The Protector
By Carol M.
Summary: After Peggy dies, a heartbroken Steve spends the coldest day of the year mourning at her grave. A determined Natasha tries to bring him out of the cold and be the friend that he so desperately needs. Hypothermic!Steve, Steve!Angst, Steve/Natasha friendship, hints of Romanogers
Note: Set sometime after the events of The Winter Soldier. I wasn't sure which city Peggy would be buried in or if Steve would continue to live in Washington, so I kept the location vague.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, only love them!
Hope you enjoy!
Natasha pulled her leather jacket even tighter around herself as the brutally cold air nipped at her skin, her body shuddering against the chilly onslaught. She could make out Steve's figure in the distance of the cemetery, not needing to see his face, knowing by his shape and the way he stood that it was him. Captain America would be the only soul brave enough to pay his respects to Peggy Carter on the coldest day the city had experienced in twenty years.
Peggy had died on a Thursday. Natasha had gotten a call from Tony, who had found out from Pepper, who had found out from Fury. If it had been up to Steve, she probably wouldn't have found out at all. Despite them having grown closer the last few months, she knew that Steve was not the type to seek out solace or comfort, even from a friend. So she decided to volunteer for the job, just in case he needed it.
She owed him that.
When she hadn't found him at his apartment, she took a chance that he was paying his respects in person. She drove past the main gate of the cemetery and parked, grabbing her coat and wrapping a scarf around her neck as she got out, hesitant to leave the warmth of her heated car. She didn't see Steve's motorcycle anywhere, but decided to check it out anyway. She noticed an old groundskeeper trying to defrost a section of icy sidewalk and strutted over to him. "Hey hot stuff, anybody out there today?"
"Just you and I, little lady," said the man, taking a moment to check her out. "Well and that America guy. He's been here since first light. I asked him if he wanted to come in the shed and warm up for awhile, but he just looked at me real sad and said no."
Natasha nodded in gratitude. "It's okay. I've come to collect him. Thanks for trying though."
The man winked and nodded to her left. "Find him over there."
"Thanks," said Natasha as she veered down the pathway, her face already burning from the cold, the air thick and icy in her lungs. She was barely able to stand the frigid weather for five minutes, let alone the five hours Steve had been out there.
Super soldier or not.
She continued on the path, locating him quickly. When she got within earshot, she made a noisy approach by kicking up gravel and clearing her throat, not wanting to startle him. But he didn't seem to notice, which worried her. No one got the drop on Steve Rogers. Not ever. Which meant he was vulnerable to outside attack, and even more disturbing, it meant that the cold and the grief had already taken it out of him. She could see his rigid posture, muscles held so tight from the cold they looked like they were ready to explode. She could also hear him breathing, small, tortured bursts of air that were painful to the ear. He sounded like he was barely getting any oxygen. She didn't know how he was still on his feet.
When she was practically on top of him, she reached a tentative hand out to grasp Steve's shoulder, half expecting him to turn around and take her to the ground. It would be welcome at this point. Then she'd know he was firing on at least a few cylinders anyway. But he gave no indication he noticed her presence. Still, she braced herself as her hand made firm contact with his shoulder.
"Steve."
He nearly tumbled over in surprise. He turned around and Natasha grimaced at the dry cracked skin of his lips and the redness of his cheeks and forehead, his skin pale, a bluish tinge threatening to turn patches of his skin purple. The stubble on his chin and jaw was also quite disturbing. She had never seen Steve be anything other than clean shaven. Even on a job, he somehow managed to keep himself looking pristine. But that wasn't the worst. It was his eyes. They were glazed over and dead. They were hopeless. Helpless. He was lost.
"Natasha?" he said, the word slurred, his voice cracking. He coughed, clearing his throat, trying to take in a deeper breath then the cold would allow. He settled on a painful sounding wheeze. "What are you doing here?" he asked, stumbling back like he was drunk.
Natasha held on to him, grasping his other shoulder, trying to steady him. She could feel his frozen arms even through the material of his jacket. "I've been looking for you," she said as she nonchalantly began rubbing her hands up and down his chilled limbs to warm him up.
Steve didn't notice, still not fully comprehending her physical presence. He turned his head back towards Peggy's grave marker, the engraving of her date of birth and date of death seeming to gut him before her eyes. It was like he was getting the news for the first time all over again. "I've been here," he uttered so softly she barely heard him.
"I know," she said, wrapping her arm around Steve's waist, his body a brick wall of solid ice that threatened to steal Natasha's own dwindling body heat. She shivered as she settled closer to him. "I'm so sorry, Steve. I really am. I know how much you loved her."
"Yeah," he said, sounding broken, like he was on the verge of tears. "I did."
She hugged him from the side, trying at once to both comfort and conserve body heat. "Let me take you home. I know you've been out here for hours. How'd you get here anyway? I didn't see your motorcycle."
Steve wiped at his eyes and sniffled loudly, trying to pull himself together. "I walked."
Of course he had. That meant there was no telling just how long he'd been exposed to the freezing air. "Let's get out of here, Steve. You can come back tomorrow. Maybe it'll be a little warmer."
Steve suddenly backed away from her "No."
"Steve…"
"I'm not leaving."
"Steve, you're freezing."
"It doesn't matter."
"Rogers! Damn it, yes it does!"
"No."
"Steve, please," she begged, reaching for his arm once again.
"I can't, Natasha." He stared down at Peggy's grave with a haunted look on his face. "It's so cold and she's..." He trailed off, looking off in the distance with tears in his eyes, unable to complete the sentence. It took him a minute before he could speak again. "I don't want her to be by herself. I can't let her be by herself."
"Aw Steve," she said, her voice tender. "She's gone. You've gotta let her go. She wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."
"How would you have any idea what she would want? You didn't know her!" he shouted, his breath sawing out of him in loud, angry bursts.
"No, but I know you. And I know you wouldn't love a woman who would stand by while you purposely hurt yourself in her supposed honor."
Steve's frame shook violently against a harsh tremor of cold, his jaw clenching as he struggled to catch his breath. "I'm not leaving, Nat. I'm just not."
"Fine," said Natasha, her brain switching from friend mode to mission mode. "Then I'm not leaving either." She took a second to brace herself for what she was about to do and then proceeded to take off her scarf, followed by her leather jacket, throwing them both on the ground. Her sweater followed, leaving her in only a tank top and jeans. She shivered miserably as the frigid air hit her bare skin.
"Are you crazy?" Steve barked. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Exactly what you're doing, Cap. Being an idiot." She reached into a utility pocket on her belt and pulled out a lighter.
"What the…"
Before Steve could finish, Natasha knelt down to the ground and lit her clothes on fire. She glanced back up at him as the clothes were engulfed in flames. "This was my favorite jacket. Just so you know."
"Damn it, Natasha!" Steve started to pull off his own jacket to wrap around her.
"Don't bother. I'll just burn that too."
"Natasha…"
"If Peggy could see you now, Rogers, she'd slap you across the face and light your stubborn, frozen body on fire."
The words seem to stop Steve in his tracks and she instantly felt bad at her harshness. She waited for an angry retort or a pitiful plea of mercy, but instead what she got was the small flickering of a smile. "She did try to shoot me once."
Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. She had him. Finally.
"My kind of lady," she said, quirking her lips into a smile of her own.
A mix of embarrassment and gratitude flashed through exhausted blue eyes as he reached a hand down to pull her up.
"So we done here?" she asked, accepting the help.
Steve nodded, looking like he was on the verge of collapse.
"Let's get you home."
Steve took one last look at the grave, pausing a moment before finally dragging himself away. He took one arm out of his jacket and wrapped it around Natasha's quivering frame. She huddled against him as they walked, trying to warm them both up. Steve began to lag behind her, his breathing shallow, his body now shaking with tiny tremors. He wasn't saying anything. It was like he was in a daze.
"Hey, Steve, you with me?"
"Yeah," he breathed, but she was not at all convinced. His eyes had taken on a vacant quality that she didn't like. Now that he didn't have to be Peggy's graveside protector, she worried that his body's adrenaline was plunging and that he was turning hypothermic. She reached up and lightly slapped his cheek, his skin so cold it burned her hand. The gesture seemed to bring him around a bit. He raised his eyebrows with a hurt puppy look on his face but didn't say anything.
"Just checking, Cap. Stay with me."
After a frozen eternity, they reached the parking lot. She nodded goodbye to the groundskeeper and then folded Steve into the passenger seat of her car, her own body about to give out from the chill. She hurried around to her driver's side and got in, quickly starting the car and turning on the heat as hot and high as it could go.
Steve was shaking like a leaf beside her, his breathing rapid and shallow. She grabbed his jacket and pulled him against her, noting that he felt even colder than when she had first found him.
"Aww...aw…go..go…god…it's so damn…c…c…c…cold," he managed between gritted teeth.
"I tried to tell you," said Natasha, backing up the car with a screech and hauling ass out of there. She sped down the surface streets, taking advantage of the lack of traffic due to the cold, trying to get back to his apartment as quickly as possible. She relaxed into her seat as she drove, the heat heavenly as it blasted her skin, her body finally warming up.
Steve, on the other hand, was curled up in a pitiful ball, shaking and whimpering his discomfort, his muscles taut with strain. He reached shaky hands out to the air vents, the skin on his hands cracked and red. His face was redder too, the purpling spots she noticed earlier looking angrier, no doubt the early stages of frostbite. It would heal, of course. It would all heal. His heart too. But that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt like hell in the meantime.
"We're here," she said a few minutes later when they finally reached the apartment. She got the shivering mass of super soldier out of the car and he clung to her, instinctually pressing his body against hers to soak up her body heat.
"M' so cold," he whispered in her ear.
"I know. Just hang on. I got just the thing," she said as they stumbled up the stairs to his apartment. Steve fumbled for the keys and reached a quaking hand toward the lock. Natasha pressed her hand over his, taking the key away. "Allow me."
She opened the door and manhandled him inside, slamming the door shut with her foot. Then she began to strip Steve of his clothes. Jacket first, then his T-shirt. When she grasped for his belt, he took an awkward step back, nearly falling over.
"Whoa, what are…"
"Don't be such a prude, Cap. This is all for the sake of medicine." She reached again for his belt and unbuckled it with no objection. "Trust me."
She pulled down his pants and helped him step out of them, leaving him standing exposed in black boxer briefs, his muscles involuntarily flexing from cold. She took a moment to admire the view while taking off her tank top and her own pants, leaving her in only a bra and underwear. Then she grabbed his hand and dragged his trembling frame into his bedroom. When she noticed an electric blanket on his bed, she almost kissed him. "Thank god for your time spent as a popsicle, Rogers."
Steve only grunted in response.
She eased him onto the bed and grabbed for the blanket controller, putting it on high. Then she wrapped herself around Steve's freezing body and pulled the blanket over them like a cocoon. Steve burrowed himself against her, his body violently spasming. "Cold," he moaned in misery.
"Just give it a few minutes," she soothed, running her hands up and down his back and arms, nuzzling her body against his, trying to smooth the goose flesh she felt popping out of his skin. She pressed her face against his neck and breathed warm air in and out, smelling his soapy clean scent, his stubble stinging her cheek.
He yelped as a particularly violent shiver tore through his muscular body.
"Easy, you're okay." She curled around him tighter, tucking his head under her chin, the action seeming to soothe him and provide some relief to his cold, quaking body. After awhile, the tremors ceased all together and his breathing finally sounded normal. He was going to be okay. Physically anyway.
Natasha flipped the top of the blanket back, desperate for fresh air, stifled from Steve's warming body and the heat of the blanket. She took in a breath and then glanced back down at Steve, curious to see how he was doing.
His eyes were focused intensely on her. Gone was the glaze of shock and cold, replaced with a look of complete clarity, his eyes finally comprehending the heart wrenching truth. "Peggy's gone," he managed before his face collapsed into a puddle of grief. Then he started to cry.
It had finally hit him.
Steve's body began to shake again, only this time it was from the incomprehensible grief pouring out of his heart. Out of his soul. She could literally feel the pain radiating off of him. Natasha tightened her hold on him, her hand coming up to the back of his neck, rubbing soothing circles against his skin. "It's okay, Steve. It's okay. Just let it out. I got you. I got you."
She listened to his horrid cries, her skin soaked with his tears as the man who put everyone before himself, who had lost everyone he'd ever cared about, fell apart in her arms. He cried and cried and cried, his body seizing with sobs. It was like he was mourning not only Peggy, but everything else he had lost. Bucky. His unit. His parents. The time he'd lost spent cold and alone in a block of ice.
By the time he started to settle down, she had tears streaming down her own cheeks. She loosened her grip on his body as exhaustion began to take him, the sobs dying down. A shudder there, a hiccup there. One final whimper and then he was still and quiet, his eyes swollen shut, his face completely lax. He was well and truly out. She felt the muscles in his body relax into the bed and then he sighed a long, deep breath of sleep. Maybe the first real sleep he'd had since becoming Captain America all those years ago.
Natasha gingerly climbed out of his bed, careful not to wake him, and then peered down at him, noting how young he looked in sleep. She reached down and caressed his cheek before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well, Steve. I got you."
That's All Folks!