" Do you believe you've improved since our previous session?"

The one question she's been dreading for ages.

Lauren sits on the couch in her therapist's office, her finger nails digging into to soft upholstery. She inhales deeply through her nose as her eyes flicker up to meet the woman in front of her.

" No."

" And why do you think that is?"

Lauren remains still. Her eyes stay locked on Dr. Raynor. Her breath stills, her mind rolling through thoughts while her mouth refuses to voice even a single one.

" Why did you assault Captain Walker?"

And with that, she scoffs.

Captain.

The word sits in her brain like a parasite.

" He didn't press charges," Lauren announces, " I don't see the issue."

" The issue is you assaulted an active duty member of the United Stated military," Dr. Raynor says, " The government was only willing to overlook your history because of your relations to Captain Rogers... but it won't save you every time."

Lauren's breathing remains calm, almost as if she's asleep, but her eyes stay focused on their target, as if she's hunting. As her fingers curl into the arm rest, the material around her begins to turn to black as a gentle firm ignites along her fingertips.

" Mrs. Rogers... are you currently using your powers?"

" No."

" Then show me your hand."

Without hesitation, she does exactly that. Lauren shows the doctor her left hand, her barren left hand with no sign of a flame. Dr. Raynor looks down to couch to see there's nothing wrong with it. No scorch marks. Nothing.

And while it appears that her hand is stretched outwards, in reality, in never left the couch. It still remains on the armrest burning a hole into the Ikea collection.

" Do you believe you have a purpose in life?"

The one question that makes her blink for the first time since the session started.

She blinks again, and yet keeps the rest of her body still in its place.

" Excuse me?" Lauren asks.

" Since the passing of your husband... what have you done with your life?" Dr. Raynor asks, " Do you believe you have a purpose in life?" Lauren's jaw tightens, " You no longer have S.H.I.E.L.D.... or the Avengers. For the first time in your life, you are no longer surrounded by other people. You are no longer part of a team... so I'm asking you... do you believe you have a purpose in life?"

She blinks once more, her body which was was tense and on guard slowly begins to seep into the plush pillows of the couch as her mind ponders the question.

A question she doesn't care for, but a question she does not have an answer for.

All while she thinks, her eyes stay locked on Dr. Raynor's. She reaches within the depths of her powerful mind in order to draw up something, anything that would absolve her of this question and get it out of the way.

But she can't.

She can't come up with anything.

She once had Natasha, where she was a sister. That's gone.

She once had S.H.I.E.L.D., where she was Agent Stone. That's gone.

She once had the Avengers, where she was Mage. That's gone.

And she once had Steve Rogers, where she was a wife. That's gone too.

All of the things that were important to her are now nothing more than ash. Dust. Everything reduced to atoms, for none of it truly exists anymore.

And despite feeling like her world is crashing in from above her and will destroy her at any moment, she doesn't show it on the outside. She keeps it all within her mind as her body continues to project its illusion.

" Yes... I do," Lauren says, finally breaking the gaping silence.

" What is it?"

" To survive."

" That's not a purpose."

" Isn't it?"

" It's not."

" Agree to disagree."

The two women stay seated at their crossroads. Lauren's closed off answers are not making the doctor happy, but there's nothing she can do if her client won't listen. And she knows this one won't back down. Dr. Raynor closes the notebook resting on her lap and places it down on the table by her side. Lauren observes this and sees that it's time for their session to end, so she instantly gets up and walks towards the door. As she exits, Dr. Raynor looks back at the couch, now seeing its true nature. The entire side of the couch burnt to a crisp with little trails of smoke wigging in the air.

Lauren shoves open the door to the restroom and walks over to the sink. She places her hands on the cool white basin as she leans forward and closes her eyes. Her head tilts forward as she inhales deeply, allowing the air to enter her lungs in an attempt to soothe her lungs. She continues a pattern of inhaling and exhaling as her hands tightly grip the sink. With one final exhale, her eyes flutter open and she slowly lifts her head up to gaze into the mirror. She expects to be met with her own reflection, but only comes face to face with that of her lost love. The man frozen in ice for nearly 70 years gazes back at her through the mirror, looking as young and handsome as he did they day they became husband and wife.

" Steve?" She gasps in disbelief as he smiles at her, the corners of his eyes showing their little wrinkled bits.

Alas, her grip on the sink tightens to the point where it breaks under her grasp. The debris ends up hitting the mirror and shatters the glass. She looks back up at the mirror, but this time sees her only reflection in the cracked pieces of the mirror.

" No," She whispers as a sob forms in her chest, " No, no, no, no, no" she steps closer to the mirror and brings her hands up to touch the broken pieces, " Please... please come back to me... Steve... Steve?" her fingers cut themselves on the broken mirror, causing blood to spill from her fingertips as tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

Her hands begin to shake as she continues to feel around the shattered glass. She doesn't care how many cuts it gives her, all she cares about is him. And seeing as he hasn't come back, she stares at her reflection in disbelief, staring at the multiple reflections the mirrors give her, casting her as broken and in pieces. The lights overhead flicker as her jaw trembles, her body filling with dread, her mind desperately attempting to break free of these earthly bounds. The building shakes beneath her feet as the foundation grows unsteady from the darkness inside her. It fills her veins, it invades her mind to take advantage of this delicate state.

A blaring, distressed scream escapes from within her lungs as her eyes shut slightly and her body folds over. The tiles within the restrooms begin to fall of the wall and break as they make contact with the floor. The cries leave her body as she feels the pain and loss all over again. The emotions she's been suppressing for so long finally break free. She collapses to her knees, eyes still closed as the room around her falls apart, everything around her on the brink of destruction.

The sound of the restroom door opening seems to pull Lauren out of her trance and bring her back to reality, or at least one of them. Her head snaps towards the sound to see a woman entering the restroom and walk into a stall. The room itself appears to be fine. It appears untouched. The tiles are still on the wall, the lights are strong, and her head circles back to the mirror to see it us unbroken. She sees her reflection in the mirror, the bags under her eyes prominent, her hands still resting on the sink that does not contain a single imperfection.

All of it... its as if none of it happened. All of it was fake... so it would seem.

As she gazes back into her reflection, she hears a faint whisper. Something that presents itself as lustrous and irresistible. Her jaw clenches as her lungs take in a deep breath, and with the blink of an eye, she leaves the restroom and is back within the walls of her apartment.

A giant gust of air leaves her lungs and allows her chest to lay flat. It leaves her like a spirit leaving its host. She attempts to shake off the encounter and go about her day, business as usual, but as she enters the kitchen, she feels as though she's not alone.

Lauren reaches behind the metal trash bin and grabs the gun that lay hidden. She raises it to her front with both arms, staring down the barrel as her body carefully moves around the apartment as if it is a minefield. Her back hugs the wall as she comes across a corner, and in one fluid motion she turns the corner with her gun in front of her, ready to shoot anyone who stands in her way, and yet the hallway turns up empty.

With a frustrated sigh, Lauren sets the gun down on a table in the hallway. Hovering above that table is yet another mirror, and despite everything, she turns her head to gaze at the reflection. She looks into her own eyes, but it feels far from normal. She sees herself, but feels as though someone else is staring back at her.