Support

By Carol M.

Natasha comforts Steve after he receives the text notifying him of Peggy's death.

Natasha found Steve in the stairwell, gripping the rail so tight she expected it to twist in his hand, like it was the only thing holding him up right. Holding him to the world.

Steve's soul was crushed. She'd seen it the second he'd received the text message, whatever it was. The quick way he dismissed himself from the group, desperate not to let any of them catch even a glimpse of him breaking, needing to be free from the prying eyes of his teammates so he could let himself fall apart. She followed him anyway, respectful of his need for privacy, but not wanting him to be alone, even if he never knew she was there.

Steve's grip faltered on the stairwell and he dropped like a stone, landing hard on his rear and nearly stumbling down the stairs. It would've almost been comical if not for the sudden choked sob that exploded out of Steve's mouth, the horrible wail echoing through the stairwell like something out of her nightmares. She'd never seen Steve cry before. Low, sure. Depressed. Desperate even. But not broken. Not like this. It was almost enough to break her too.

He sobbed again, his whole body shaking, the wretched, blood curling wail making her nauseous. He didn't deserve to feel whatever pain was tearing him apart. He was too good a man. To good a leader.

To good a friend.

"Steve," she breathed, his name out of her mouth before she even realized she'd spoken. Steve's shoulders clenched in surprise and a shuttering breath poured from his mouth as he tried to stop the sobs but even he wasn't that strong. His shoulders shook against the strain for one second, two seconds, three seconds and then the dam burst, and he was bawling, the tears coming out of him so hard and fast he was struggling to catch his breath.

Natasha hurried over to the stairwell and sunk down next to him, taking in his reddened, tear streaked face and his devastated eyes, the blue so intense they were nearly glowing, the pain she saw reflected in them bringing tears to our own eyes. "What is it?" she asked, placing a tentative hand of support against his quivering back.

"Peggy," he choked out simply, his face crumbling as his eyes clenched shut, more tears falling down his cheeks and splattering onto his shirt, his pants and the step underneath them.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, not needing any further explanation. Steve didn't talk about Peggy much, but Natasha knew who she was, knew that she'd help create S. H. I. E. L. D. and suspected her to be the great love of Steve's life. Even though he and Peggy hadn't been able to make a life together, it must've been comforting still having her around. Losing her now with everything he'd been through the last few years, had to be devastating.

Natasha wrapped her arm around Steve and gently pulled him towards her, letting his head rest against her shoulder, his snot and tears soaking her shirt as he really let go and allowed himself to grieve. He clung to her, his strong arms wrapping around her, his body trembling against hers. She felt oddly honored that he would trust her with such emotion and was grateful for anything she could do to ease his pain.

She let him cry it out until he didn't have any more tears left to shed. Then she just held onto him, providing silent support as he tried to steady his breath and gather up the strength to be a person again.

To be a captain again.

He picked his head off her shoulder a few minutes later, his face puffy as he desperately tried to wipe away all the evidence of his mourning. He glanced at her dampened shirt and his face reddened further in shame. "Your shirt...I am...I'm sorry. "

"Plenty more where these came from, Rogers. Not the end of the world. "

He rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment and then placed a delicate kiss on her cheek. "Thanks," he whispered, his eyes shining with gratitude.

She cocked her lip up into a half smile and then stood up on the stairs, reaching a hand down to help him up. Steve grabbed her hand and she pulled him up, his weight a tad of unsteady yet as he got himself upright. She braced a hand against his arm, allowing him time to find his feet again. He took several deep breaths to clear the remnants of his emotions, his eyes finally clearing up as he came back to himself.

Natasha removed her hand, but kept it ghosted close to him, just in case. "Come on," she said, nodding up the stairwell. "I'll help you pack. "

That's all folks!