Can I just say how much I love this movie? The plot, the characterization, the music, the acting...everything about this movie is simply amazing. And as you can probably tell with the title of this fic, I really love Steve in this movie xD What I'd give to watch the movie again, but alas I'm a poor student with no money for such indulgences :(
Welp. There's always fanfiction to write, so here I am!
Disclaimer: As always, I do not own any of the characters in this.
Disclaimer 2: Spoilers ahead!
Disclaimer 3: I don't own the image
[1]
The first time Steve saw Death, it was long before he had even entered the army. He was a young boy of eight then, bursting with the energy and vitality only a young soul could possess. He was climbing a tree (though for the life of him, he could no longer recall why) when the branch he was holding suddenly snapped. Steve scrambled desperately to find another stronghold, but found to his horror that there was none.
As he lost his balance and began to fall, Steve saw Him. He wasn't cloaked in black like the lores of old have said, nor did he hold a menacing scythe in hand. Rather, he was just… there. A silhouette no fainter than the shadows on a foggy day, the man stood quietly in the distance, simply watching. Steve could not see his face, but he certainly could feel those eyes staring right into his soul.
Then, there was a brilliant flash of light, and the figure was gone. He was in the world of the living once more, back flat on the prairie below the willow tree, lightning pain shooting through his entire body.
He suffered a broken leg and some bruised ribs that day; nothing that wouldn't heal within the span of a few months. When he was out of the hospital, he endured an earful from his mother on 'look where monkeying around has gotten you, you should be more careful!', before she had hugged him close, whispering 'I'm just glad you're okay, don't do anything like that again.'
He had nodded, and that was that.
He told no one about what he saw that day. A part of him wanted to attribute it to a figment of a child's overactive imagination, but something told him that it was real.
That someday, they would meet again.
[2]
The second time Steve saw Death, the war had not yet begun, but the rising tension between the nations was almost palpable.
It seemed that the military felt the same way too, for there was an open call for all eligible men to enlist into the army. To train as soldiers, to serve as the first and last line of defense against an enemy that could threaten to end it all. He was hesitant then. If he did join, what would happen if he were to die? He had, after all, a mother to care for.
So he pushed that thought aside, and continued on with his work.
xxx
On a Sunday morning, the unthinkable happened.
He was working in the village centre, absentmindedly sorting out paperwork, when a reverberating boom shook the ground beneath him. As he instinctively lifted his gaze, he watched with growing horror as a large metallic object — was it a bomb? — struck the tower just a short distance away from where he stood. The impact sent powerful shockwaves rippling through the village, shattering glass and sending plumes of dust and debris scattering into the air. Then, there were the fires. Everything, everywhere, was on fire, and there was so much screaming, so much blood, so many motionless bodies strewn across the broken road.
Amidst the screams and cries for help and salvation, Steve ran. There was only one person in his mind he wanted to see, and he prayed he was not too late.
When his destination loomed within his line of sight, Steve froze. The hospital that once stood proud and tall now lay in crumbled shambles, its cream-coloured walls now a sickly shade of grey. He tried to ignore the streaks of blood.
He vaulted over the ruins, praying fervently. Everywhere, the sight of bloodied, broken bodies, stray limbs and blood assaulted his vision. He fought back the urge to vomit and continued searching. Please let her be alright… Please…
After what seemed like an eternity, he saw her.
His heart stopped.
She was lying on her side, an ugly burn on her chest. The familiar shrouded figure was crouching above her, a hand resting gently upon her cheek.
No, no, no!
He ran blindly towards his mother and straight through the figure, who promptly dissipated in a hiss of smoke. But even as he pressed a hand to her neck, even as he gazed uncomprehending at the blank look in her face, he knew with a sinking heart that it was far too late.
On that Sunday morning, his world ended.
He held her close to his chest, silent tears leaving clear trails down his cheeks, glaring angrily at the figure that now stood in the corner of the dark room. Why did you take them? Why did you take her? Why did you spare me?
If he had expected an answer, he would have been disappointed. The man simply shook his head and vanished, leaving him alone in the devastation where only his heart beat true.
xxx
On a Sunday morning, two weeks after the bombing that claimed two hundred lives, Steve conscripted into the army.
Life as he knew it, would never be the same again.
[3]
The third time Steve saw Death, he was on the frontline of a raging battle, the wind roaring in his ears. His side was on the losing end, and morale was diminishing each time one of their men went down. But as they had been trained to, they continued to fight because it's what soldiers do. Firing shot after shot, he watched detachedly as the enemy went down one by one.
Once, a long time ago, he was proud to call himself a soldier.
Now, he didn't know what to think anymore.
It was easier, he realised, to simply think of them as just that. The Enemy. Faceless, nameless and voiceless, he told himself that the men he killed were simply ghosts of a past, that they had no loved ones to return to, that no one would care when they breathed their last.
When a bullet lodged itself into his chest and pain exploded in his ribs, he almost laughed at how foolish he had been.
As if he was watching the scene unfold from a distance, he watched as he crumpled slowly to the ground, a hand held tightly over the bleeding wound. He watched as hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him back to supposed safety, whispering words as if on a broken record, stay with us Steve; you're going to be alright. Stay with us, you're going to be alright…
He must have blacked out for a moment, because he saw Him once more. This time, the figure seemed closer, but not yet near enough to reach him where he stood. As if in a trance, he watched as the figure raised a bony arm and gave a small wave, almost as if to say Go, go, it's not yet your time.
When he was finally lucid enough to think and speak, he found himself lying on a hospital bed, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. The whitewashed walls allowed an artificial sense of peace to settle in his heart, and he realised with a detached horror how he could no longer recall the days when he did not hold a gun in hand.
When the doctor came, he did not mince his words. He was lucky — extremely lucky — to be alive. The bullet had punctured a couple of ribs, but by some miraculous luck failed to hit any vital organs. His life was not to end at the hands of a gun.
If only Steve knew then how bloody and devastating the war would become, a part of him wished it did.
[4]
The fourth time Steve saw Death, it was on a mission that had, in Sameer's words, gone to shit. Sameer's cover as well as his own were blown. The two were behind enemy lines, completely surrounded, utterly alone, out of time, and out of luck. The only means of escape was over a cliff — but there was no telling how sharp the drop would be, nor if it was something they could even survive.
Theoretically speaking, there were two options: One, surrender. Allow themselves to be captured (where they would then very likely be tortured for information). Two, jump off the cliff, and hope their luck would hold out.
In Steve's mind however, there was only one.
As the soldiers closed in, Steve grabbed Sameer, and with a loud cry fuelled by the adrenaline pumping through his blood, he launched them both over the edge of the cliff, ignoring the gasps of protest from Sameer. Taking advantage of the man's surprise, he angled his body such that he would take the full brunt of the fall. He prayed it would be enough, because no way in Hell was he going to lose someone he loved again.
When the impact came, Steve could not stop the cry of agony that tore from his lips as his back bounced off the rocks. A searing pain ripped through his sides and, unable to muster the strength any longer, he let go. He felt Sameer roll off his limp form, watched him stumble to his feet, his right hand gripping his left tightly. Broken arm — but otherwise, he's alright. He's alive.
Steve smiled despite the pain.
Steve? Steve! Come on man, stay with me…
Sameer's voice drifted into a light haze as He appeared once more before his sight. Is this the end? The figure made no indication that he heard Steve. He simply stood, unmoving. Watching. Then, for a brief moment, the fog dispelled and Steve felt the darkness recede.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Sameer's frantic face looming above him.
Steve, thank God! I've bandaged the worst of your wounds, but you're still bleeding. Help is coming soon okay? Just stay awake, please…
In that instant, he saw himself in Sameer's eyes, the fear of watching someone die all too clear in those shining brown orbs.
I can't let him live with that pain.
Fighting against the blackness that crept across the peripheries of his vision, Steve struggled to breathe as the figure once again appeared before him. You can't take me, please. Not yet.
To Steve's surprise, the man seemed to agree. Stepping back, the figure vanished into the lingering fog, and he was alone once more.
The sounds of an approaching airplane reached his ears. Locking his eyes with Sameer's own, the two shared a private smile. Sameer placed a comforting hand on his open palms, and Steve squeezed back reassuringly.
You're not losing me yet, buddy.
They had saved each other's lives that day.
Neither of them ever spoke of it however; it never was easy to put what they felt into words. It never was necessary anyway. For as the war continued to rage and as the soldiers around them continued to die, they would sometimes notice the dark rings circling the others eyes, or the occasional distant glaze that would come over them. And deep down, they know that those raw memories are still never too far away.
[5]
The fifth time Steve saw Death, he thought it would have been his last. Part of him was strangely mortified. This was the way that he would go? Drowning in the depths of some godforsaken ocean, without anything to show for it? Without returning home with the documents he had risked everything to obtain? He fought back a bitter laugh as the figure appeared before his vision once more. Take me then. Isn't this what you've been waiting for all this while?
As he sank into the black sea, the last thing he felt before giving in to the darkness was a pair of strong arms gripping his shoulders, banishing the figure away in a caress of light.
When he awoke and found a woman gazing intently into his eyes, his first thought was that he had died and gone to Heaven. But then, he was sure that Heaven did not come with the odour of petrol that still coated his uniform. He was sure it did not come with bruised skin, nor did it come with sodden boots filled with sand. And it certainly did not come with the unmistakable cacophony of boats and gunfire of the soldiers who had so relentlessly pursued him across the sea.
It would seem that Death was not ready to welcome him just yet, and a part of him found himself wondering when would be his last.
But for now, he was still alive — and he had the strange woman to thank for it.
[The Last Time]
"Bad news… it's on a timer - if we ground it here, it's the same thing."
The moment those words reached their ears, it seemed as if a blanket of silence had enveloped them all, shutting out all the sounds of the battles that raged around them. Shutting out all possibilities of hope.
His eyes locked intently on the single plane. Within its holds lay canisters upon canisters of deadly gas, set on a course to end the lives of countless innocents. If that timer were to reach zero… Steve shuddered involuntarily.
I can't allow that to happen. But… what can I do?
As he felt his heart beat heavily in his chest, as the echoes of gunfire and cries of dying men reached his ears, as the sting of shrapnel and bullet casings grazed his cheeks, the answer came.
It was all so simple.
"...is it flammable, Chief?" he began softly, not quite daring to hope just yet, hand curling tightly around the pistol.
"Yes. Since its hydrogen, it's flammable," the unassuming voice replied.
Steve closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his hammering heart.
Sameer… Charlie… Chief… Diana… I'm so sorry.
"I need you guys to clear me a path to that plane."
Without waiting for a response, he launched himself into the open and sprinted towards the plane.
"No! Steve!"
"Steve!"
The frantic, desperate shouting of his name nearly broke his heart, but he continued on.
xxx
As he ran, an explosion lit up the night sky, and saw Diana crash land in a heap on the runway. Without a second thought, he hastened his pace and helped her to her feet. Clasping Diana's shoulders tightly, he gazed into her eyes. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to drink in her soft features, willing his brain to engrave every detail of her being into his mind, enjoying the last time he would ever see her, touch her, feel her.
You look so beautiful.
Her bewildered face blinked back at him, and he bit back the tears that were brimming in his eyes.
"I have to go." His grip on her arms tightened, and he fought back the urge to simply pull her into an embrace.
"I can save today... You can save the world."
His words were wavering now, his once tightly-controlled emotions bleeding through in the undertones of his voice. Despite himself, a smile broke across his face. All these years as a stoic spy, and this lady's the one breaking down all my walls.
"I wish we had more time …"
Somewhere in the distance, he heard his comrades calling his name. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, all too aware of the sheen of liquid that brimmed in his eyes.
Smiling softly, he took her hands into his own, and pressed his father's watch gently into her palms.
~"What is that?"
" That is a watch."
"What does it do?"
" It tells the time. It tells you when to sleep, to eat..."
That tiny thing tells you what to do?"~
He paused, his lips trembling, willing the tears not to fall.
"... I love you."
When his hands left hers, it was as if a part of his soul had been ripped away. He began to run, not once looking back. Knowing that if he did, he might never bring himself to leave her side once more.
Diana's voice called out to him like a beacon of light, but he did not stop. He could not.
He would not.
xxx
He was in the air now, steadily gaining altitude.
Alone in the sky, the night air was cool upon his skin. Steve gazed back at the blazing battleground where the fighting raged on. He watched as the fiery scarlet drifted further and further into the distance, until it was little more than a tiny speck on the lands below.
For a moment, as he turned back to gaze at the expanse of the tranquil night sky, he could have sworn he saw the figure he had met so many times before standing in front of him, a sad smile on his face.
It is time.
He pulled out his pistol, and aimed it at the canisters in the aft behind.
xxx
The last time Steve stared Death in the face, he did not see the man again. Instead, he saw her.
The smiling face he had awoken to when he was first pulled from the waters all those days ago. The glossy locks of raven curls falling gently across her shoulders. The sapphire eyes gazing deeply into his soul, melting away the ice and darkness that had long since engulfed his heart. The woman who had taught him how to love, and be loved.
A small smile played on his lips, and Steve allowed himself to laugh.
If we ever meet again, may the Gods let us love once more.
He closed his eyes, pulled the trigger, and his world washed white.
A/N: -soft sigh-
Let me go cry over that final scene again.
-crosses fingers- I hope I've gotten his character right in this though...
In case some of you find something familiar, {4} was inspired by a scene from Medal of Honor.
R&R pretty please? I'd really love to hear your thoughts! :)