[  PSA: I swear I don't watch many foreign-language films but this one, 'Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara' is on Netflix and by far, one of the best I've watched! the scene above is just so fucking funny, y'all, you have no idea and i couldn't stop myself *shrug* ] 

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02  x  from right to wrong

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ONE YEAR AGO.

New Jersey, New York City

Sometimes, Etta found it hard to believe that this beautiful specimen of a male had come to be her husband. Kabir Sinha had the face that would stop in your tracks. He got used to that, the unexpected hiatus in a person's tangible eloquence when they studied his way supported by blundering with a detached gaze and a jittery laugh. Despite all the timeliness that came his way he was a one-woman-man who prized candid and intellectual dialogue above svelte figures and tight dresses. He was attractive alright, but within he was excellent.

Right then, Kabir was resembling a brown-skinned Adonis, stormy green eyes that was making her weak at the knees. She had to convince herself that he wanted no one else but her; that her love was enough.

"You're late."

Etta let out a weakened laugh as she dropped her coat and keys by the door. She had quite the day at the lab, very few visitors and neck-deep in completing a few thesis statements by college seniors for their final year projects. By the time she had finished, her phone had blown out with at least a hundred missed calls and messages from her impatient man and fearing to take the next call. She had continued to procrastinate in calling back until she got home.

"And you're mad."

"I am," his lips moved to the side of his face, the chiselled, granite features contorting to a grimace. His thick, Indian accent seeped in, sounding marginally British. "I thought it was a DIY dinner night."

"And I didn't forget," she sang under her breath as she put down the grocery bag of items over the kitchenette by the entrance. 

Their little, high-rise apartment was modest, eccentric and a microcosm of comfort. Everything was a clusterfuck, Kabir was unnervingly messy, but she adored their little banters on cleanliness. Just then, she spotted three lone bottles of beer by his leg that was propped up on the coffee table.

"I can't believe you," she protested, walking towards him to give the place a sniff. It smelt of stale cheese and feet; her nose scrunching in disgust. "You didn't shower!"

"I swear I did," he pinched the skin of his throat in a promise, "I think it's you, Jaan."

Would Etta ever get over the completeness when he called her an endearment in his mother tongue? Never in a million years. She had searched it up on the web; meri Jaan translated to "my life" in literal. And there was nothing more passionate she needed than a griping from him about her being late.

"You know, you should get out of the house more," Etta chided. "Just because you don't get any assignments does not mean you should collapse our apartment to shit."

"You," he grumbled, thinking for a beat, "smell like shit."

She sighed. "Kabir."

"Here, let me check." He tucked his tongue into his cheek while rising from the couch. His smug smirk captured Etta's breath in her throat. Regardless of the laugh that left her when he brushed the tip of his nose over the length of her shoulder as if inhaling a loaf of bread, she pushed him off with all her strength. He was a good head taller than her but, she liked it like that. 

"Such a douche," she murmured.

"Gimme a kiss."

"No, get off." She pushed him back with a laugh. "Kabir!"

He puckered his lips. "One kiss!"

Kabir's position as a CIA representative which she feared would be too bellicose had proved her wrong; ostensibly he was the most considerate man she had met. Everything they had differed — their thoughts, their tastes, their affiliations. They had faced the ethnic backlash at first but, it Kabir who had been strong-minded in making it work. It flip-flopped here and there yet, they had somehow found their way back to each other. 

There were times when Etta feared for his life, the dangers and fallacies of an operative where unarguably great, and she would have it ignored. What mattered was now, she would think. Now, she was blissfully married and ready to take on the next chapter.

"Yep," he clucked his tongue, sniffing her again. "It's definitely you."

"You can be so rude sometimes," she laughed out loud and sauntered into the bedroom. "I smell great, no thanks to you."

"Or I'm just honest," he had called out to her back. "You reek of detox—okay, wait! Gimme a kiss!"

She flipped him the finger to which he gasped dramatically. "I'll take my stinking ass with me, agent."

She had already showered back in the laboratory unit—thankful for the constituted bathrooms—so she might as well go for a swap. Quickly switching into a pair of shorts and a warm shirt, she caught the sight of Kabir already sifting through the bags of groceries with a disgusted grimace on his distinct features.

"No," he said, bewildered, "Col, no. What the hell is this?"

"What is what?"

"Everything in here is wholemeal," he shook his head in disgust, pointing to the rye flour that I had picked off the shelf instead of the plain. "How in the everloving heck do you expect me—"

"I'm trying to be healthy," she interjected with a teasing smile. "What's wrong with rye-crust pizza?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, his light eyes frowning. "Other than the guaranteed spot in hell."

"Kubs."

"Actually," he corrected in a clipped voice, "this is on the menu in hell. In fact, this is what Hitler eats in hell."

"Stop it," she said tersely, slapping his hands away from the paper bag and pulled out a chocolate bar she had bought for herself. Unwrapping it, she bit into it with a deep sigh. He reached out to grab the snack. 

"Can I—"

She pulled back with a pout. "Get to the chopping, Sinha."

"Absolutely not," he scoffed, pushing the bag away. "I'm calling an exorcist. For you and the shit summoned in here."

"Oh my god, you drama queen," she groaned as he walked past her lounging self on the kitchenette stool and to the coffee table where he found the phone. It didn't take a genius to know he was going to call for pizza, his mercurial mood shifting instantly.

"Finally some good fucking food," he hummed delightfully as he phoned in a number. 

"Take it from Amy Green," Etta winked at him. "A moment on the lips, forever on the hips."

"You take it from Joey Tribbiani," he whispered back, toned down to a hiss. "I'm curvy and I like it."

Etta rolled her eyes in amusement at her dramatist, turning back to the counter to finish the last of her chocolate bar and dump out the contents from the grocery bag. The items thumped down harder than necessary and she stacked it in a neat pile at the corner. When she spotted the protein mix she had purchased for Kabir and his routinely training self, she retained the confusion she had between the trademarks of shakes on the racks. He was so particular about being in shape; not that she minded one bit. 

"Honey, I'm not sure if you—"

There was a tightness in her throat. Her lungs felt as elastic as an over-inflated balloon, just weakening rather than engaging in the following inhalation. All she knew is that seeing Kabir as a fallen heap on the floor robbed her ability to breathe just like it robbed away from her words. When no benefit came from her fighting out his name, fear engulfing her conscience and hitting all other considerations out. Fear defeated her shaking body and leaving her hopeless all over.

∞

PRESENT DAY.

Avengers Compound, 

Upstate New York

Steve Rogers was a hardcore pragmatist. 

According to him, what mattered with the process of saving the world was not how fast we got there, but that we kept on moving in the apt course. There were other ways businesses can be done, on that note, speed would be a mere feature. He would never sacrifice the team, we only won together. 

Fifty years ago, humanity put a man on the moon and made computers that fit into a pocket. Drafted the intact human genome but they couldn't accept the recess to innovation. Creation of superpower was a pipedream when Steve wanted to fight the Great War. He had so many more desires; gender equality, ending starvation and racism. He didn't think that the world would start to orbit around two flawed, radical governmental systems that fought at the expense of the world. 

The minds of humans, Steve realized, were developed by the productions, and totality that equates self-worth in capital, avarice and leadership is depravity to all. All they had was one banana problems and everything seemed to blow up to a big deal. Life was sacred and everyone's worth was infinite. Life was also compact, and to evade death was next to impossible.

Scientist and doctor Colette Foster had rectified the impossible. What was once achieved as a bane to humanity was now a commodity, free to the hands of the immoral. The very serum that pulsed through his veins was in front of him, ready to break all of hell loose.

When Steve watched the awry doctor in that same cell, holding her head between her hands and staring hard at the chains that ran up her arms, he could detect the regret. The fear of having done wrong and the eternal disappointment she would have to carry. Wordlessly, her dark eyes lifted up to look at him as he entered. A look that was designed to give nothing away. 

If one judged Colette, they would instantly take her to be one of the women who had their IQ that shot through the stratosphere. Her tight lips elevated to a tiny smile that was under lock and key when Steve took a seat opposite to her on the table. The tension that controlled her face looked torturing, catch it away and she would redesign it solely to preserve her status quo. With elfin features and chestnut curls, he might even call her 'cute'. The violet bruise sliced through her jaw and it instated him to pass the antiseptic across the table.

Her soft vote of thanks followed as she took a generous dab of the cream and smeared it over her jaw. A slow hiss was poorly concealed.

"You're related to Jane Foster," he initiated a conversation in a low voice. "Sister, I assume."

Colette nodded, her doe eyes falling on the daunting soldier again. He couldn't put a finger on the name of the colour; was it brown or hazel, he wondered. Shaking it off quickly, he listened to her speak in the same stagnant voice. 

"We haven't spoken in a long time," she replied, pushing her shaking fingers into her hair in anxiousness. "I tried to contact her but, my calls kept bouncing."

"So, she doesn't know about," Steve felt odd to talk about her deceased significant other, "him?"

"No," she returned quietly. "It's been over six months. I've not come to terms with... his passing."

Steve remained reticent, hoping she would take his silence as a sign to continue. Colette took a deep breath in, her smile widening a fraction. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her gaze brimming with a dreading beseech. "I know what I've done is atrocious and I deserve imprisonment. But, I—I wanted to save him. Even when I had nothing, I had him."

Steve's light eyes snapped up as if he had been electrocuted. "What?"

"Kabir and I met when I was going through a hard time,' she shared in an evocative voice. She played with edges of her fingers. "I lost my job at Oscorp¹ after Mr Stark liquidated Norman Osborn's assets a few years back."

"You worked for Osborn," he stated, disgruntled at the sound of the national enemy who had been eradicated for good. Colette appeared ashamed which implied her knowledge of his reputation. "What was that like?"

"Where do you think I got the basal ratios for the formulae?" She asked, her brows rising. "Osborn was crooked but, he had connections to some fraudulent sources. HYDRA, AGM², Ezekiel Stane³—the men who chased me the other day—"

"A crime cartel of the East," Steve added, leaning forward in interest. "Go on."

"My research started to fail," she murmured, chewing her cheeks. "I heard from a co-worker about an unlicensed auctioneering of old designs from Oscorp and I got the primary rubrics that belonged to Howard Stark. That's how I cracked the code."

"You stole the formulae?"

"It was me or HYDRA's goons," she grunted. 

"Touche," Steve sighed. "So, what happened next?"

"It started to run," she said in all obviousness. "As I said, I worked with critters first. That's when Frank got to know through Kabir. It was on accident and I thought Frank was volunteering for his best friend. Turns out, I was wrong."

Steve was doubtful. It felt like the doctor was lying through her teeth, flinching when talking about the formulae and managing her composture right after. If anything, he knew not to trust anyone at the blink of an eye.

"Captain?"

"Sorry," he shook himself out of his trance, realizing that he had been staring at her when getting his thoughts through. "Just Steve, ma'am."

"Etta," she replied generously.

"Thank you, Etta," he nodded at her, "I came in here for a different reason, actually."

Etta let out a breathy chuckle. "I think you're falling short of your rep lately."

"Hell, I might be," he answered back, amused. "You're needed back in the lab. Stark's orders."

She bit her lip. "Contingencies of?"

He shrugged, the decision quite apparent. "The serum is unsafe in an unstable environment. We need you to look into it."

∞

ONE YEAR AGO.

Unknown Medical Centre,

New York City

The paralyzing persecution spread through Etta's body like carotids of pain. She clenched her fists as she hesitantly took each step out with trembling toes. Her legs twitched, resisting the impulse to swirl and dash down that dreary, dark corridor; her throat blocked in peril of yelling at the overburdened, bald doctor who apprised Kabir's case futile, and her teeth gritting.

Flames in the shadow of tears prickled her wide hazel eyes, imperilling their bout. She chewed into her cheeks, hard until she tasted the blood on her tongue. The world was falling away. Nonchalantly, her brain pulled up her heels in a troubled walk, haphazardly dumping the advances to the ground with each tormenting tread. Truth tried to penetrate its way into her hyperventilating mind.

Kabir's life was hanging by a loose thread. Or in this case, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Etta was as helpless as she was stupid of preventing it. That was all. Fuck this ALS shit.

Her legs exploded into a bolt outside the hospital doors which gave out a clinical hiss upon her arrival. Behind her, the short footfalls followed close and soon, a short squeeze was delivered to her shoulder. She fell into the muscular body, collapsing into fits of silent cries and his warm hand stroking her back.

'Hey,' Kabir murmured, 'we'll be fine.'

This was her home. The world was going to rob her of her home. The sickness showed no sign of changing, he still looked like the tall, dark stranger she had met in a bar all those years ago. That was the scariest part; the fact that it might attack him out of the blue and rob her of her strength to uphold the pain. Fucking ALS.

'We won't,' she cried out softly. 'We really won't.'

He laughed, bringing her deeper into his chest. 'I cannot believe you.'

She looked up at him, shaking her head. She really didn't know how to go about this situation. 'You're gonna leave me in that stupid apartment all by myself. With your stupid guns, your stupid fucking trash—'

He scrunched his nose in sympathy. 'You're a scientist, Jaan. You should know better.'

That was right. Etta was a scientist. In a mere second, the inferno that had struck her pain alight quietened as her thoughts guided her back to reality. What she was contemplating, was to deceive the intention and challenge reasoning which would come at a vague absolution. So is ambiguity. She required this twinge of hope. She needed an "option B" in her life and go against the laws of nature to save what kept her balanced. Hope was alive; it just needed to come to the surface.

A remedy.

That was the biggest middle finger she was going to show at inevitability. Go fuck yourself, ALS.

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CHAPTER GLOSSARY—

Oscorp¹ - You can read 'The Eleventh Hour' to better understand it! Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp and father to Harry Osborn, tried to get his hands Tony Stark's conscious for the superhuman registry in his head but with Elle Stark's interference and Tony's futuristic plans, it was suspended.  

AGM² - Advanced Genocide Mechanics was connected to the bombing in the city of Tabora, in the book 'The Darkest Hour'. 

Ezekiel Stane³ - Son of Obadiah Stane and ex-boyfriend of Elle Stark, the current wife of Tony Stark in this universe. He tried to kill Tony Stark to avenge his father and capture back Elle. You can read 'The Darkest Hour' to find out more!

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