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because sometimes I dream about her.” Alya admitted something she wouldn’t dare utter to her father or her uncle. “And everything is normal and we’re happy……she talks to me and she holds me…..and I can hear her heartbeat.”
It seemed like every night, she'd have a dream with Natasha in it. But she never remembered that they were dreams at the time, they always seemed so real.
Sometimes they were at the Tower, other times, they were at the Compound, or even in the trailer in Norway.
But they were always happy.
The dreams felt so real that every time that she reached out to touch her mother, she actually felt the warmth of her skin and she could heart the beating of her heart against her ear. Her mother's soft hands would brush the hair out of her face the way she always did and press gentle kisses to her face.
And for the time being, everything felt okay.
“And then you wake up?” Imogene inquired gently.
“And then I wake up.” Alya momentarily stared off into space before snapping right back to reality. "And she's gone."
“How does that make you feel?”
“Sad.” Alya grew quiet again. “I never got to say goodbye….not even in my dreams.”
Waking up from every dream felt like she was forced to grieve Natasha all over again as if it were the very first time.
“Have you ever talked to your father about this?”
“No. I can handle it.” She shook her head.
If there was one thing that Alya was grateful Dreykov drilled into her head, it was that she was made of marble.
Because she could just keep repeating that like a mantra until she felt it was true.
Bucky didn't need to know about any of this. He had his own problems to deal with.
The hearings were taking up most of his time anyway and she didn't really feel comfortable talking to him about this kind of stuff.
He was her father, but she didn't really know him.
“It’s natural to feel pain after a loss. Especially if it was someone you loved dearly.” Imogene assured her.
“How long did it take you to….?”
“To get back to normal?” She finished for her. “Nothing was ever the same, but it did get better.”
“How?”
“Well….I started to look at old pictures and I’d talk about her with my family. One day I found her favorite perfume and I started to wear it so that I’d smell like her.”
“You talked about her?”
“Sure.’ Imogene grinned. “It keeps her memory alive…..and if you’re not ready to talk, then you can write everything down as you remember it.”
“I like that idea.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Imogene reached over into her desk and picked up a pretty looking journal, handing it Alya. “I figured since you weren’t the most talkative during our sessions that you might want to write things down, so I picked this up for you.”
“Thank you….it’s pretty.” Alya’s fingers grazed over the leather of the empty book, tracing over the metal of the clasp shaped like a butterfly that held it closed. One the side, there was a pen attached.
“You’re very welcome. Does this mean you won’t have to be dragged through my office next time?” Imogene asked with a smirk.
But all Alya gave her in return was a smirk of her own.
“How was it?” Steve asked Alya as she skipped towards him.
If he was being honest, her demeanor was leagues different now than it was the past several sessions. If it was possible, Alya looked lighter, as if a portion of an invisible weight was taken from her.
“Fine. Miss Imogene wants to talk to you.” She pointed out.
Steve noticed the woman was following loosely behind his niece and nodded, waiting for her to get close enough to have a conversation. “Good Afternoon, ma’am.”
“Good Afternoon, Captain Rogers.”
“Oh, please, Steve is fine.”
“Then Imogene will do just as well.” The woman chortled.
“Fair enough." Steve relaxed a bit. "How’s she doing?”
“I think we made a breakthrough today.” She told him, glancing at Alya who was flipping through her new journal in excitement. “She opened up to me and we’re making a bit of progress.”
She knew that this was only the beginning, but also wanted to celebrate the progress that Alya made today. Speaking to a stranger wasn't easy, especially knowing that the stranger was being paid to listen.
“Good.” The man let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “It’s been really hard on her and I just want her to be okay.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time.” She sent him a gentle smile of comfort. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and she’ll come out of this stronger…..and be prepared for her to push boundaries while you figure out your new dynamic.”
That was another thing that he and Bucky had to look out for.
Alya wasn't usually one to push boundaries, but now that her world had been flipped upside down, she was going to have to find her place in it again.
“Thank you.” Steve shook her hand before turning her attention back to his niece. “Alright, Little Bear, it’s time to go. Say ‘bye’ to Miss Imogene.”
“Bye.” Alya waved shyly, prompting Steve to lift her up and set her on his hip where she immediately rested her head.
“What do you say, we go for some ice cream?”
“Yay!”
“Does Baba still have to go to court?”
After her therapy session, Steve thought it would be a good idea to have Alya burn off some energy, so he took her to Central Park. Despite the freezing cold weather, neither one of them seemed to mind, both needing to feel a bit of normalcy.
“Yeah, Buddy, he does.” Steve told her. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What is it?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing with all of this. We haven’t really been talking as much as we used to. I’ve missed hearing your sweet voice, Buddy.”
He figured that most of that was his own fault. He'd been so busy trying to help both Bucky and Alya, that his time split. He spent a lot of his time with Bucky in court, testifying on his behalf and, as a result, the only real time he could spend with Alya was right before bed when they were both exhausted.
“I miss Mama.” Alya told him. “Sometimes I don’t talk ‘cause I miss her too much.”
“I know you miss her, Pal.” Steve stopped walking and knelt down in front of her. “I miss her, too. It’s gonna be okay, though. I promise. You’re not alone.”
“But what about when you move out?”
There was never a time where Steve wasn't living in close proximity. He was always either on the same floor, or, at least, in the same building. That was always a comfort to Alya because it meant that he always there.
The thought of him not being there was scary for her to conceptualize and she dreaded the day that he would decide it was time to pack his things and go.
“I’m not moving out anytime soon and when I do, you’ll have your dad.” Steve told her, trying to gauge her response. “And it’s not like I’m gonna disappear. I’ll still be there.”
“But not like now.”
“Because you need me right now in a way you probably won’t need me once you and your dad get to know each other. But if you still feel this strongly about it when the time comes, I’ll talk to your dad, okay?”
“Okay.……Uncle Steve?”
“Hm?”
“Have you heard from the twins?”
Alya tried her best not to think of her siblings too often, but with every day that passed, the separation became more and more obvious.
What she wouldn't give just to hear Pietro call her his little mouse again....
“I have.” He nodded, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. “They told me to tell you that they love you and they miss you.”
“But they’re not coming home?” She gathered.
“They’ll come home eventually, Princess. They just have some things to figure out right now.”
“Here.”
Alya looked up to see Serena holding something out to her. Taking a closer look, she saw that it was a single cigarette. The white wrapping with the tan filter was a dead giveaway.
“I don’t smoke.”
“I know….” The blonde sat down next to her as she lit up a stick of her own. “I just figured with everything that’s happened, you might want to wind down a little.”
“Why do you even care?” Alya scoffed. “You're always picking on me.”
“Sorry.” Alya almost choked on her own saliva because Serena never apologized to anybody. “I haven’t been having the best time either. Things are tense at home and I took it out on you. I kind of wanted to talk to you and see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine.” Alya shrugged.
“You’re not fine. Nobody’s fine.” Serena took a drag, blowing out the smoke with such elegance that Alya was sure she’d been doing this for a while now. “It’s okay not to be fine…..but you’ve gotta let somebody know when it’s too much. I know your dad and your uncle are still around, maybe talk to them……I’m seeing a therapist, you know.”
“You are?” The twelve year old couldn't believe this the girl in front of her was the same one that took pleasure out of bullying her.
But a lot changed in one way or another and everyone was different now. Serena seemed a lot more subdued and a lot less willing to cause conflict now than before.
“Yeah, she helps me understand how I’m feeling.” The older girl puffed once again. “Helps me list things I can do to make myself feel……in control.”
“Like smoking?” Alya's eyes widened because she didn't remember Imogene recommending anything like smoking.
“No.” Serena chortled, seeming much older than she was. “I came up with that one on my own. You ever see Peaky Blinders?”
"No." Alya shook her head honestly. She'd heard about it, but she'd never seen the show. "I'm too young."
She'd brought it up to Clint one day and he pretty much banned her from it all together for one reason or another.
Apparently, it wasn't appropriate for someone her age.
“Well, my mom likes it." Serena added. "And they all smoke....right down to the little one. Do you know why?"
"Why?"
"Because it helps with stress." The blonde told her. "It works for them and it works for me."
The first time Serena picked up a cigarette, she had to admit that she was a little nervous about what it might do to her. But the ache in her chest outweighed her fears and she expertly lit it up, having learned enough from what she saw on television.
The first couple of drags made her feel ill, but when she got the hang of it, she felt the ease of her nerves as they began to settle.
“I don’t think I wanna smoke.” Alya knew Serena turned thirteen the month before, but she didn’t think that was grown enough to start puffing cigarettes. The Peaky Blinders were adults, but even at their age, she didn't think it was a good habit to start. “Does it really calm your nerves?”
“Not as well as—” Serena cut herself off as if she were stopping herself from saying something too personal, or something that Alya wasn’t ready to hear. “Yeah….Tell you what…” She dug into her bag and pulled out a full box of Marlboros and a nearly empty box of matches. “Take these. You don’t have to use ‘em, but you’ll have ‘em if you need ‘em.”
Alya allowed the older girl to place the items in her hand, watching as she stood up.
“Sorry about your mom, Kid.”
“Sorry that you’re sad.”
“We’ll be okay, you and me. I know it.”