The door to the rooftop clicked shut behind her with a soft snick, cutting off the hum of the tower.
Alex stepped into the open air, finally letting her lungs expand. The city stretched below, glittering, endless, but up here, it was quiet. Not silent, but calmer. Distant sirens, the thrum of traffic, the occasional gust of wind brushing against her face.
She walked slowly toward the edge, the rooftop garden's stone path guiding her between planter boxes and soft, glowing lights. She found a bench half-hidden by a line of tall grasses and sat, the cool metal grounding her as she dropped her bag to the ground.
Only then did she let her shoulders fall.
The meeting with Fury had left her rattled, even if she didn't show it. He hadn't threatened her. Hadn't barked orders or told her what to do. But there was something about him, the weight in his words, the way he saw right through her walls without trying to tear them down.
It was... unsettling.
He wasn't wrong.
That's what bothered her the most.
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin lightly. The breeze tousled her hair, and her eyes scanned the skyline without really seeing it.
You still think. Still feel.
Why did that sound like a liability?
Back in the alleys, the rooftops, the places no one looked, emotion was dangerous. It got you hurt. Killed. Caught. She learned how to shut it off, how to keep her face blank and her pulse steady.
But here? These people, they felt. Natasha, Clint, even Fury in his own buried way. They made room for grief and anger, for guilt and regret.
And Alex... she didn't know how to carry that.
Not yet.
Her fingers brushed the tracker device still clipped to the inside of her coat. She hadn't touched it since pressing it. She told herself it was just a panic move, a moment of weakness.
But now, sitting here alone, she realized it was something else too.
It was a thread.
A tether.
She closed her eyes.
What do I do with it now?