A/N I rewatched Iron Man, Iron Man 2, Captain America, and the Avengers and decided I needed more Steve angst. So I decided to write some myself. Oh, and this is dedicated to Lyra daughter and heir of Chaos. Cheers and happy reading!
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own MARVEL or anything to do with it. Including anything to do with the Avengers.
At exactly 4:30 P.M, Steve wasn't at Stark Towers.
Every single day.
At first, the others don't really think much of it, dismissing it as daily workouts at some other gym.
But then Thor reports one morning, that Steve always works out here. And even when he doesn't, its always early in the morning when he goes to some other gym. But still, nobody is all that worried.
Okay, maybe just a little. But not that much.
One day they all end up in the kitchen at 4:25. All except for Steve.
"Man in the walls, where does our fellow comrade Steven appear to be?" Thor still addressed JARVIS as man in the walls, or something along those lines, for he refused to give a name to something that didn't have a face. There were just the smallest hints of concern evident in his voice.
"Captain Rogers appears to be in the training room," the AI responded in is droning British accent. Bruce shook his head.
"Why am I not surprised?" he asked, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. The Natasha nodded in agreement, and Clint gave her petite hand a little squeeze. In return, she almost broke his fingers. As Tony raised a drink to his lips, he was silent, surprisingly.
"The Captain appears to now be exiting the building through the stairwell in the gym," the automated voice said. Tony suddenly put his drink down on the glass table, and loud clink echoing throughout the room, startling Clint out of his the Black Widow almost broke my hand stupor.
"Have any of you ever wondered where he goes? At the same time every day?" he inquired casually, though some of the usual mirth had drained itself from his voice.
Hell, now even Tony Stark was concerned.
The others shrugged, and Natasha spoke up,
"4:30 sharp, every day for at least two months. Something has to be up. I wouldn't want to invade his privacy though," as she finished, she reached for a glass, and poured herself a drink. Clint took one, too.
"I could follow him, you know," he suggested casually, and Bruce and Thor looked at him questioningly. He smirked.
"I'm an awesome, stealthy, badass assassin. Following Steve around New York City isn't the hardest thing I've ever done," Thor's brow knit in puzzlement.
"Would that not be an invasion of the good Captain's privacy?" he asked, almost naively, and Tony almost laughed.
"You don't get privacy when you're part of a team, Thor," he grinned darkly, and Bruce shuddered. Now he really didn't want to know how his team got access to his clothes so they could bring him an extra pair of pants. Just in case a deranged, jolly green giant decided to pay them a little visit.
The clock on the wall chimed, indicating it was four thirty and, at the exact same moment, JARVIS reported that Steve had left the building and his motorcycle had mysteriously disappeared.
"It's too late today, feathers. Tomorrow, you can be Cap's personal stalker. Right. Now, I promised Pepper I take her out tonight. If I mess this date up… I'm screwed," Tony shuddered at the last part, and Clint couldn't help but sympathize. He too was used to a bit bipolar, somewhat scary female counterpart. Thor bobbed his head.
"Then you best be off, man of metal. Ms. Potts does not seem to be the kind to be kept waiting," Tony checked his watch and his eyes widened.
"Oh shit," he muttered, than practically raced out of the room. Natasha sighed.
"Men will be men. All men are idiots. Now if you'll excuse me," and she stalked off.
"C'mon Nat! Not all men. I haven't forgotten anything. Wait, did I? Tasha, wait…" Clint left too, hot on her heels. A small laugh escaped Bruce's lips as he exited the room, too. Presumably to make sure SHIELD didn't loose two agents that day. Thor just shook his head. Humans were humans. Thor could never understand their antics. Speaking of humans, an effort to used the device known as a cellphone to call a special woman named Jane was in order. Okay. Maybe he sort of understood some humans. But never their strange gadgets. Never.
Life went on as usual. At least until 4:25 the next day.
"Don't screw this one up, Barton. Or there'll be a hell to pay after," The Black Widow let the threat hanging. With a gulp and a shudder at the thought of who exactly the hell would be paid to, Clint made his way downstairs to Tony's private parking garage. Carefully concealing himself, he watched Steve's motorcycle, which currently stood idol.
After a few minutes, in which Clint was starting to get antsy and impatient, Captain America himself made his way downstairs. He climbed onto his motorcycle and rode off. The archer climbed onto another motorcycle(which may or may not have been his) and followed him, though he was cautious to stay a few cars behind him. Driving through the city, the Cap finally pulled over into an old, beat up parking garage. Hawkeye parked on the side of the street, popping a few coins into the parking meter. Then, he bought a hotdog, sat on a bench, and waited. About five minutes later Steve came out of the garage and skillfully began to navigate himself through the busy streets of New York. Throwing the rest of the hotdog in a nearby trash can, Clint began to follow.
After some time, in which Clint had been hit by a total of four briefcases, in a spot where he did not want to be hit, Steve opened an old, quaint looking door and stepped inside. Clint carefully followed him and stationed himself behind a dusty bookcase.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Benson. Have you seen Peggy?" Steve asked the plump brunette at the reception desk, in his annoyingly polite ways. Only then did oh so obtuse Clint realize he was in a nursing home. A military nursing home to be more specific. The look on the Mrs. Benson's face told a story to Clint. A story he desperately wanted to prove wrong. Because 'Peggy' could be none other than Maragret Carter, Captain America's sweetheart/ coworker. And if Clint's suspicions proved to be true…
"Captain-"
"Steve," Steve never really had been the one for extra fame or publicity. The woman smiled sadly and regarded him with such a look of pity that Clint wanted to hurl. Or punch her in the face. Probably both. But, he kept his violent urges to himself and kept listening. Mrs. Benson's voice cracked as she spoke.
"Steve, I'm afraid that… that Ms. Carter…that… Ms. Carter has taken ill a few hours after you left yesterday," So that's where he's been going Clint thought vaguely, still hanging on to every word of the conversation.
"What-"
"She's been having violent coughing fits, a very high temperature, and is at great risk of a heart attack."
"How… but… but she… she was… she was perfectly fine yesterday!" The look on Steve's face… Jesus Christ. The man behind the bookshelf wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in bubble wrap and hide him away from the harsh, cold world. He looked like a lost puppy, stranded in the rain and left to die.
"You have to understand, Mr. Rogers, Ms. Carter is 93 years old. She lived a long life and-" Steve wasn't having any of it.
"Where is she?"
"Mr. Rogers, I'm-"
"I said, where is she?"
"You have to-"
"I need to see her! Peggy. God, she's the only one I have left…" Captain America was near tears now. His blue eyes were clouded with sadness and pain. His voce trailed of pitifully as his breath hitched. Captain goddamn America was near hysteria. His hand were shaking. Mrs. Benson must've realized she was treading on dangerous ground, for she caved and took his hand.
"Right this way," Now Clint really didn't want to invade Steve's privacy, but he had to see the condition this Peggy woman was in. To see the condition Steve was in. To make sure Steve was okay. Besides, Tony had said there was no privacy in a team. Tony Stark's word was law. Most of the time.
Clint cautiously followed the twosome, making sure his presence wasn't know. Soon, they both turned off into a different hallway, and Mrs. Benson unlocked the second door on the right. She gestured for Steve to go in first. But, then she closed the door behind him, not going inside herself. She wanted to give them privacy Clint thought, and that could only mean… It was official. Clint was not going to interfere with Steve's last moments with Maragret Carter.
Steve was Captain America. Captain America was strong. Smart. Fearless. A hero. But he had been through war.
War was hell.
It twisted even the best of people. Steve had witnessed it all, firsthand. But that's why Captain America was there. To win the war. He had the metabolism four times a normal human. He could could he heal at super fast rates. Super strength. A beacon of hope.
But he was still human.
God, he missed the 1940s so much. When Bucky was alive. The Howling Commandoes. Howard. His mother. Peggy. It felt as if someone was whacking a wrecking ball into his already broken, tired, battle worn heart. Repeatedly. When he woke up after his time in the ice, he wanted to be dead. He knew he couldn't fit in. Knew no one area about him. Knew that he was only here to save America from threats and/or aliens. Steve could never dredge up the energy to shake at the mere prospect of death. In truth, Steve was just tired.
So goddamn tired.
He worked himself down. Punching bags often helped. Hoping that one day, being America's human shield would, somehow, make him meet someone that would just be too strong for him. To just kneel over and die.
But obviously, the only person who didn't mind dying was forced to stick through it all. Bucky was dead. The Howling Commandoes were all dead. Howard was dead. His mother was dead. And now, Peggy was laying on her deathbed.
Even at death, Peggy looked beautiful. Stunning. Her bright red lips stood out in contrast to her pale skin. Wispy trendrils of hair loosely framed her face. Her breathing came out in harsh gasps, and the rise and fall of her chest was erratic. A diamond in the rough. Whoever had put her in the room though, had good taste. The walls were a pale red, and a few posters from the 1940's hung front he wall. A few keepsakes lay on her desk. But the thing, the one thing, that meant the most to him was the framed photo of him, laying on the dresser. He loved this woman so much it hurt. Too bad he had failed her too. He took her limp hand.
"Peggy?" he whispered, voice hitched and hoarse. Her previously closed eyes flew open with a start.
"Steve? Is that you?" she asked. Even on her deathbed, her voice was beautiful. Clear. Lucent. Wonderful. It was so amazing Steve almost cried.
"Yeah..." he responded, his voice still barely above a whisper.
"Good. I knew you would come. They all keep saying for me to come, but I knew I had to talk to you first. To tell you something." Her businesslike tone and manner brought a watery smile to Steve's face. But he realized, with a painful start who 'they' was.
"Steve-" Before she could utter another word, the Captain interrupted her in a very un-captain like way.
"Peggy, I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but… but I… I…. I love you, Peggy," the woman on the bed seemed to ponder on that statement for a few second before replying.
"I love you too, Steve," A tear ran down his cheek as he replied, voice cracking tremendously.
"When I… when I see you again, will you teach me how to dance?" he asked. Peggy locked eyes with him.
"Just don't be late," were her last words before she took one last shuddering breath, closed her eyes for the last time, and squeezed his hand. Her features, previously marred with pain and exhaustion, relaxed. She could've almost been sleeping.
But she wasn't.
As doctors and nurses and people from god knows where rushed in, Steve Rogers allowed himself to be ushered outside, meaningless words of comfort and concern and we'll try to save her bounced off of him as he still tried to process the fact that she was dead.
Peggy was dead.
Dead. Gone. Never coming back and death was so very permanent. She had died. Right. In. Front. Of. Him. Took her last breath. Closed her eyes for the last time. She was never going to come back again. Ever.
He just stood there. In the middle of the hallway, shaking. Then a familiar voice floated towards him.
"Steve?" It wasn't Clint. No. It was not Clint. None of the Avengers knew. Knew that he hadn't gotten over his past. Knew that he still visited Peggy. None of them probably cared.
"Steve," Clint stepped into view, "are you alright?" He didn't answer. He didn't. He couldn't. Because if he did, he would start to cry. And if he cried, the tears would never stop. And if the tears never stopped he would be allowing himself to hurt. To break. Then his teammates wouldn't even begin to respect him and they would leave him and everything would go to hell and…
"Steve, oh god is she… Oh Jesus I am so sorry," Steve didn't even bother to shake of the arm that appeared on his shoulders. Neither did he bother to ask how Clint knew he was here or what happened. A steady, warm hand gently guided him to a taxi and helped him inside. He didn't say a word. Not even that his motorcycle was still there.
When he got out of the cab, the world came crashing down on him and the blissfully numb sensation he had previously felt disappeared. Peggy. Peggy. Peggy. She was everywhere. She was nowhere. She was gone. Never. Ever. Coming. Back.
The same warm hand guided him into the building, up the elevator and into the living room. He just stood there. He wished he wasn't standing. He wished he wasn't breathing. He wished he was dying. He wished he was dead. A soft, male voice rang out.
"Guys," a few others came into the room. Steve shrugged the arm off and began to back away. He was seeing without seeing. The people in front of him were the only people there. They were instantly registered as the enemy. He backed further, like a caged animal, and tried to make a break for his bedroom where he could lock himself in and be alone and Peggy was dead. Sadly, he didn't get very far.
A muscular arm gently blocked his escape route, and when he fought against the unknown enemy, he was lifted bodily off the floor. He dimly wondered how this was possible considering he was the strongest human on the planet. He still fought back though.
He was set down on a couch where he just collapsed, burying his head in his hands, curling up into a ball. He didn't look anyone in the eye. Steve vaguely heard a conversation being quietly murmured, catching the question what happened? That was a good question. What did happen? Oh. Peggy had died.
He felt someone crouch in front of him, someone place their arm around him, someone stroke his arm, someone murmuring in a low tune that was strangely comforting. Someone run their hand through his hair. No one had ever done that since his mother had died. Then the person crouched in front of him spoke.
"Steve…" they awkwardly trailed off, and the person in the midst of all this instantly knew it was Tony. The billionaire/playboy/genius/philanthropist pried his hands from his face and held on to them tightly.
"It's alright," he whispered. Steve sniffled. He coughed. He squeezed his eyes together pitifully.
Then he cried.
The tears kept coming, but his team never left. He cried and cried. For everything he'd ever lost. Which was pretty much everything. First it was his mother. Then Bucky. Next the Howling Commandoes. Soon after that Howard. Then of course, Peggy. He didn't think it was even possible to lose this much. They were all gone. Dead. Never. Ever. Coming. Back. If there was a good lord upstairs anymore(besides any Asgardian) he must've pissed him off really bad in a previous life or something because he sure liked to kill the people he loved. The tears kept coming, and he was pretty sure he started hyperventilating at one point. Then it started getting hard to breathe. He coughed and hacked and choked and he couldn't breathe. Someone pounded him in the back but it didn't help and he was coughing and crying and Peggy was dead and he couldn't breathe. Black spots danced in his vision, and the numb sensation was returning. He wasn't so sure it was welcome anymore. Steve was dimly aware of shouting and glass breaking and someone rambling swear words in his ears. It was annoying. But he didn't have the energy to tell the present to stop. The numb sensation became overwhelming and everything faded to black.
Steve wondered if this was what dying felt like. Because if it was, it wasn't that bad.
Okay. Maybe not breathing wasn't the best sensation in the world, but Steve just, honestly couldn't be bothered with dredging up the amount of energy it took to fear death.
Suddenly, he was plopped down on something soft that seemed to be glowing. Carefully standing up and taking in his surroundings, the super soldier cautiously took one step forward. Nothing drastic seemed to happen, so he took another step. This time, something happened.
A dark, swirling mass of black clouds appeared and began to spin. Faster and faster until Captain America was afraid he would get nauseous. They started to take the shape of something, no someone. When Steve saw who it was, he just couldn't take it anymore and his legs gave away from under him.
Because, standing right in front of him, was none other than Peggy Carter.
She was still as stunning as always. Her beautiful, dark hair was pinned up so he could see her sparkling eyes. Her lips were perfect and red. She wore the red dress she had worn in the Stork Club all those years ago when Steve had finally found someone who skipped over Bucky for him. Reaching out a slender hand to grasp his, her lip formed a small smile.
"Steve," she said and her voice was even better than it had been earlier when she had, oh god she had, she had died.
"Oh Peggy," he whispered as she squeezed his hand.
"Peggy I-" she put a dainty finger to his lips.
"Steve, listen to me," He had no choice but to obey, mesmerized by her wonderful, lively eyes.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"I can't fully explain right now. The secrets of death best remain secrets," With a start, Steve processed this new information.
"Does that mean I'm…. I'm dead?" he asked in awe. It wasn't that he was sad. More like, almost like disappointment. Why, he had no idea whatsoever.
"No Steve. More like, on the brink of death. You, of all people should know," The super soldier didn't really hear her. He was too busy wanting to kiss her and never let go.
"I just want it all to end," he said with a sigh. Peggy eyed him sadly and wrapped her arms around him.
"I know Steve. I know. But there are people waiting for you," Steve's heart broke again as he buried his face in her hair.
"But I… I want to see you again. Maybe even the others, if they're here,"
"We all want to see you too. But, it's not your time. The world still needs you. And the people do too," Breathing in the woman in front of him's sweet scent, he felt like crying all over again.
"So… I have to go back?" he inquired, almost childishly.
"Yes Steve. And don't worry. You'll see us all soon enough. And when that time comes, the other people you care about will come here with us. but that time is not now," Surprisingly enough, Peggy almost looked like she wanted to shed a few tears herself.
"I love you, Peggy" he whispered, then, acting on impulse, he kissed her and all of his worries melted away. Steve could feel Peggy's tense muscles relaxing, too.
I love you too Steve" Now it all felt like a repeat of what happened earlier, but he felt fuller somehow. Because he knew he'd see her again someday. When they finally pulled apart, the same swirling mass that had brought Peggy to him appeared behind him, like a vortex.
"There's your ride," she said with a smile. As he slowly made his way towards it, he turned back to face Peggy.
"I promise I won't be late," he called. The last thing he saw was Peggy's beautiful smile before he woke up, back in the world of the living.
When Steve woke up, everyone else was hovering above him, panicked and concerned expressions on their faces. Tony's finger hovered over his StarkPhone, ready to call for medical help. Not so surprisingly, he was the first one to recover.
"If you ever do that again, I will personally kill you. Then stab you with a knife, Repeatedly," Steve couldn't help it, he smiled. The first real smile he'd had in a long, long time. And as the others recovered and rebuked him for almost dying on them and not telling them about his visits with Peggy, he kept smiling.
And now, everyday, at exactly 4:30 P.M, Steve loved his team a million times more.
A/N How was it? Like it? Hate it? Tell me in a review. They make me smile! But no flames 'cause I'm fireproof.