Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Pairing: Steve/Beth (the waitress, it's on her nametag, I swear!), allusions to others.

Summary: He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth (the waitress)

Author's Note: Post Avengers, will contain some spoilers for the movie. I hope you all like it. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks for taking the time to read! Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes!


Sincerely

Part 4

"Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend."

Albert Camus


Beth isn't popular. She doesn't have many friends in New York City, she has a few acquaintances, classmates that she waves to and makes small talk with. But she doesn't really have any friends. It doesn't bother her. At least she never thought it did. She was always an odd girl growing up, always preferring art to human companionship. She was never invited to any parties back home, she went to Prom with a guy in her art class because he was nice and liked Degas. He didn't talk to her and she left half way through it, she didn't even bother looking back at the banquet hall full of people reminiscing about good times.

So, she went into University expecting the same thing. She ended up getting the same thing. At least she has a good reason. University is hard, art history is even harder, so she concentrates on her studies more than she concentrates on the people around her.

It's not that she ignores them, she talks when she has something to say and she's gotten over her original shyness when it comes to group assignments, but she doesn't really consider her group members her friends. Acquaintances of course…but friends? It never really crossed her mind and she was okay with that. Beth is okay with a lot of things. So, it comes as a surprise to her when, after a particular exhausting group project comes to a close, they invite her to come out with them. We're just going for a couple of drinks, come on, we definitely deserve it. She shrugs, says okay, because they're her peers.

(In the back of her mind, she thinks about the letter to Steve that she's aching to write).


It starts off good. They're good people. They're smart people. They're at a bar in the bottom of a club; Beth nearly chokes on the smoke (didn't they ban smoking indoors?) and orders a gin and tonic. She's not a heavy drinker, finds that she doesn't like the taste of it all that much. There is a man with a guitar on the stage, the strings playing a melody that Beth doesn't know but his voice is nice. Its deep, baritone and soothing.

She contributes to the conversation, mostly about her courses and the assignments that take all her energy and the papers that leave her near insomnia. She's excited to graduate. They're all excited to graduate. (This they can agree on).

She doesn't know how, doesn't really know why, but the conversation shifts from school to politics and they end up on the topic of the Avengers. Beth can feel her heart thump loudly against her chest. She feels her stomach erupt in butterflies and she suddenly feels claustrophobic.

There is an outspoken female, Mary, in the group, who is staunchly against the Avengers initiative and everything they stand for. Beth frowns as she listens to the rant and looks around, only to see eyes glancing at their table, their eavesdropping evident. "In actuality, they're a bunch of costume wearing entitled assholes who destroyed our city and sent us deeper in debt. Not to mention they're all male."

The only male, Derek, shakes his head. "There's the Black Widow."

"Oh yeah, a woman that wears a leather suit. As if the years of feminism don't count, now women are back to being exploited. You honestly expect me to believe that a bunch of masked crusaders were the ones who could save our city from a fucking alien invasion? It's a publicity stunt. Mark my words, it's all publicity."

"Were you in the city when it happened?" Beth asks before she can stop the words coming from her mouth.

"What?" The girl asks loudly.

"When the attack happened. Were you in the city?" Beth repeats, she can feel her face grow hot but there is something growing in the pit of her stomach, something lighting her entire being that makes her want to defend the Avengers. That makes her want to defend Captain America, Steve.

"I was in Boston visiting my family."

Beth nods, her fingers playing with the edge of the table, she takes a deep breath and looks at Mary in the eyes. "Then you have no idea what you're talking about." She shakes her head, "I'm not saying that you're not right, everyone is entitled to their own opinion but you weren't here. I was. I was right in the middle of it. I watched cars get blown up. I watched the sky split open and watched as these things flew out and blew everything up. I watched people get thrown into buildings. I watched them die. Do you know what its like to be so terrified that you forget to breathe? It's a horrible feeling."

"Obviously, you're not the only one."

"I almost died. The aliens, which trust me, that's exactly what they were, were going to kill us. They were going to blow us up but they didn't because Captain America risked his life to save us. He saved me. They all risked their lives to save us. You don't like the Avengers, that's fine, a lot of people don't, but I'm going to guess that most do and even more of them are thankful because if they didn't come, if they ignored the fact that the world was at stake, we probably wouldn't even be sitting at this table having this discussion. We could all be dead or slaves to another race."

"Look, it sucks that you had to go through what you did, but I don't see the justification in having some self-entitled asshole like Captain America become a supposed hero."

Beth thinks it's the insult to Steve and everything he does that breaks the straw. She gets up, grabs her bag and pulls it over her head, situating it on her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, "Captain America, Black Widow, Iron Man, all of them are heroes. They didn't have to do this. They didn't have to save us but they did. They gave you back your life. The least you can do is be thankful. Also, Mary, I can take a lot of things, but what I can't take is you insulting Captain America." She can feel herself trembling and she doesn't know why, but she gives Derek a small smile and tells Lucy (who was silent during the entire exchange) that she'll see her tomorrow morning, ignores the stares and whispers of the eavesdroppers and leaves the smoke-filled club behind her.

Beth realizes as soon as she gasps in fresh air, why she steadily avoided human contact; she never really fit in anywhere.

(This thought oddly makes her think of Steve).


She's exhausted both mentally and physically by the time she gets out of the club and outside. It's a crisp night, the air slightly chilly but nothing too cold. Beth sighs, and walks down the street. She sees a bench and slides onto it, she's sitting underneath a streetlamp and she decides that it's as good a place as any to write her letter. She pulls her bag over her head and opens it, grabbing her notebook and a pen. She pulls her hair into a bun and sits cross-legged on the bench, angling her knees so the light is directly on the paper.

Then she starts writing.

She doesn't know how long she writes for. All she knows is that her hand begins to cramp, so she skims through the letter and signs her name. She folds it, puts it into an envelope (after his first response she went out and bought a stack of envelope and never takes it out of her bag), cringes as she licks it and makes sure that its sealed tight. (This is her version of confidential information. This is their top-secret mission).

She knows this part of New York City, she lives in this part of New York City, so it doesn't take her long to walk to her spot. There are some people mingling around, some begging change, others just hanging around. She keeps her head down and most of the time people don't bother her. Each too busy with their own lives to care about her.

She stops in front of her designated spot and places the letter under the rock, shoves her hands in her jacket pockets and stares at Captain America's picture. He has his mask on but Beth knows, she just knows that she'd be able to recognize him if she saw him without his mask.

(His face is ingrained her mind, her heart, her soul).

She's not tired, so she walks around and cocks her head to the left. Huh, she's back where she started, at the bench underneath the lamplight so she slides back into her previous place, tilts her head back and for the first time in a very long time, she stares at the night sky with its million twinkling stars.

(She'll never admit, but it takes her breath away and she's never been so thankful to be alive than in this moment).


Dear Steve,

I got into a fight earlier tonight. Well, I suppose it wasn't really a fight so much as a disagreement. It was about you. About the Avengers but I think I snapped when she insulted you. I'm not one for conflicts, I like staying on the sidelines, I guess you could say that I'm an observer that way, but I don't think I've ever felt that much…rage in a long time. Defending what you do, defending you, I think it's become second nature to me and that scares me.

A month ago, if someone told me that I would be in a quasi-bar with actual people and getting into an argument with one of my group members, I think I would have laughed. Or maybe thought they were crazy, as it stands, it happened and I think I'm losing my grip on who I am. Does this usually happen? Do you think this is me lashing out or is it just my way of dealing with what happened?

The thing is, I have to look these people in the face tomorrow and the days after because we're in the same program and I don't know how they're going to react to me. They're not my friends per se but they were acquaintances. They helped me when I needed it. They're my group members. Will this change my relationship with them? Will they look at me differently? I've been so used to being that girl on the sidelines that I don't know how to be anyone else. In the past, I would have let it go. I wouldn't have said anything but I found that I couldn't say not say something.

You should have seen me. I thought I was going to burst. My heart was beating so fast, my hands were clammy, my stomach was churning and I felt myself burn. Is this me changing? Am I changing? I don't think I want to. I'm a discreet person. I like art. I like looking and studying paintings. I like reading. I like writing letters to you. I…I don't want to lose any of that.

You told me in your last that you don't know who the man behind the hero is, well, I'm starting to lose my sense of self too…maybe we can meet each other in the middle and find our ways back together?

Sincerely,

Beth Williams


The night is cool as Steve walks out of his loft. There's no need for disguises this time of night, it's dark and not even the bright moon can illuminate who he really is. Instead, he just zips up his jacket all the way to his chin, stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks the familiar path to the memorial.

He notices more people than there was the night before, and the night before that. He can see remnants of the old New York City make it way back into the lives of everyday citizens. He can almost see them piecing themselves together with every loud ring of laughter that echoes throughout the night. He can see it with people stumbling out of bars and clubs, halfway to intoxication but having a good time. Steve won't begrudge them this. If anything, they deserve this. Their resilience is palpable.

He shakes his head and hides a small smile. The atmosphere is electric. The city is coming alive and Steve thinks, this is how it used to be, this is how it is supposed to be.

Before he knows it, his feet have led him to the memorial and he stands before it, staring at his picture but more prominently, staring at the plain white envelope underneath a rock. He bends down, grabs it and holds it carefully in his hands. He can't help the smile that graces his lips, doesn't think he needs to help it. Beth's letters are his only link to sanity.

(Her letters are his only link to himself).

So, Steve puts the letter in his pocket and walks back to the loft.


He decides to take the longer way back. He doesn't really have a reason for it. All he knows is that the night is nice, the moon is bright and the sky is lit up with stars. For a moment, he looks up and wonders about Thor. Wonders how he's doing. Wonders what became of Loki. If Jane likes Asgard as much as Thor hoped she would. He sends up a silent thought to his friend in the sky and hopes for his sake that he's happy.

As he's walking he walks by a bench, underneath a streetlamp with a body curled lounged across it. Steve frowns. He can see blonde hair as he approaches. He slows down; he's not sure what to do in this situation. Does he keep walking? Does he ask her what she's doing out at night? His mind screams at him to keep walking, but there is something that pulls him to the body on the bench. Something that makes his heart skip a beat.

"Excuse me?" He calls out softly, as if afraid of terrifying the person.

The head tilts backwards at an uncomfortable angle. For a moment, just a moment, Steve is worried that he'll be recognized. But it's dark and the night is his only cover. "I don't have any change." She sighs (there's something so familiar in her voice).

"Wasn't going to ask for it. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

She lets out a small laugh and sits up, rubbing her hands together, "oh yeah, I'm fine. It's just…a nice night. I decided to just…look at the sky."

Steve smiles and shifts his feet. "It is a nice night. Regardless, you should still be careful."

She lets out a small snort and grabs her bag. She gets up and stretches. "My brother taught me how to pack a punch, I'm pretty good." She pulls the strap over her head and adjusts her bag, "besides, ever since the alien attack, well, the city hasn't been the same."

"But it's getting there." Steve says, thinking back to all the people he passed. His hand automatically goes to the letter in his pocket.

She nods, a bit hesitantly, as if she doesn't truly believe and then she pushes her hair out of her face. There are dozen pictures that suddenly flood his mind and Steve doesn't know what to make of them. She looks and sounds so familiar, as if he should know who she is without having to guess or without having to wonder. "Right, well, I'm off that way." She says, pointing past him.

"I'm that way." He says pointing past her.

They make their way past each other, heads down and in the opposite direction of one another. He is past the lamplight when he hears her call out, "hey!" He turns his body a little to look at her, she bites her lips and shrugs, "Do you think there's…anything up there?" Her index finger points to the starry sky. "It's just, I just spent the better part of a half-hour talking to air, which really isn't any better than what I'm doing now, because I'm talking to a guy who I can't even see properly but…I just want to know if I'm plain crazy or if maybe there's a chance someone, something is listening."

There is a sort of desperation in her voice that tugs at Steve's heart. She sounds so young, sounds so lost and oddly, he can almost picture that comment coming out of Beth's mouth (even though he acknowledges that he doesn't even know what Beth looks like). But he smiles and nods, "I think there's always someone listening." He thinks of Thor somewhere in the sky.

Even in the darkness, he can see her smile. "Goodnight." She says, as she turns around and walks away.

"Goodnight." He replies, his response echoing in the night.


(Later that night, when Beth is at home, wrapped in her blanket and staring at the night sky from her bed, she'll think of the stranger that humored her for five minutes. She'll think of his familiar voice and the familiar tilt of his body. But she doesn't even think about the familiar white envelope, shrouded in darkness, poking out from his jacket pocket).


Dear Beth,

Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion. Your friend gave hers and you gave yours. If they treat you any differently for it, than they're just intimidated that you questioned them. You're an intelligent woman. You know what you believe in and how you feel and there is nothing wrong with making it known.

There are only a handful of people that have defended me in my life and I cannot tell you enough how much your support means to me. Growing up, I had one best friend. One. I lost him years ago but not a day goes by that I don't think of him. I don't think I have had a friend like that since him. I do not think I realized how lonely I am, despite being surrounded by the Avengers. Your letters…give me a sense of hope.

You will not lose yourself. You will not lose who you are. You have spent your entire life becoming the person you are today and everything you have been through, everything that you continue to go through, will make you into the person that you want to become. There are always going to be people who argue and challenge you and you will always respond because it is what you do. You defend those who mean something to you.

One day, Beth, you are going to realize what an amazing person you truly are and until that day comes, I have no problem meeting you in the middle. It is a difficult world and everyone can use a friend to make their way through.

So, even though I lost my best friend years ago, I seem to have gained one in you and I do not think you know how much that means to me. Because it means a lot.

Sincerely,

Steve


He gets the call as soon as he seals the envelope.

He's still uncomfortable with cell phones and it takes him a moment to answer it. "Hello?" He says.

"Cap." Fury's voice is clear through the line but there is an underlining worry. "We've got an issue in Russia."

"What kind of issue?" He asks as he pulls on his jacket.

"The kind that I can't discuss over the phone and the kind that involves all of you." Fury says.

"I'm on my way."

He slips into his sneakers and all but flies out of his loft.

(The sealed envelope lies on the table).


Sigh. I don't know what to think about this chapter. I like it but hate it and I rewrote about three times until I've finally settled on this version. I hope you all like it. Also, just a heads up, I think there's going to be like three more chapters until I bring this story to a close. I think. That's what I'm aiming for, so we'll see. Knowing me, I'll probably change my mind. LOL.

Um…so the support for this story is overwhelming and ohmygod, you guys are amazing. Seriously, you are all so amazing. Words cannot even describe how much your support and reviews mean to me. I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint and if it does, I apologize a trillion times. That being said, a HUGE SHOUTOUT to my AMAZING REVIEWERS!: DarkRulerKida, spiffymac0617, wandringstar, thecatchisdeadliest, sudoku, Clevernugget, garnet86,OHDGHKDTN, It'sFun2BCrazy, MorganMDW, Currybean, IcyWaters, PhantomProducer, snowspell, angelgrl, NinjaTerra, AngelVamp6688, Itsgoose2u, Speakfire, Draceline, vampyfreak, Skattebasse, firemage23, vesperlynds, cjhar, SuoSopuli28, sax97 and comiccrazygothgirl. I apologize if I missed anyone!

Thanks!

Bex