Steve Rodger's lungs were on fire. Simple as that. Coming up on his twentieth mile, passing the back entrance for what felt like the billionth time, he bolted past the door.

Keep going. Don't stop. Two words wound over and over on top of each other. A mantra ringing through his head.

His breath rushed in and out of his lungs, fueling the fire that had begun growing somewhere on his tenth mile. Inhales and exhales falling in time with the flashes of memories racing through his thoughts. Heart thudding away in his chest. A painful thumping that Steve knew had nothing to do with the twenty-first mile he had just finished and everything to do with anxiety pressing in on the peripherals of his mind.

The rapidly approaching blue-white of ice sheets. His arms straining uselessly against the control panel.

Faster. He needed to go faster. But Captain America's body revolted with his thoughts as they flashed in and out.

Ice. Frigid, violent, and agonizingly slow. It was coming back. If he stopped running that deathly frost would come back. Would overtake his bones, creeping along his veins until they turned languid and thick with forced sleep.

Panic slipped its way into his pumping arms and legs. Suddenly, the thought that he was running to outrun something from a far off nightmare became very real. Steve could feel the ice breathing down his neck. Whispering promises of shivers and darkness.

One leg came up and knocked into the other and he found the ground rushing up to meet his face.

Steve landed with a hard thud in the mud and grass. He laid there, in the soft green brush, cloths soaking up the night dew. His breathe rushing in and out of his lungs. His forehead buried in dirt.

A string of curses filled his thoughts and, for once, he actually let them slip out into the crisp night air. His fist came up and slammed down into the dew-covered ground. It left an imprint deep in the mud.

Super soldier serum or not, Steve had a limit. He thought he might have finally reached it. So Steve slowed, aggravated he couldn't continue.

Steve wasn't one for quitting, however. So as he rested his hands on his knees, he resolved to hit the gym and set up some of the military grade punching bags that had been stored away for him.

He had to continue. It was still early. If he kept going he might be able to find that dreamless sleep his body craved. Most nights went like this anyway.

Dreams of ice. Of freezing waters. The slowing of his heart beat.

Slowly, Steve forced himself to breath. In and out. He could feel it. His body still wired beneath the burning in his limbs. Not from the exercise, but from the nightmare. The nightly terror that invaded the soft floating of sleep. That needed to go. If he was quick, he could get in some food or a protein bar, and continue. If he really pushed, Steve was sure he could find at least three hours of sleep tonight. That was a goal to work towards.

So he pulled himself up, dusted off some dirt, and made his way back.

Surprisingly, Avengers Tower became a bit of a ghost town at night. Everyone was either hunkered away in their rooms sleeping off the day's mission or training, or had gone away to their private residence. More often than not, Steve found he could run his brutal regiment throughout most of the night without disturbing anyone.

He figured it was best to grab a quick protein shake and then continue until his body wore itself out enough for a dreamless sleep.

It came as a little bit of surprise for him to find a light on in the kitchen. Cautiously, he stepped inside, letting the automatic door slide open with a soft click.

Sitting there at the island, bathed in the soft glow of a data pad, sat Wanda Maximoff. She was dressed in a t-shirt that Steve wasn't sure nearly long enough to be considered actual sleepwear, and her long, bare legs dangled just barely off the ground. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and chewed her bottom lip.

The sight did odd things to Steve's stomach. A foreign sense of warmth spread to his face and Steve suddenly felt like he was intruding on something private.

Unfortunately, he had been standing in the doorway a little too long, and it slid shut, jabbing him in the arm. Then it proceeded to beep in protest.

Steve swore under his breath.

Wanda's head shot up, dark eyes darting to rest on his. Whether she meant to or not, her powers had come alive, with tendrils of red mist swirling around her like psychic fangs bared. Steve could feel her alarm slipping it's way into his mind and almost instinctually his hands came up, silently pleading her to ease off.

When she realized who it was, Wanda let her powers taper off, and Steve could feel the relief rolling off her. It was an odd sensation. Everyone in the base knew of her powers, and Wanda had gone through several lectures (most from Natasha) on how not to intrude on people's minds. Yet Steve found it ironic that it was so easy to sense how she felt. You simply had to listen.

"Captain." She said.

"Wanda," Steve replied, suddenly very sure he had walked in on a private moment.

"You should be sleeping." She said after a quiet beat.

Steve laughed a little nervously, "Shouldn't you be sleeping too?"

Wanda shrugged. "I was having trouble," she said, accent dusting her words. She set the data pad aside, face down. Steve watched as she brought a cup of tea to her lips and set it aside as well.

"I know the feeling."

He shifted from one foot to the other. Making an awkward half lurch half step forward, Steve decided if he had truly intruded on something private, the damage was done and it was best to just get his shake and move right along. He quickly moved into the kitchen and opened a cabinet, pulling one of the bins of protein powder S.H.I.E.L.D had designed for him.

He set about filling a cup with water and dumping several spoonfuls into the mixture.

Behind him, he could feel Wanda's eyes on him, boring into his back. He could feel her mind filling the edges of the room like a static charge. Humming against his skin. Suddenly Steve wondered if he was still drenched in sweat and dirt.

"You're covered in dirt."

Steve felt himself straighten. Had she read his mind? He turned to her smiling as best as he could. "Yeah, I might have taken a little spill."

"Why were you outside?" She asked, not intrusively but simply curious. The tail end of her words tilting up in an honest question.

Steve paused for a second. He could go with the truth or he could lie and risk her powers picking up on it immediately. In the end he decided to go with the truth, but a vague truth at that.

"I went for a run."

She cocked her head to the side and said, "At three in the morning?"

Steve stopped spooning out the protein powder, and felt his mouth open. Ready to say something. Then he thought better on it and just shrugged.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Most things do."

Steve nodded, unsure of what to make of the comment. He downed the shake in a few gulps and set his things back in the cupboard. Picking up his step he grabbed his gym bag, and paused in the door. The hum of her mind filling the room still echoed like vibrations on his skin. He could feel something from her, but it was wrapped up tightly in her mind. As if her thoughts had coiled in on whatever that feeling was. But he knew there were only two reasons people didn't sleep.

The first was excitement. Like a kid on Christmas Eve. And that did not seem like Wanda right now. So that left the second option.

Anxiety.

The darkness of ones own thoughts. Steve knew full well what that was like. Now that he was tuned into that, it became easier to pick up on that same darkness. It hovered over her like a invisible cloud. He could feel it along that strange line her powers created with people. Abrasive, stifling, and above all, heavy. It weighed down the room.

So Steve paused in the doorway. Glancing over his shoulder he could see her. Staring at the data pad, now back in her hands, illuminating her face in a pale blue light. It was then that Steve noticed how thin she looked. The bags underneath her eyes. The way her shoulders hung low.

He spun on his heel, quick, and Steve saw, and finally understood why she had turned the tablet face down.

Glowing on the holoscreen was a picture of Pietro. Steve recognized it. It was a memorial article Stark had published for him in honor of his sacrifice against Ultron.

It just all seemed to click in that moment. The way the room swam with darkness. Not physically, but emotionally. Like she had filled the room to the brim with her grief.

Wanda probably hadn't been expecting him to return. Steve imagined he must have startled her, because she hugged the pad close to her chest, maybe in an attempt to hide it from him.

Steve didn't look at her as he crossed back into the room and knelt down in front of one of the cabinets at the base of the island. Reaching inside, he pulled out and old wooden box. Placing it on the counter, he pulled out a little packet and handed it to her.

Cautiously, she eyed him before letting her gaze drift down to the package and then back up to him.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Tea?"

She gave an exasperated sigh, though not an annoyed one, and said,"I know that. I mean why?"

"Why?" Steve asked, "It's chamomile."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "What is that?"

"It's a kind of tea. Supposed to help you sleep."

She blinked. "Oh…we have a different name for it in Sokovian." She glanced at the packet, then back at him, "Is that box yours?"

"Yeah. Banner gave it to me as a gift."

She gave him a small, courteous smile. "It sounds like his type of gift."

"It's supposed to be real tea. You know, not the mass produced stuff all over the shelves nowadays," Steve smiled, "It'll work better than whatever citrus flavored thing you're drinking now."

"How did you know I was drinking…"

She trailed off as Steve tapped his nose and gave her a shrug. "Serum changed a lot of things."

Wanda nodded. "I see."

Steve drummed his knuckle on the table, "But yeah, it should help a little. You'd think S.H.I.E.L.D, with all its resources, would be able to at least get us some coffee or tea you couldn't find at the grocery store."

That earned him another small smile. Steve returned the gesture.

"Well hopefully this will be better than store bought tea," She said.

"I'm sure it will be."

"As am I."

Then it occurred to him briefly, that the darkness at the edge of room had receded just a bit. Wanda seemed brighter, and therefore the whole room seemed brighter.

A long silence stretched between them. Neither of them knew what to say, and Steve was almost certain of that. Again, she looked so fragile, staring down at her cup, and the face down holopad.

"When I came out of the ice, it took a while to hit me."

Wanda's head darted up, eyes honing in on his. Steve read them quickly, skimming them like a book, hoping they were not willing him to shut up. But he felt no ill will from her, and he could still feel her mind, hovering about the room like a phantom. Steve barreled on, letting the words fall from his mouth.

"Everything was just...wrong." Glancing again at Wanda, he continued, "My friends, my family. Everyone I had ever known was either dead or too old to remember me."

When Wanda didn't answer, Steve took that as a good sign.

"In fact everything I had ever known seemed to have...well, died." Steve said, waving a hand about in the air, "The city had changed, the people had changed. Everything was no longer like it used to be. My whole world had been ripped out from underneath me. It hurt so damn much because at the end of the day I knew there was no way of getting it back. The people, the city, the life I had before all this." Steve felt his own sigh escape from between his lips. "The ice took that from me."

Steve could feel Wanda moving against his mind. Looking for something. Like his mind was a keyhole and she was trying to peer through it, looking for answers. Steve imagined she found none because a moment later a rattling breath escaped her this time, and she asked, "How did you go on living?"

"I didn't. Not for a while. In fact I don't think I fully am now either."

Wanda let out a wry snort, and for a moment Steve was worried he had done something wrong. "Is that why you're out running at three AM?"

"No, that's for an entirely different set of reasons," he said, feigning embarrassment, hoping she wouldn't catch him in the very obvious lie, "But my point is, I've learned to start trying to find purpose again."

"You say that like it is easy."

"It's not. But the point is to not let that stop you from trying."

Wanda wouldn't look at him. She nodded, silently, still looking away from him.

"I've had my world ripped away from me once," Steve said, compiling as much conviction and passion as he could muster into his voice, and threw it at her thoughts like a psychic baseball. Feeling it collide with her dark, lonely thoughts, "I know what it's like."

She was silent a long while then. Steve watched as Wanda fiddled with her fingers. Fidgeting. Nervous. "It doesn't feel like there's much else to live for right now."

One simple sentence. A honest thought. Steve felt as though she had punched him in the gut. His heart sank as the full intensity of her sadness struck him.

Not knowing whether it was the right decision let alone the smartest one, he reached out. Taking both her hands in one of his. He squeezed gently, willing her to meet his gaze. She did.

"There is always something more to live for."

She seemed taken aback by that. Then, slowly, she nodded and Steve didn't need her powers to tell she had listened.

Straightening, and giving her hands one last squeeze, he let go. She seemed smaller in that moment. Fragile. Steve gave her the most honest smile he could.

"Get some sleep when you can, okay?"

"Yeah." She said, holding her eyes on his. Something in that moment changed. Passing between the two of them. Steve felt it. He knew it. Yet, he also knew she still needed her privacy, and time to mourn. He would be there if she ever needed it, but he did not want to interject where he didn't belong. So he gave her one last smile, and made his way to the door.

"Goodnight, Wanda. I'll see you in the morning." He called back, "Hope that tea helps."

"Goodnight, Captain." Before the he hit the button for the door she called out, "And Captain?"

He turned, "What's up?"

"Thank you."

Steve smiled, running as much warmth and empathy as he could her way. "Always."

The door slid shut behind him and Steve let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He had half expected her to give him an evil eye, or snap at him. In fact he had expected the whole decision to backfire in his face.

But it hadn't. And that was good. He could grasp what Wanda was going through. He knew it all too well.

And as the night dragged on, and with each sandbag he shattered, Steve wondered what she was doing. Was she still sitting at the counter, mulling away over Pietro's death? Was she sleeping, as he too should have been?

He could only hope she was. God knew she deserved it. More than any of them, maybe.