Disclaimer: Don't own Avengers or Captain America, that legal right goes to Marvel.
Dear Steve,
This letter will never be sent. There's no one to receive it. But I write it anyway because I hope that from wherever you are, you'll see what's written here and find peace with yourself. I feel that even if you were up in heaven with your parents and Bucky, you'd still be bothered by business left unfinished.
There are so many things that have been left unsaid, and I know that I won't get the chance to tell you any of it for a long time. You were always too noble and heroic for your thin body, but even with Captain America's it could barely be contained. I suppose I should have known that your heart would tell you to sacrifice yourself to save thousands. I never got to say goodbye to either you or Bucky, but even if I got the chance, I'm not sure if I could bring myself to do that.
A man came to the apartment four days ago. He knocked on the door and asked if I was Jena Staggs and if I shared the apartment with Steven Rogers. I said yes, and he said that he was sorry. I knew what he'd come for the moment I saw his uniform, the same sort of uniform than another wore when Bucky's uniform was given to me wrapped in the flag. The man didn't bring my your battle uniform, that's a flag on its own, I was given your spiffy uniform that I suppose you wore on base or something. It didn't make me cry any less. We've got two flags hanging in the apartment now, yours and Bucky's. Both of you have left me forever in the same month and I'm not quite sure when I'll stop crying and go back to my usual mostly hard boiled self.
I knew that letting you two ship out was a bad thing, but what could I do with two men who had nothing and would give everything? I know that you can do anything with your heart and your stubbornness, Steve, and I suppose it's selfish of me to just want you home rather than out and saving the world. I'm so proud of you, for everything you've done, both here in Brooklyn, and out there where the big fight is.
I was given back all the letters I sent to the two of you, and a condolence letter from Colonel Phillips. They're sitting on the table right now. I didn't want any of the letters back though, I want you and Bucky home. I want you alive so badly because now my whole family's dead and our tiny apartment's too big for little me.
Because you and Bucky have done so much for the world, I think I should try and do something as well to help our country. I'm not sure what, but I know that I have to do something. I can't just sit here and wallow in sadness, that's just selfish. I hope that I'll make you proud, from where you're watching over me.
I've been stuck on you for a long time, Steve, and I never got to tell you this in person and only once on paper. I hope you read that one before you crashed, because I think yet another part of me would just give out if you didn't. I don't blame you for dying, you saved a lot of people, including me. I can no longer hope for by best friends to come back, so all I can hope for now is the end of this war.
I will miss you always, Stevie, my defender against giant lizards and street bullies.
I suppose this is my final goodbye, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, one last semblance of closure to at least try to continue with life. This isn't really goodbye, because I'll meet you again once I've lived my life. It's goodbye for now though, and we'll say hello again soon enough.
I love you,
Jena Renee Staggs
(Jenny the dreamer)
P.S.
I hate saying goodbye and ending like that's making me cry even more (you know I don't cry much, but I think I've got a good reason why). So instead of goodbye even though it is:
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.
. . .
Steve was glad that it was three in the morning for once, and that he was completely alone in the common room. He didn't need his teammates to see him crying.
Clint had returned four hours prior from a mission and had brought him a package courtesy of SHIELD. He had removed the wrappings and stared down at the old envelopes with painfully familiar writing on the backs. He'd waited until the sound from Tony's workshop had died away, until Bruce's shuffling in his room stopped, until he could hear Thor snores clearly through the walls, and until Clint finally settled into bed with Natasha.
He didn't want to be in his room to read them, where pictures and sketches of her hung on his walls, where the cozy 40s style room would fool him into thinking that he was home, and where he knew he would completely fall apart. In the living room, there was a chance someone might wake up in need of a glass of water or a nighttime snack, and he would keep himself contained so that they wouldn't see his weakness.
He'd read the letters, starting with the first one he'd sent her when he was doing USO tours, and then he had read her reply. Memories either ignored or suppressed came flooding back as he read the written back and forth.
And then he came upon the last, one that he had never read. It was dated after he went under and he felt his blood run cold.
Steve went back to his room when he couldn't stop the tears and locked the door behind him.
The thirty-six I love yous at the end reminded him of when he and Bucky had headed out to Europe. Jenny had refused to say goodbye, instead sending them off with love and promises from them that they would return safely. Bucky had stolen a kiss from her, which usually earned him a kick to a tender area but had instead gotten him an exasperated yet fond sigh and a hug.
When it was Steve's turn to leave, Jenny had stood on her toes and pulled him down a bit to place a kiss on his cheek. It had been strange, towering over her and being the stronger of them. She'd pulled him in for a long hug, and when they let go she beamed up at him, her smile all watery but bright.
"You're an idiot, Stevie," she'd said using a name long since left behind in childhood. "But that idiot is a brave little thing meant for more than being a dancing monkey. Follow that heart of yours, it knows what to do."
Only once had he told her that he loved her. Only once. Written with a shaky hand, after he'd written about Bucky's death and found the guts to tell her something he only realized after he was an ocean away. Perhaps it had been cruel to tell her that and then leave her to think he was dead, but he hadn't planned on dying afterward. In fact, he'd planned on going back to her after the war and taking her on a date.
A couple sobs escaped him, but he managed to keep his sorrow quiet.
. . .
Steve didn't leave his room until late in the morning. There were still pools of tears left to be shed, but he locked them away for another time and headed to the kitchen. Only Tony was there who was suffering from a deathlike hangover and didn't notice the other man walk in. Steve attempted at breakfast, but found that he couldn't stomach anything other than a few bites of toast. He abandoned it along with his coffee and went to make a phone call.
Coulson had said to call him if he needed anything, and he needed a little help now.
"What can I do for you, Captain?"
"I need help finding someone. Jena Renee Staggs."
"I'll see what I can do. What do you need her for, if I may ask?"
"Just a temporary goodbye that needs to be said."
A/N: So this has been on my computer for a while, figured I might as well put it up. Will probably leave it as a one-shot. Thoughts?