Captain's Log: Steve's Year in the Attic Part Three

"It's sweltering!" Zayn exclaimed. We had made it halfway through summer already, but so far June seemed like the hottest day of the year in whatever territory She lives in. The attic didn't have any ventilation, so the two of us were stuck in a humid and cramped environment, all the while trying not to let our plastic melt. We had taken a break from Zayn's Super Soldier training weeks ago because of the heat, but he had grown restless since then. Now he was pacing around the living space, fanning his gray tank top up and down over his torso. He had already ditched his red sports jacket and he was thinking about forgoing the shoes as well.
"You'll make it worse if you keep moving like that." I mumbled from my insulation bed. I was trying to not grow irritable from the humidity, but it was really starting to get to me.
"So what?" Zayn argued. "It can't get much worse than this. I swear, if Benny were here, he'd agree with me in saying that this is hottest summer I've ever had to survive from up here. At least I was being kept in the basement before! Those few weeks down there were like bliss. Sure, there were lots of spiders, but at was at least five degrees cooler than on the main level of the house!"
The main level of the house sounded tempting. The hardwood floors were certain to be much cooler than the stuffy and miserable attic, and the breeze was especially unforgiving today, as no fresh wind was filtering through our sole crack in the ceiling. And then the house sounded especially tempting when I thought of Elsa again. I would never have used her for her winter powers before, but now I was starting to see everything differently. It's amazing what a little discomfort can do to a person.
But I had to pull myself together. Heat or no heat, nothing was unbearable. I was Captain America, an American soldier. That should be a proud title. And with a proud title such as that, whining about the weather was such a babyish thing to do. A soldier don't whine. A soldier gets things done, even if that includes making alterations to their environment.
I got up determinedly from my bed and reached underneath, pulling out one of the cocktail swords. I went over to the window-hole, pushed a few boxes away to get a better view, and began to chip away at the wall using the tip of my plastic weapon.
Zayn gawked at me. "Steve- what are you doing?!"
"You said this would be a good escape route before..." I grunted, shoving the sword in and out of the wood fibers again and again. "So I'm doing just that."
"You're leaving me?" Zayn choked out.
I pulled my face out of the hole long enough to look behind me. "No. This was your idea. I'm taking you with me. We're making it out together."
A look crossed Zayn's face that made me think he wanted this really badly. He wanted to get out of attic for once and for all and never look back. And what better time to do it than when the temperature was so awful that nobody would bother go outside and see two dolls make their way out through the roof of a suburban house? Plus there was the fact that Zayn would be leaving with me. I was kind of a side-on bonus to whole escaping package.
"But what will the humans think? You're destroying their roof."
"The hole was there to begin with. A little bigger won't make a difference. Besides-" I shoved the toothpick sword into my utility belt and began scraping the sawdust away with my red-gloved hands. "I heard them talking about it from outside when they were trimming the hedges one day. They're getting a roof at the end of this fall."
Zayn was getting huffy. He groaned. "That still doesn't make it right! Why can't we just leave some other way? There's that door by the front and there's well... huh. That's new."
I stopped my work abruptly as I looked towards Zayn again. He was tracing a few lines on the floor with his foot.
"What is it?" I asked, abandoning my post.
"There's something here in the floor. I never noticed it before, but I think that's just because you moved those packages away."
I knelt down and pressed an ear to the floor in the center of the square the lines had created. The wood thinner here, weaker. Obviously it was here for a reason. I sat up again and clapped my hands together to awaken clouds of loose sawdust.
"Zayn... I think you just might have found us a better escape route."
He crossed his arms. "See? You didn't need to tear a hole in their wall after all."
I looked mournfully over at the mistake I'd made. Fortunately it only looked like a rodent had chewed a little bit around the edges of the previous hole, so maybe the humans wouldn't think anything else of it. I felt bad for wrecking property that wasn't mine, but it was hot and I was desperate. And Zayn had told me that he was the one who had dented it by throwing pens up there.
"How do we get out, though?" Zayn asks, his sassy attitude mostly gone.
"I don't know. But I'll think of a way. There has to be a reason this was put here. Maybe it's a door for the humans to get through to come up here."
Zayn looks like he's thinking about something. "You're right. Benny told me that sometimes humans come up that way to take stuff and and out of the attic. But maybe they couldn't do that since all these heavy boxes are in the way." He kicks disgustedly at one of the packages, jingling the contents inside.
"There's always a slim chance they'll try to do that again someday. And when they're distracted, we climb down the ladder the human used to get up here and run back into the house." I finished. Zayn and I had lived nearly a half a year together, long enough for the two of us to become almost mentally synced together. Almost.
"Then there's only one thing left to do," Zayn shoved a box away from the square. "Spring cleaning in the summer!"
I chuckled and we went to work, moving things out of the way. We came across things even Zayn had never seen before, including a Halloween decoration of a skeleton that nearly scared us out of our wits until I found out it wasn't real. Zayn rummaged up some more scented candles for us to "eat" if our plan didn't work and we were stuck in here until December. Overall we were feeling very productive, much too productive to be bothered by the fact that it was probably too hot to be doing this much physical activity.
It was almost too coincidental that the day Zayn and I cleared the entrance was same afternoon when a human tried to get up into the attic that way. After the fact, I'd had my ear up against the floor the whole day, and I was developing a headache because of that, but it was worth it when we heard human voices from below us, stamping around in the garage.
Zayn sucked in his breath in surprise, and I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming with joy and panic. We actually had a chance of getting out. I couldn't believe it. All this time I thought December, come Christmastime again, was when the soldier was coming home, when I'd get to see Elsa and the others once again. But maybe life had different plans for Zayn and me. I wasn't going to question life's decisions at the moment, as my chest beat with anticipation of escape.
"Yes, but- why the attic?" said a muffled female voice from below. I recognized it as She's.
"I have to go replace the mousetraps. Lately I've been hearing two things scratching about up there. I'm starting to think the old ones aren't working anymore." An older, male voice replied.
"Oh. Do you need some help?"
"Yes. Hold the ladder for me when I pull rope and the door comes down."
Zayn's eyes flash my way, and I feel him whimper beneath my hand.
"We have to move. Now." I ordered, and we rolled away from the square and dove behind some totes just in time. With an ancient squeaking noise, the square folds down and becomes an entrance to the attic that neither of us had ever seen before. Our eyes glow with newfound light, but the amazement does not last long, as we must learn to work quickly if we ever want out of here.
A weight creaks up the stairs to the ladder, and the father appears, mousetraps set with a spoonful of peanut butter held carefully in each hand.
"Hey, maybe that can be dinner instead." Zayn whispers to me.
"Quiet," I say firmly back. "Grab onto my arm. I'm getting us out of here."
Zayn latches to my left arm without hesitation and I tried to keep us hidden while increasingly getting closer to the exit. As the man looks to place the mousetraps at spots directly in front of him, we shuffle around to the back.
We watch with unblinking eyes as the man finishes with the mousetraps and begins to crawl back to the ladder. All seems to be going well for the three of us until we hear a delicate popping sound above us, and the only lightbulb for the attic bursts over the human's head.
By now Zayn and I were used to darkness, but the human was not.
"Well, dangit."
"Are you okay up there?" She asks from the garage.
"The lightbulb burst. I'm coming down to change it okay? So watch out."
The man steps down the ladder, one at a time, and we hear his footsteps follow another's out of the garage and a door slams nearby. The door to the house. Our goal.
"Now's our chance," I hissed. "But let me go first. I can navigate a good way to sneak back in."
Zayn looks unsure but he nods, saying nothing. I begin to push myself off the floor, wondering if I can will my legs to get long enough to hit the first rung of the ladder. But on the way, one of my hands slip, and before I know it I'm risking life and lib, dangling by one arm over an eight-foot drop to solid concrete. And the humans could be back at any second.
Zayn must have seen the panic in my eyes, because he stops long enough from leaning over the open square to jump into action. "Stay there, Steve! I'll go get something better!" Zayn whispers, and he darts away towards the living space without waiting for me to respond.
Gulping, I try to swing my legs back and forth to hoist myself back up onto the platform. You'd think a man like Captain America could do it easily with the strength from all of those probable pull-ups he does, but although I had managed to get my other hand back up, my grip was still failing me.
Luckily Zayn returned with his red sport jacket, which he had tossed aside earlier but was now using it as leverage to help me back up. I grabbed onto one of the sleeves as if it were a rope with my weaker hand, and used to other one to push my full weight up enough to scrape my boots on the ground once again. The door to the human's house opened immediately after. We were just in the nick of time, but I didn't really have any doubts that Zayn would save me by then.
"We can still make it." I rasped, reaching for the only escape route.
"No. It's too late," Zayn said, nudging me back into the safety and the hebetude of the attic. I didn't want to go back. We had our chance, and we had to take it. And Zayn had been in here much too long for a hero to pass up the opportunity to save him. "We have to stay here, now."
As much as I hated to think about it, Zayn was right. Only seconds after, the male human returned with a replacement bulb, and he left again just as fast, replacing the wooden door and folded ladder with our freedom.
I could have cried had dolls been able to, I felt so defeated. The world was against me, and I hadn't been strong enough to take on the challenge.
"It's okay, you know," I hear Zayn's voice say, breaking the silence that I hadn't even realized was there. "You did your best. I didn't actually think we were going to get out that time, anyways."
I swallowed. "Sorry I ruined your perfect escape. You probably wanted that really bad."
"To be honest, I'm just thankful that you didn't die and we didn't caught." Zayn says genuinely.
"Yeah," I breathed. "What's a few more months up here?"
"That's the spirit!" Zayn leaves my side and heads over to the table. "You want mousetrap peanut butter for dinner?"
"Sure. Why not?"
But he isn't about to let me off easy. "Okay, but you have to get it yourself. That's the least you can do after I saved your life."
"Yep. I'll get right on it." I grumble, and shove myself reluctantly from the ground, the ground that I'll be feeling beneath me for the next six or so months. As I carefully prod the mousetrap with my cocktail sword for two helpings of peanut butter, I think to myself that the ground of an attic is better than no ground at all.

Defeated but still hopeful,

Steve Rodgers

Captain's Log: Steve's Year in the Attic Part Two

I could hardly believe it when I found out that spring existed.
Of course, I had already known there were seasons. But since I had been found in the winter and I was lost during the same winter, it surprised me that I would ever see a change on the outside from inside a dusty old attic. Since the cold, ice had wedged its way into the crack into the roof and created a larger gap for both Zayn and I to see out of. He was griping that it wasn't yet big enough to fit through, but I was just pleased for more fresh air and light. The scent of honeysuckle was carried along with the warm winds, and the tree in the humans' front yard began budding in shades of light yellow and green.
A lot else besides the weather had changed since last December, too. Zayn and I celebrated the coming of the new year, 2015, by scattered leftover tinsel and glitter all across the living space. Now it was March, and there was still the crunch of sparkle beneath our boots. Besides that, there wasn't much else to do. My heart ached to be back with my friends and family on Valentine's Day, but Zayn prepared us a nice sort-of dinner to help cheer me up. I had thought about using Elsa's rose as a centerpiece for the table, then thought better of it. The rose was our little secret, and if Zayn knew, he might get a little jealous. Since the first day I arrived up here had been so dark, he hadn't been able to see when I slipped Elsa's rose underneath my mattress. He still didn't know it was there. I did my fair share of exploring among the boxes, and Zayn and I both started a little schooling as I taught myself how to write a few things and Zayn wanted to be trained to become a Super Soldier. He's already getting better at long distance and high jumps, which I'm sure real-life Steve would have envied before getting the super serum.
"Ready for our workout?" he asks me eagerly on a particular day that March. He starts to stretch his arms out over his head, just in the way I had shown him, but I felt far from proud of my student. With my attention turned out our makeshift window, my mind was focused on something, or someone else.
And Zayn knew. He crept up behind me and said in a quiet voice, "Tell me about Elsa."
I shrugged halfheartedly. I wasn't really in the mood to speak what was on my mind. "What is there to say?"
"What is she like? How do you view her?"
The corners of my mouth turned upwards slightly, despite my glazed-over eyes. "She's curious above all else. She's never afraid to try something new. She made me see what was possible in the world, at home or abroad. She saved me from solitude in a box, and she introduced me to all of my friends downstairs. Elsa loves chocolate a little too much and sometimes she sleeps in too late, but that's what makes Elsa who she is. She's pretty easygoing for the most part, but I wouldn't doubt that she would defend her loved ones or strongly held beliefs. Elsa tries to make our world a better place for everyone, dolls and humans alike. She has so many great ideas. Granted... not all of them work sometimes, but she never stops trying."
"It sounds like you know a lot about her." Zayn commented.
"I do. But I wish I could learn more about her, too," I could see Elsa's face in my head as I spoke, and that time before I left her for the attic when I had taken her out for a picnic. How joyful she'd been that day. I wondered how she doing now with my absence. "Elsa has these gorgeous big blue eyes that sparkle all the time, even when she's not happy. Her white-blonde hair is always done up in a French braid that rolls down the side of her left shoulder like a cape. She's tall and elegant, and she walks in the sort of way that is quiet, yet approachable," I pushed away from the hole-window and fixed Zayn with a very serious look. "And she has magical hands that glow when she sings."
Zayn blinks, and when he speaks again, he stutters. "I-I know you've told me that before, but t-that's not possible."
"Oh, yes it is. I've seen it," I go back to facing the outside. "Elsa's a singing doll from the Disney Store. She has this switch built into her, and when she flips it on and sings, her hands glow blue and she can create ice and snow out of thin air with a magic I can't really describe."
"Nor can science!" Zayn squeaks, then considers something. "Then again, science can't really explain how we dolls are able to talk and move, either. Maybe having one with magic powers isn't too far-fetched after all."
"No, I guess it isn't."
Zayn is quiet for a minute, and I see him practicing what he wants to say out of the corner of my eye. "Do you love her?"
I sigh. I knew this question was coming. Zayn had to know. "Love is a strong word. But if it leaves you with any sort of consolation, I wouldn't mind going out with her again when I get out of here."
Zayn kicks at some invisible dirt on the floor. "I knew it," he murmured. "I never had a chance."
My breath catches in my throat. This conversation wasn't about Elsa- or me, anymore. "You'll find someone one day, Zayn. As sure as we are to get out of this attic. I can promise you that."
He looks up at me, his smile sheepish and his dark brown eyes pleading. "Even if it isn't a princess?"
I smile warmly. "No, it doesn't have to be. Love does what it wants, after all. But Elsa's a queen, by the way."
"Right. I knew that." Zayn clears his throat.
"There's a rose," I remembered, wondering if my voice was audible enough for Zayn to hear. "It's under my bed. You can go get it out if you want."
"If you're sure," Zayn says, and with some hesitation and as much care as I had first held the gift, takes the flower in hand and brings it over to the window. "It's as cold as ice!"
"It is ice," I point to the rose. "Well, not really. It's just covered with ice. The chill preserves its lifelike appearance. Elsa gave it to me that way because she never wanted the flower to die."
"So she really has these ice powers!" Zayn exclaimed, but then realized what that meant. "And she really loves you."
"I hope so. But I can't be sure yet," I laughed one short breath out my nose. "Maybe next Christmas..."
Zayn coughed. "Um, this Christmas."
I spun around. "This Christmas?"
"Yeah. It's a new year, Steve. It's March now," Zayn motions to the window-hole in the wall. "You saw that it was spring outside. So I guess that means you won't be waiting as long to see Elsa as you thought."
A smile tightened the corners of my lips, my eyes lighting up with newfound hope. "No, I guess not."
But I see how awkward Zayn feels about this. Without even knowing it, I has just friendzoned a person who I had never expected to end up in the same place at the same time with. But I don't think he had expected to have feelings for me, either. I realize it's time to stop moping and move on. With one more pining glance out the window at the most hopeful season, I begin to pull boxes around us this way and that to set up our training course. "So! Ready for your Super Soldier training?"
Zayn's face lights up. "Yeah!"
"Alright. Today we're going to work on overcoming," I bend over at a runner's mark, and Zayn does the same beside me. "Let's see if you can best me at a jumping contest. The first to reach the other end of the attic and back to touch the wall here, wins."
Zayn raises his eyebrows in a "challenge accepted" sort of way. "And the loser?"
"Gets to make dinner tonight." I say mischievously.
"Vanilla scented candles it is, then." said Zayn, already preparing for his defeat.
I laugh and tap my back foot against the ground, our cue to start running. As I leap over the first box with Zayn nearly parallel to me, I'm surprised to say that this cardboard and plastic crates might not be the only things we had to overcome that day.

Learning about love,

Steve Rodgers