Tears for Surrender
All characters belong to Marvel Comics
You won't be alone, Peggy's words funneled back into his recesses of his mind, and Steve felt gravity pushing him down into a void of layering grief. It was humid inside, unnoticed by the charge of emotions leading to heartache.
The thought of dismissing a tear, it gauged him deeply as he was embraced in the emptiness of the high peaked cathedral. Slits of daylight were piercing through the arched windows of stain glass, reflecting over the gloss of mahogany of the vacant rows of pews. In reserved silence, he stood in the heart of the cathedral, the only pulse of life to hold a distant memory. He was too late to say goodbye.
Settling a glance at the rainbow prism haze caressing the windows, Steve took a moment to suppress another whisper of grief, though, he knew it would be constant, undying as blurring tears edged to be released. He didn't allow the sting of pain fall. He chose to stay behind, to spend a few more minutes in his own residual sanctuary. Despair was a sense he became immune to harboring underneath his steel demeanor, even though, he felt like a target of grief, and failed time.
...Don't you dare be late, Captain...
Once more, Steve set his trained eyes and resolve to the rafters, faint gleams of light reflect in the teary depths of azure, as his eyes narrow back to the vacant rows of the wooden pews, imagining friends and family members of the Carter family still present as the colors of blue, red and white invaded his displaced thoughts. The image of Peggy's flagged draped casket never faded away, it bled into his mind and breached his heart with agonizing reflections.
"S'orry Peg," the name of his 'best girl' tore out of his taut lips and he couldn't obstruct a small detectable sob. There hadn't been much time to prepare for this moment of utmost detachment. The gravity of his renewed pain had forced his faltering weight to lean against a pew, his palm absently clutched the wooden edge. His emotions were fragile as he blinked hard to stop the flow of tears. He wanted to take everything back, drift into the past and reclaim a life with her. That would end the agony, wouldn't?
You gotta be stronger than this, Rogers..., Steve thought. Maybe it would be easier to release tears and reveal to the world that Captain America, the face of an ultimate super- soldier could display unguarded sorrow. He didn't wear masks. Never did. He carried on the fight, bearing his pain in silent dignity and used every throb of it as fuel to finish each mission laid out for him. That's what he trained his heart to do, after failing to grip onto Bucky's hand in those last infinite seconds when the rail broke off, Steve built up his safeguards, barriers that steadied himself to remain grounded for battle. It hurt to lose the one anchor who had always been his heartbeat. Peggy was always there for him, standing at his side, having faith in his unyielding heart, and urging him to charge into the hellish of storms.
For a second he imagined the hymns of the choir, the fresh scent of roses all returning back to a collective moment of peace as his blue eyes found the trail of petals on the carpeted steps of the altar. He wanted to seal the pain, end the ache as it torturously numbed through his rigid bones; his blood was cold and slow from standing without a pulse of motion, and his heart suddenly felt gutted out of his chest. Releasing a heavy outpour of cascading tears, the strength of his breath surrendered a cry that he couldn't hold back. His hand squeezed against the solid wood, and the knifing pain against his closed palm helped compose his emotions.
In the shadows of the opened doorway, Natasha stood there, observing his moments of utter solace, she didn't advance towards him; she gave him enough distance to finally pour out his splintering heart.
His sobs became strained as he echoed a voiceless beckon to her, and without hesitation in her lithe strides, Natasha made her delicate approach down the aisle, settling a sharp gaze of her teal irises on the despair marching over his chiseled features, and she watched each depth of his unassailed heartache fracture over his lips. She made her advances slow assured, not closing the distance as she stood in front of a pew across from him. In that moment, his heart became discarded pieces, but she collected them with every echo of his falling tears.
"Hey," she whispered, softly, hoping to reclaim his teary gaze. And she did. Steve was aware of her alluring and dangerous presence, the wafting the scent of strawberry, it made his blood rush every time she was near. "I know that you want to be alone..." she paused in a short breath as he tried to bury the pain with a faint smirk that dissolved before she could even notice it. She refused to let him stand in the church without a shoulder to cry on. "Peggy was a beautiful and strong woman." Strength returned in her husky voice, as she leaned against the pew, and light gathered in her curly auburn hair and traced her polished rose lips as she finished with a timbre of untainted sympathy. "I can see why you loved her."
Steve didn't echo back, at least not for the present moment. He sniffled, and diverted his gaze away from her, attached to his underlying grief. The wetness that collected in his eyes streaked over the glistening, serrated edges of his slackened jaw, as he gradually turned back, leveling with the intensity of her hawkish teal eyes, he stared her down, exposing all the searing and relentless heartache he felt.
It was an uncovered illusion to her. It was real. "Yeah," Steve finally eased out a quiet breath, and gathered up his answer, wishing not to feel so burdened by the overwhelming despair that he fought against. He couldn't let it take hold. Not when Natasha was standing parallel to him, and so he gripped the pew harder still as his hand lost feeling, and welcomed the sting for the distraction to end the flow of heated tears. His blue eyes glanced high, resolving back at the empty rafters again."I really did," he confessed shakily, almost lost from words; he still didn't give her a clear answer.
Natasha didn't pursue him for another one. She knew that he was trying to keep everything safeguarded, and understood how painful it must've been for him to speak about something so abiding and pure. With a small quirk shadowing her glossy lips, she gave him simple assurance to keep those words sealed. "Well, that's convincing enough for me, Rogers."
Steve turned away from that. His jaw hardened into a sharp clench, as he denied the reachable comfort. He was acting stubborn."Don't feel sorry for me...Everyone keeps on tellin' me that they're sorry for my loss," he admonished evenly, his Brooklyn drawl heavy with riddled emotion as he squeezed his eyes shut and endured a slow burn of tears. He tried to convince her that he was fine, that he conditioned his emotions to remain guarded. Unceremoniously, he lost his balance as his other hand reached for the pew, and he was falling into another void of submission. "The truth is Nat," As uneven breath ragged up in his raw throat, his unabated guilt became deep-seated for her to recognize in the instant he swallowed another sob."I already lost Peggy in another lifetime...I never made the move when it really counted."
Natasha gave him a silent nod for his courageous act to unmask the extent of his pain, she needed to be his support, whether Steve would accept her as his anchor had yet to become determined.
Gathering himself up from a slumped position, the distraught supersoldier regained balance in his grounded stance, he balanced a step closer, towering over her, a strong wall of muscle and enhanced blood. The currents of sadness bashed against him, forcing the expanse of his broaden sculpt of muscles to coil into rigid tension when her shadow met his halfway. It only took an exceeding measure of brazen choice, before he fell into her arms, and used her as his shield for the first time since they reached for contact.
Taking the expense of the moment, Natasha fully wrapped him into the shielding embrace of her arms, and leveled him steady against her slender frame, rubbing his back, while her fingers were gliding over the sleeve of his jacket with slow and reverent circles, and her chin found a resting spot on the crest of his broad shoulder. "It's okay..." She soothed faintly, as she listened to a sob gurgle in his chest."Hold nothing back...I'm a tough girl."
"I never got to dance with her..." He wept against the tremors of pain, choking up his groggy words as tears dampened through her auburn strands. His arm tightened over her back, as his torso melded with her body, deeper as if he was searching for a window of eternity. He whispered against her neck, gracious for her comfort, feeling her pulse touch his lips as sobs traced his voice. "I failed to give her the thing she waited for...I never got to step on her toes."
Natasha felt a wave of heat clench against her, breaching her heart, she had never seen him so vulnerable and desperate for contact. She understood his pain, their open connection offered a sense of recaptured trust that she didn't share with anyone, not even Clint. Right there, she knew that he needed her, more than the convenience of a confiding friend. The venomous desires of Black Widow wouldn't exist in her during this rejoining with him, what she gave was real and not a tactic of deception to gain something back. She wanted to feel: to prove that she could even love if accepted by the right partner.
Today, she wouldn't disappear back into her depths, she stayed anchored to him, fully, and without the slightest hesitation to recede back. It was only when a blur of hot tears, distorted out colorful lights caressing over them that she willingly committed herself to his grief, there, she almost felt human again.
"You loved her," She murmured in a low breath, realizing that what she had with him, was more valuable and redeeming than what impulsive love affair she wanted to share with Doctor Banner. She was warring the genuine truth in her heart, seeking another distraction to keep her distant. Before she could admit to herself that love existed between them, her fleeting glance moved over his shoulder and found the framed portrait of Peggy Carter mounted beside vases of white lilies and pink roses. "And I think she always knew that, Steve."
The black and white image captured every detail, the dark eyes that held sharp wit and the lush chocolate hair that was silk to a man's touch, but it was her cherry lips that always held a kiss for Steve, and somehow the cherishing love they shared on the darkened borders of war, she knew it would be undying. Peggy's spirit lived through him, guiding him onward to the next battle, and keeping him steady with hope.
Steve was a solitary figure of time now, both in the past and future. He was carrying the weight of his own burdens on his shoulders, with only one purpose—the mission. He wanted to walk away from it all, she could sense that exhibited desire in the restlessness of his spirit. He wanted to rebuild a new life, without the shield, but his past mistakes kept dragging him down, and he was slowly fading into a ghost of frozen reflection. Unreal to her. "I think she wanted you to let go of your promise...To move on and make some new ones..."
"Maybe one day, Nat," he amended in a shudder, lost in an entanglement of regret. The power of his commanding baritone was just a warped echo through the tortured pain he tried to relent against, as his blue eyes release more tears. He recoiled back, easing his weight off her chest, and met her softened gaze, soulfully. His lips curve into a boyish sulk, he was ready to drown into a congestion of tears again, but in that moment when her hand gripped at his jacket, he began to recall the reserves of his strength. His demeanor shifted, more exposed to the heaviness of his wavering timbre. "Today, I can't give the fight, if this hits me down, I gotta just walk it off and charge into battle, like I always do."
"I'm staying with you," she implored, soft and tender, not relevantly aware that it sounded like saving to him, and threaded her fingers into his shortened blond hair, and never took her eyes off him. The warmth of his skin penetrated through her palm, she wanted him to absorb her trust again, even though, there was no guarantee that it would last, given the circumstances. His simmering ocean-blue irises grew still, innocent against her unweighted touch, and the corners of his lips curved into a taut grimace. His eyes held a distraught gleam, as tears blurred the clarity. "Right now, you look pretty much alone to walk into a fight, Steve."
He finally shifted a teary, dismal glance back and towards the altar, his eyes were fixed on Peggy's angelic face behind the glass. A breathy sob hitched in his voice."When I was alone in Brooklyn, after Buck left for London, Peggy was there to listen." He reminisced with a wistful sigh, recalling the brighter memories before the serum transformed him into Captain America, he managed to find and appreciate the trust with Peggy Carter. "I was one lucky kid that she cared enough even to talk to me. Been lucky ever since, and it's not because I'm Irish..."
"She was a rare woman," Natasha admitted coolly, with a measure of reverence tagging her husky tone as her resolve settled back to the picture. "She always had your back when you didn't look over your shoulder." She decided to let him cry, giving him silence as he collapsed into her opened arms, unable to hold everything in, and she felt the power of his body forcing her to roll back, she stayed cemented, despite the crushing pressure in her chest. "Deep breaths and release," she entreated, letting the soft brush of her voice trail away.
Processing the internal siege of pain he couldn't fight, Natasha made an attempt to stroke his back, just reaching for connection again. The radiating heat of his body met her absent touch, as she rested her cheek on his shoulder, inhaling the minty burn of his aftershave. She let him breathe again, showing no resistance as her heartbeat tamed his pulse."Just focus on the good things you had and hold onto them."
The intensive urge to close his heart completely was becoming too potent to avail. "You know it's kinda hard to focus on what I had...Not when I've lost so much. I feel like if I do choose to love another dame-I mean a woman, then I'll just let her slip away and she'll pay the cost with her life...because I'm not strong enough to save her. I can't lose someone close to me again, Nat."
"Don't think about that right now, Steve," she whispered and refused to give him distance as she regained balance and control. Her body served as his wall to lean into, offering him a chance to reclaim the brimming hope to harbor back, at first, it seemed rational for her to become a contrast of light, she always lived in the darkness of her masquerades, and kept her heart locked in chains, never once allowing a man's strength to break them, until now.
A slow trek of his tears dripped over her skin as the ridges of his muscles carve into her, and his breath heated the tender spots of her neck, as the moment extended she felt him reaching, and his arm weighed into her back, possessive as if he's afraid to let her go. He needed warmth, another voice to guide him out of the fathoms of his deepest sorrow."It's going to be okay," she promised, no false words slip from her lips. Her fingers glided over the rounded curve of his bicep, she wouldn't let him fall into lost memories."You're not alone in this, Steve."
"Thank you for always being there for me, Nat," he murmured, so faint and only for her ears to hear. He detached himself, and she felt his arms slipping off her dress, the heaviness of his Spartan body descended aback. She looked into his irises, stunning azure with a mist of gold ripping in a sheen of tears. It's the strength in his gaze that pulled her closer. She knew that he's dying inside."You should go," he dismissed her touch, slouching his shoulder to lurch back and returned to the pew; the endurance that strides within him was dimming. One shaky breath of his parting lips ended their connection."Tony doesn't like waiting."
"He can wait a little longer, Steve," Natasha refused to leave him in another replay of grief. Things couldn't be wasted in the awakening of intolerable heartache that drove so deep that he wanted the world to pass him by in slow motion in a blur of tears; he never got a chance to fully surrender his heart and soul to the utter sorrow he was plagued to carry.
Everything was impulsive and rushed when he awoke from the ice, he never did recollect his past by dialing the phone, nor searched for names of old soldiers. He strapped up his boots and headed into battle with a new team. When the ghost of Bucky Barnes was found in deadened glacial eyes of the Winter Soldier; Steve had a reason to claw his way from into past and search for his best friend through blood, sweat, and tears. When SHIELD fell into the embers of deception, Steve took on the mission of looking for Bucky across the world, nothing obstructed him as he battled his own demons until he received the call from Sharon Carter, a text message that made the pulse of his heartbeat falter with internal distress.
He took a moment to suppress the pressure welling inside his chest, knowing it will be prevailing as tear edge to be released once again, but he doesn't let the watery sting fall. He sets his resolve to the floor and his hand narrows to the pocket of his pants, where the compass is tucked inside. He denied himself the simplest pleasures of life for the last five years of being a 'man out of time' it always was the next mission that kept him going, but now, he wasn't even sure if the stalwart and patriotic sentinel of liberty was even needed. Somehow, he knew that reshaping world needs a soldier with a firm grip of the safest hands.
"You don't have to do stay, Nat," he whispered out a calm breath. He stepped away, involuntarily moving to sit down as numbness overtook his body."This is where I belong..." His lips twisted into a grimace as the devoid in his chest increased in size, and he eased down awkwardly on a pew, his hand clasped the wood, and almost knocked a song book out of a slot. He caught it before the compacted pages hit the floor, and quickly slid it back in. He slouched against the wood, his demeanor lifeless and hardened by the sickness that flooded within. "It's the only place I got left to see her again. I do owe her that."
"Do you want me to stay?"
"I don't wanna take too much of your time," he returned. "This is something I gotta do alone."
"We'll the thing is Steve, I don't want you to be alone. Not today."A sob cut loose in his throat, everything felt impending as he sunk back into despair, tasting the salt of his tears collecting on his lips. A second later, she lowered herself down next to him, closing her arms tighter over his shoulders and held onto him. The flex of her fingers stroked over his sleeve, creating a surge of energy as heat trails down the wake of her caress. "Focus on nothing else, just close your eyes and breathe," she said, her hand tracing over his tensed arm. "Breathe, Steve."
His stance resumed pliant, unmoveable. He didn't answer to the coolness of her subtle breath, as her fingers kneaded through his hair with an unhurried caress, keeping him peaceful during a rare moment of solace that seemed endearing and instrumental as the tears fall to his lips, wetting the softness of his youthful skin as she felt his heart racing thunderously against her chest.
Pain manifested, as he tried to push her warmth aside, and she watched pain hood over the clearest blue of his eyes, diffusing the light in their fierce depths. Nothing slipped from her reach. The semblance of anguish felt unbidden, as Natasha could sense that he was ransoming his indomitable strength to repossess hope as he felt cursed to stare at the world through a haze of endless heartache.
She inched another step closer, and leaned in against his shoulder, avoiding his gaze entirely. Time became intangible to her silent expanse of recollection. There was a side of him that was almost valuable to lose, the things he would say always burned inside her, the power of truth in his voice that held no conviction as the crimson rain poured out of her heart, setting each drop on fire as she fell into a uniformity of firestorms, that evoked her past to emerge but he was the purest of light that would reach into those fathoms and pull her out if she was drowning.
Eventfully, she awoke against the onslaught of mounting doubt, and she felt his muscles reflexively uncoil under the expensive material of his suit, the tense bulk loosened as her fingertips absently eclipsed over his knuckles, and the unobtrusive calm of his dejection was sated with hitches of breath. "Steve," she began almost sounding like a mantra, swallowing down a sob before the rawness in her voice carried it back. "You can't shut everyone out," she dragged her hand upward to firm sculpt of his shoulder, as her gaze landed back on the compass he was pulling out of a side pocket. "The world needs Captain America."
He stared back at her, unblinking, a calm breath released, as he recited the words that he felt branded on his rigid heart. Choosing to remove himself from a fate deemed with more tantalizing heartbreak, made him like a continuous victim of interminable regret. The love of his life is gone, his best friend is marked and soul drained assassin, and his freedom was at stake. There is no higher resolution of choice; he's existence and commitments to defend are on the verge of being detained because of the Accords.
Everything he fought to preserve will be erased if he signs over his shield and allows the government to leash him up. This wasn't the world Peggy dedicated her life and heart to protect: it's narrow division of liberty and disorder, and he wouldn't put on a uniform to become an enforcer for the new chains of command. His semblance veiled crestfallen, as he denied her ineffective words, he was a soldier, not a stocked up asset to be shackled down by paperwork if he crossed back to the path of resistance."I can't go with you, not when the fight can still be our own..."
Natasha didn't say anything, she glanced at the compass resting in his palm. His thumb stroked over the silver, as tears fall onto the newspaper clipping of Peggy's face that was glued inside. A watery smile etched over his lips as he remembered that day he first met the headstrong and scarlet-lipped British SSR agent, and all the days that followed, timeless memories that will never die. It was the remnant of the past that he had left to reflect, everything else felt stolen.
"Peg's always been…My best girl, who never steered me in the wrong direction. Boy," A faint glimmer of light was held in the depth of his azure eyes, conveying his love and defiance. "I did have my moments when I felt lost. He searched in his thoughts, looking back at Peggy's face with deep truth welled in his gaze. "All I would have to do was to just listen to her voice and somehow I made it back where I needed to be…"
"What does my voice tell you?" she whispered, holding his deepening stare.
Steve found her eyes again. A smile bled through his tears, and he felt anchored to relish in the closeness of her body. He needed to feel her heartbeat chase his. In a steady and reverent effort that seemed reluctant at first, his large hand rest over her softness of her pale cheek, as the roughness of his fingers traced the curve of her jaw; and he dared look into her irises, soulfully deep, to see the clearest oceans of blue and green, as the unspoken devotion for her became revealed in so many ways.
He allowed his watery gaze to linger, and in one release of breath, his head dipped at the mere urge to capture her lips and he graced the fullness of his mouth over her forehead, the pulse of heat grew shaky as she joined their connecting embrace, not pulling away like she always does. He closed his eyes, and with a desperate slide his palms down to her neck, his fingers entwined waves of auburn as each lifted strand caressed his knuckles, and then he finally said with an opened heart. "I think-I'm gonna say thank you, as a soldier does to his special girl."
Natasha felt her heart swelling, she tilted her face upward, slowly aligning with his lips, breath ghosted soft, tentative pressure sealed over her mouth, it was chaste and edged with desire, and she welcomed it more than anything. His breath chased the coolness of her lips, a solid pulse of reassurance followed as he wrapped her into his strength, so close that she melted into the firm planes of muscle under his tailored suit. She grieved in silence, knowing that they would never cherish something deep, but she doesn't shed a tear, his thermal warmth securing her was good enough to hold onto.
"Thanks for sticking this out with me, Nat," He buried his face into the richness of her auburn hair and he breathed freely. Strands of her hair dampened while he rocked her into a hushed pace. They were holding onto to each other. It was am unburdened and a defining moment of being soldiers to their own emptiness. The bells chimed above them, calling them back.
He couldn't let grief take control of his life. Peggy would always be his compass, guiding him into the right direction. In that moment of collecting on last memory, Steve looked sternly back at Natasha, staring into her grayish-teal eyes, he searched for trust again, even just a glimpse of it. With a tender smile tugging at his lips, followed by another wet streak of a stray tear, he took her hand into the encompassing warmth of his palm and felt a strong heartbeat again.
{The End}