Chapter Three: Show Monkey
The gym had always been Steve's sanctuary. A place
where he could unleash the storm of emotions raging within him without fear of
judgment or reprisal. He attacked the punching bag with relentless fury, each
blow a cathartic release of pent-up frustration.
Images of Sarah's first photoshoot after leaving her
old life behind flashed through his mind, her beauty transcendent as she posed
for the camera with effortless grace and poise. He had seen the pictures
plastered across billboards and magazine covers, each one more breathtaking
than the last. But as beautiful as those photos were, they paled in comparison
to the real-life vision of Sarah that haunted his thoughts.
It only served to fuel his rage, the knowledge that
she was so close yet so far out of reach driving him to the brink of madness.
He remembered a particular interview where he himself had been in the hot seat,
forced to answer questions about his relationship with Sarah and her sister,
Sharon.
"Me and Sarah? No, no, no. That's not...
We're friends. We're just very good friends," he had answered the
interviewer, his words coming out stilted and forced.
And when asked about his relationship with Sharon,
he had replied politely, "Yes. Sharon and I are very happy, thank you."
The memories burned like hot coals in his mind,
fuelling the fire of his rage until almost consuming him completely. With a
primal roar of frustration, Steve delivered one final blow to the punching bag,
sending it flying off its hinges with a resounding crash. Sand spilled from the
torn seams of the bag, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake as it
collided with the far wall.
Steve unwrapped the bandages from his hands, fingers
trembling with fatigue. As the layers fell away, angry purple bruises bloomed
across his knuckles. A small, grim smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The
pain felt right, felt earned. Each throb of his battered hands was a sort of
penance… punishment for sins he couldn't quite name but felt bone-deep. He
flexed his fingers, relishing the sharp ache that pierced up his arms.
For those few moments of controlled agony, Steve
felt a fleeting sense of absolution, unaware that he was caught in a cycle of
self-destruction masquerading as therapy. He glanced up as Fury entered the
gym, his presence unexpected.
"Apologies for disrupting your training,"
Fury said, his tone strangely hesitant.
Steve raised an eyebrow at Fury's unusual
expression, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Fury was not one to
beat around the bush, which could only mean that whatever he had to say was of
the utmost importance… or unpleasant.
"It's fine," Steve replied, using the
interruption as an excuse to take a much-needed break. He wiped the sweat from
his brow, his gaze never leaving Fury's face.
"I'm here to remind you that you're
contractually obligated to–"
"Yes, I know what I signed up for."
Steve had grown weary of the endless bureaucracy and
red tape that seemed to plague his every move since accepting the arrangement.
Fury nodded, handing Steve a folder. "Our
lawyers would like you to review this revised contract and return it before
morning.”
Steve accepted the folder, quickly skimming the contents.
As he reached the end, his eyes narrowed in disbelief at the attached NDA.
“A non-disclosure agreement?” he scoffed, tossing
the folder back. “I don’t think so.”
“You knew what this would entail, Cap. You knew
you’d potentially have to do things you don’t want to. I’m not saying it’s
easy, but…”
"I was a show monkey once," Steve stated
bitterly, "I'm not doing it again."
Fury's expression softened at Steve's words, a
flicker of understanding passing between them. He knew all too well the toll
that fame and celebrity had taken on Steve in the past, and he respected his
reluctance to relive those painful memories.
"I’m sorry," Fury said simply, his tone
respectful. "But you should know that this isn't negotiable. The NDA is a
requirement for all parties involved."
Steve clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening as he
met Fury's gaze. "If you’re really sorry, you’ll get me out of this… Or
find someone else to play these games.”
Later, the Avengers Compound buzzed with
anticipation as paparazzi and fans crowded outside, their voices blending into
a cacophony of excitement and chaos. Word had spread like wildfire that Sarah
Carter would be taking up residence at the compound, much to the delight of nearby
fans.
The day before, Tony had briefed the team on Sarah's
impending arrival, warning them to expect chaos from fans and paparazzi alike.
Sam beamed with excitement at the prospect, his enthusiasm contagious as he
looked forward to the inevitable pandemonium.
"Never been happier to be a part of the
team," Sam exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Beside him, Bucky chuckled silently at the
sentiment.
"Sam, Bucky, let's be on our best behaviour,
shall we?" Tony reprimanded, his tone stern as he reminded them of the
importance of maintaining order in the midst of the frenzy.
Steve, however, couldn't muster the same enthusiasm
as his teammates.
"This place is gonna be a circus!" he
exclaimed. “How is anyone supposed to get any work done around here?” But his
words rang hollow, his true concerns lying much deeper than mere logistical
chaos.
As he stood outside near the entrance, he watched
with a heavy heart as a sleek black limousine pulled up to the front of the
compound. The fans erupted into cheers and chants as Sarah emerged from the
car, her expression melancholic.
She struggled at first to navigate through the
throng of people, but the doorman and other aides quickly stepped in to assist,
ensuring her safe passage from the car to the foyer. As she disappeared from
view, Steve couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by sadness at the mere sight of
her.
Once inside, Sarah turned around, her gaze locking with
Steve's across the crowded room. There was a fleeting moment of recognition
between them, a silent acknowledgment of the painful history that bound them
together.
"Welcome home, Sarah," he said under
his breath.
************************
Tony stood at the podium, his expression carefully
composed as he addressed the gathered press at the Avengers Compound.
"Today, we welcome our beloved Sarah Carter
back into the fold," he read from his notes, his voice projecting with
authority.
But before he could continue, Christine Everhart, a
journalist known for her tenacity and sharp wit, interrupted with a pointed
question.
"I'm sorry. The black sheep of the family
becomes a Hollywood starlet, then suddenly decides to quit the glam life to be
an Avenger? I don't buy it," she remarked, her tone dripping with
scepticism.
Tony's jaw clenched at the remark, a flicker of
annoyance crossing his features as he fought to maintain his composure.
"Thanks for that, Christine," he replied through gritted teeth at her
blatant disregard for decorum. "Firstly, she's not 'quitting the
glam life', nor is she becoming an Avenger.”
“Then what is she doing at the compound?”
But Christine remained unmoved by Tony's words, her
scepticism evident in the tilt of her head and the curve of her lips.
"Yeah, that’s touching, Uncle Tony. But we'd like to hear it
from her.”
For a moment, Tony was left speechless, caught off
guard by Christine's relentless interrogation. He knew that Sarah would have to
address the press eventually, but he had hoped to shield everyone from the
scrutiny for just a little while longer. Now, it seemed that his carefully laid
plans had been derailed, leaving him scrambling to pick up the pieces.
Watch Episode 3 Here:
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