Just letting y'all know, I changed the dream sequence in Ch. 5, which affects the dream in this one.

Chapter Seven
✭

The next morning, I found a plate outside the bedroom door, with two pieces of toast and a note on it.

It was a surprise; earlier, I heard Steve knocked once on the door and say something, but I had been half-asleep and didn't catch it.

Honestly, I almost didn't take it. Almost. But then I remembered I had never finished dinner last night. Maybe Steve remembered, too.

I quickly dragged it inside before Steve could notice the door was open. This time, I made sure to lock it behind me, glanced at the shaded windows (no sunlight or spies for me), before looking down at the note.

It was short. Took me about half a minute to read through the cursive.

If you ever need to talk, I'm here.

I contemplated the note for a long moment before putting it back down on the plate, exchanging it for the toast. I didn't hesitate to eat that, and actually managed to enjoy the taste of honey jam for a hot second. I ate sitting on the floor, my back against the door, glad to have my grumbling stomach appeased.

The clock read 10:43AM. I had not left the bedroom since I hid in here last night.

Steve had knocked on the door a few more times over the night and earlier this morning, to no response. I had figured he must have given up.

Picking the crumbs off the plate and nibbling on them, I guessed maybe he hadn't.

I smiled a little bit, but it dropped all too soon. That dull headache behind my eyes returned, as well as the exhaustion of a sleepless night.

The bed sat before me, sheets untouched. Waiting.

I went back to safe, windowless shadows of the closet.

~o~

Fragments of my past, haunting me.

That same nightmare came back. The white forest, the snow, the whistling bitter wind in my face. The Winter Soldier, leading the way in complete silence.

But something was different this time.

I wasn't sure what it was in the beginning. At first, the only difference I noticed was the sudden chill, the cold that bit into my skin. The pain wasn't numbed anymore. I could feel the sting in my cheeks, winced at the rising shrill of wind. But it wasn't snowing as heavily. The fog not as thick. Just like last time, I followed in the soldier's trail, matching him footstep for footstep in the deep snow.

My legs seemed to be on autopilot, and I stared at the back of the soldier's head.

And just like last time, the thought entered my head: This is your chance. Kill him and run.

But the rifle was too heavy in my hands. My arms were wet cement. I couldn't move them no matter how much I tried. I struggled telling apart nightmare from memory. I was trapped in my own body, my own head, unable to do anything but watch it all play out.

I never stopped trying to fight.

I should have been trying to wake myself up, but I was never any good at lucid dreaming. This felt too real to ever be just a dream.

What should have given it away was when a boy and a girl suddenly appeared in front of me, racing through the forest; the same girl and boy as before. The girl, blonde braid flying in the wind as she rode on a skateboard, the boy pushing her from behind. Laughter echoed, distant and bouncing, as if coming down a long subway tunnel.

I paused, stared as they went past. The only time I felt in control of myself.

The soldier did not turn around. He didn't seem to see or hear anything I did, as usual.

On we walked, not stopping for any breaks. I noticed the trees here weren't so bare — some of the pines still had some needles, providing overhead coverage. A bird, here or there.

But the sky remained an endless expanse of thick white clouds, the horizon hidden by mountainsides in every direction I looked.

Far from home.

Once again, the soldier came to a stop ahead of me. I joined him, discovering ourselves at the edge of a treeline, a cliff. A valley, below us.

He pointed down the slope. I expected to see another deer, but instead, there was a small village, a road leading out. The houses were all small, made of stone, and their streets unpaved. From up here, we had a perfect view of the town center, the church tower the tallest building in the entire area.

It seemed so…cozy. The town center seemed to be a market, little rows of stalls and people circling around like ants.

This time, when the soldier brought me in close, he had a small, grainy photo in his hand. The portrait of a man with a thick handlebar mustache, dark eyes and a friendly smile. There was a distinct mole on his right cheek.

"This is your target." The soldier whispered.

I didn't know how long it took to find him. All I knew was my knees in the snow, the both of us still as statues as we scanned the little town. The soldier with a small pair of binoculars. Me with my scope. I imagined we would've been in that exact position for days, if that's what it took, waiting for that man to arrive.

And all that time, I wanted to run. I knew what was going to happen.

I couldn't let it.

"Там."

The soldier's tone was quiet, but I had gotten so used to the silence that his voice made me jump. He pointed to a spot east of the village. I squinted, and watched as a vehicle emerged from around a bend below. An old Jeep, chipped brown paint, heading towards the village.

I readied myself without needing the order. Made sure the rifle was loaded, before following the vehicle through my scope. This was a greater distance than the deer had been. I would need more care to account for wind, and the arc of the bullet.

I could not miss.

I had to miss.

I didn't want to do this, but my body wouldn't listen. I couldn't tear my eyes away, unable to stop watching as the Jeep came to a stop just outside the village, at the front of a little house. The driver of the Jeep got out, before opening the rear passenger door.

Out emerged the man. The target. Handlebar mustache, cheek mole, thick fur coat. He clapped his driver on the shoulder with a smile, as thanks, and began to walk around the car, to the front door of the house.

The back of his head entered the crosshairs.

"Сделай выстрел." The soldier ordered.

Something in my chest lurched. My finger froze over the trigger. Breath caught in my throat. Tongue dry.

Don't do it. Don't do it. Resist.

"Сделай выстрел." The soldier repeated, his voice tensing. The target was now on the stoop of the house. He was raising his hand to knock.

Soon, he would be inside, and it would be too late.

Still, I couldn't move.

This isn't who you are.

I wanted to listen. I was trying so hard. I could feel parts of my body responding to me. A twitch of my head, a wriggle of my toes. I could do it. I could break out. I could run.

If you do this, there's no turning back.

I sensed, rather than saw, the soldier turning his head to me. I didn't dare look up to meet his gaze. If I didn't do this, if I failed, there would be no remorse in my punishment.

But it would be better than to take a life.

Better than to become a monster.

A metal hand clenched around my shoulder. "Take. The. Shot."

My arms tensed around the weapon.

No. You are not a killer.

The door to the little house opened. A squat woman greeted the man with open arms. They were smiling, laughing.

I leaned forward. My thoughts were racing, panicking. This isn't me. They can't control me. I am stronger, I am stronger, I will not kill, I am not a —

CRACK.

The target jolted, as if he'd been shoved. Then he fell forward, revealing woman standing in front of him. The man landed hard, sprawling across her doormat.

The woman threw her arms up, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Her face, splattered in blood.

~o~

My eyes flew open.

The darkness that greeted me was so different from the dream that at first, I didn't know where I was. My heart was racing and my neck was cramped, and it wasn't until I shifted and felt the wall behind me and a coat brushed my shoulder did I remember I was still curled up inside the closet.

The small space no longer felt comforting. Suddenly feeling stifled, unable to breathe, I shoved the door open with my heel and tumbled out, trying not to gasp for breath.

I braced myself against the carpeted floor. I stared at my splayed fingers. The memory of holding that rifle was still hot in my mind, heavy in my hands.

I didn't realize I was shaking until I made myself stand up. My shirt clung to my body, cold sweat chilling in the night air. I glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

Three in the morning.

Fantastic.

Two days had passed since my… episode, and I did not leave the apartment. Hell, I barely left the bedroom, and spent my time staring at the walls, my phone, or in short, fitful naps of the insomniac. I couldn't remain asleep longer than an hour. I didn't want to.

This night had been the worst so far. The nightmares that I had been anticipating all this time finally pounced, and left me a shaking, sweating mess.

I glanced back at the closet; my wretched little sanctuary for the past two, almost three nights now. Rubbing my arms, I already knew I wouldn't be doing that again. It could protect my paranoia in the daytime. But at night? Nothing could keep away the nightmares.

It felt as though I hadn't gotten any sleep at all. I felt more exhausted now than I had the previous morning.

At the same time, a restlessness overwhelmed me. Standing up felt better, but I had to move. To think. To… I don't know. Just not be here anymore.

Opening the bedroom door carefully, I peered out into the dark hallway. I couldn't hear anything — hadn't heard anything as far as I could recall. Steve must still be asleep. Not wishing to disturb the silence, I crept out, stepping carefully over the hardwood floor; I couldn't predict where it would creak, so just went for the lightest footsteps I could manage.

Moonlight filtered in through the living room windows, casting the space in a soft blue-white light. I glanced at the couch, and frowned when I saw that it was empty. Where was Steve?

I looked around, behind me, towards the kitchen. He didn't seem to be here. Maybe he was in another room.

Fine by me. I wanted to be alone anyways.

Approaching one of the windows, I fumbled around for a bit before I figured out how to open it. There was no handy fire escape or balcony for me to brood on, and I wasn't daring enough to sneak out onto the roof (just yet), so an open window would have to do. The pane opened by angling out, so I couldn't really lean out that far. But it was all I needed for the moment.

Cold night air rushed in. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can't sleep?"

Jumping, I cursed, then wanted to kick myself for letting that out. Behind me stood Steve, leaning against the bookcase, the upper half of his body hidden in shadow. I hadn't heard him come in. I opened my mouth, scrambling on what to say; apologize for my language, give a witty retort, or maybe swear again.

Instead, I bowed my head. "...Yeah."

"Me neither," Steve replied, his tone so casual. As if the fact that we hadn't really spoken for two days was an issue. He just sauntered over, sitting on the window seat opposite me, easy as could be; like the last time he saw me wasn't in the middle of a panic attack. He was dressed in a loose shirt and some black sweatpants — pajamas?

The moonlight glinted off his blue eyes, turning them silver. He had a sort of half-smile on his face. Part amused, part chagrin. "Couch is too soft. I take it the bed doesn't suit you, either?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I hadn't used it, even once. Unable to meet his gaze, I focused on his socks and mumbled, "Yeah, something like that."

The way Steve could be so calm, friendly had completely disarmed me. I didn't expect this to be the way our first conversation started after that whole episode. We had interacted in small ways; the most direct way was texting me intermittently. The first day he asked if I wanted to call Aunt May, wanted to go home. I said no; as terrible as I felt, I didn't want to go home to May and explain what happened. I certainly couldn't lie about it, and Steve would no doubt give her a full briefing.

As far as I knew, Steve kept his word and didn't tell her. At least, I hadn't gotten any calls from Aunt May, which was a good sign. She wouldn't hesitate if she knew something was wrong. After that, Steve would ask me more mundane questions; usually if I was okay.

All of my replies were monosyllabic. But I made sure to reply to most of them.

"How're you feeling?" Steve asked.

"Oh," I blinked, stirred out of another reverie. I hugged my legs to my chest. Resting my cheek on my knees, I could look out the window and not feel pressured to meet his gaze. "I'm… okay. Better, I guess. A little bit."

It sounded a lot like a lie.

"Nightmares?" he guessed, tilting his head. Gentle, inquisitive.

I could sense the topic dancing at the edge of our conversation. I focused on a street lamp across the road, its light flickering over the sidewalk. "Yeah."

"I get them, too."

I lifted my head, eyes widening slightly at him. Steve looked so relaxed lounging there, while I was a wound-up ball of tension. How could he have nightmares? "You do?"

"Well, when I'm not tossing and turning all night, sure," Steve shrugged, making a face. "It's not as bad as it used to be. When I first woke up here, they were constant. But now, I don't know. It got better, over time. My biggest problem is just finding the right mattress now."

It was meant as a lighthearted joke on a serious topic, and it actually worked. I laughed. A hoarse, weak little huff, really, but genuine nonetheless. "Yeah, I'm not used to sleeping on a real bed, either."

It wasn't until the mirth froze on Steve's face did I finally hear myself and I shut down. Mouth snapping close, eyes averted, head turned away.

Why did I say that. Why did I say that. Such an idiot.

Steve didn't say anything. My neck prickled from his gaze, and it took all my strength to keep my hackles from rising.

At length, he said, "Mia, I want you to know that you can trust me. You can talk to me. And if you don't want to, that's okay, too."

Fingers tightened into my jeans. I clenched my jaw, watching that streetlamp like my life depended on it. A part of me really did want to tell him. To just unload, if nothing else. And what if Steve was the only person who could understand? I didn't have anyone else in my life that I could potentially trust with the whole story right now. Not even Peter. The twins, once, but they weren't here right now.

Someone I didn't have to worry I'd hurt or scare with this information.

But the thought of revealing my current nightmare was too awful. My skin crawled and my eyes burned just thinking about it.

Pushing it back, I struggled to keep my face even. I was probably failing miserably. But could I really trust Steve? I wasn't even sure who he worked for. Maybe he was mature, experienced enough to hear the story, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be just as disgusted as anyone else.

Fear made my heart skip a beat.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. Not talking was okay, too.

He had nightmares, too.

Steve sighed. Maybe he knew he'd gone too far, pushed too hard. Didn't know how to backpedal after I made that slip. Rubbing the back of his neck, he started to say, "Mia, I'm sorry, I won't ask —"

"I thought it would be over," I whispered. "I thought it'd be over when I got home."

I was so caught up in my own thoughts I hadn't realized I'd interrupted him. When I realized I had, I flushed and glanced at him, embarrassed. But Steve was just staring at me; a tiny nod to keep going.

Discomfort climbing up my back like a spectre, I went back to studying the seat upholstery. Continuing quietly: "Even after I found out Mom died, I thought I still had a normal life waiting for me. That I could just fall back into it, like an old habit. That I could put behind everything that happened and just move on."

I didn't know how to explain everything that happened after the fact. Then again, Steve probably already knew. "But obviously, that wasn't the case."

"When that Mandarin thing happened?" I took a deep breath, straightening my back, having finally summoned the will to meet Steve's gaze again. His face was unreadable, a slight frown, but it meant I could speak without hesitation. "I jumped right into it. Everything I tried to do to be normal? Right out the window without a second thought. Risking my life for who knows what. And the funniest thing? After it was all over, I had the best sleep of my life."

I just hunched up my shoulders in a helpless shrug, laughing without humor. "I mean, that's messed up, right? After everything that I've gone through, everything I've seen, and it doesn't stop me. I wonder if there's something wrong with me."

Steve's frown deepened, but he didn't answer that.

"But at least it's not worse, right?" I finished with a wry, broken smile.

Steve sighed through his nose. I guess that was a lot to take in; I didn't realize how much I was rambling and now I was starting to feel mortified, and had to break eye contact again. Look out the window, work my jaw and fight against the tears again. What an idiot. What a fool. Why did I say all that?

That's when a hand rested on my shoulder. Steve had leaned over, and now gave me a gentle shake of reassurance.

And said: "No."

I blinked, caught off guard. Steve looked me dead in the eye as he continued, "You don't have to be grateful that it isn't worse, Mia. Just because you're not where you were before doesn't mean it's all better now."

"...Oh." Was my oh-so-eloquent reply. I didn't know how to respond to that; something in me said those words were important, but I was struggling to unravel them. All the same, I felt a strange lightness in my chest. A sort of sense that, maybe, everything would be okay.

Still feeling a little lame on how to respond, I added, "Thanks."

Nice save.

Apparently assured that I had received the message, Steve nodded and pulled back. I watched him for a moment before asking, "What do you do, then? About the nightmares?"

Steve had to think about that. "Not sure. I don't really have a cure for it. But doing this, getting fresh air, even exercise sometimes, it helps. Netflix is also a great help."

"You have a Netflix account?" I snorted, disbelieving. But from the look on his face, I realized he was serious. "No way. I didn't think you'd go for that sort of thing."

"What, you don't remember our last conversation?" Steve asked, smirking. It was dangerously close to a bad topic, but he managed to steer it away with: "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can't get with the times. I bet I know a lot more than you think. I even take suggestions, from time to time."

"Really?" I said, sitting back to stretch out my legs and fold my arms. It was a more open position, and my back had been starting to cramp up. "So if I tell you to watch something from this millennium, you'll do it?"

"I guess it depends, but sure."

Grinning, I already knew what I wanted to suggest. "Have you seen TopGun?"

"...That's the one with that Tom Cruise guy, right?"

"Yes, him! Me and Peter love that movie. If you haven't already, you have to see it."

"This is by far the most excited I've ever seen you and that scares me, to be honest," Steve said with a completely straight face. "Do I really want to do this?"

"Yes!"

"Alright, alright," he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll add it to the list, don't worry."

Extremely pleased, I sat back, letting my shoulders drop. What felt like a mass of tension had left my body, a weight lifted, my mind brought to a better place. Even if temporarily.

Funny how things work out.

"Hey," Steve began quietly, pulling something out of his pocket and offering it to me. "I know this is kind of late, but consider it a belated birthday present. Just something I wanted you to have."

He placed a small, cylindrical object into my hand, a long cord attached. My brow furrowed, confused. I flipped open the cover, discovering the floating needle inside.

It was a compass. Steve's compass.

My jaw dropped and I whipped around to look at him. "This — this is your —"

"Yep, the one and only," Steve gave a definite nod, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. Then he dipped his head, expression fading slightly. He clasped his hands together. "Look, I, ah, I know I haven't been the best. But I want you to know, Mia, I'm not giving up on you. So, try not to give up on me just yet, okay?"

I pulled my eyes from the compass to meet his gaze, uncertain. "I...I'll try."

He smiled. "If you want me to hang around, just say the word. I'll be with you till the end of the line."

I stared at him, then back at the compass. I ran my thumb over the slightly scratched glass covering the needle. Although the device was over seventy years old, it felt much newer. It was small, but the green metal casing gave it a solidness. A little dinged, a little scratched, hardly perfect, but somehow more valuable than I could describe. Markings of a war I'd only read in books and seen on screen. And there was a weight to it, a mass greater than its physical size in my palm.

A burning rose behind my eyes; I was suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion I didn't know how to describe. Steve's words had struck me far deeper than I anticipated.

Tears bit at the surface, and I quickly wiped them away before Steve could see. But the little sniffle ratted me out, and I was screwed.

"Oh, hey," A gentle hand landed on my back. Steve leaned in, his brows rising in worry. Perhaps even a little bit of panic, clearly not expecting this reaction. "Uh, it's — it's okay. I'm sorry, if it's not right, I didn't mean to upset you, Mia —"

"N-no, it's not that," I shook my head, teary smile half-hidden behind my raised sleeve. Once it started, it was hard to stop. With shaky voice I said, "I-I love it, it's just…"

When I didn't speak for a long moment, Steve frowned. "What? What's the matter?"

How could I say it? The guilt rattled in my bones, taunting. Here Steve was, giving me a sacred piece of his past. Or at least, I thought it was sacred. Point was, I knew why he was doing it, and it all felt wrong. I couldn't accept the compass knowing it was given to me on false premises.

I couldn't live with my cowardice anymore.

"I don't deserve it," I whispered, voice hoarse; any louder and it'd break. I studied the compass, pressing my lips together, my heart aching. "Because I'm not — I'm not your daughter."

It was like a gunshot, ringing through the air and leaving nothing but its chilling echo, and dead silence behind. I closed my eyes, tensing for the hit to land. I had no idea how Steve would respond. My fist tightened around the compass, already hating the idea that it would be taken away.

"I know."

At first, I thought I misheard him. But my hearing never lied. My head jerked up, eyes snapping open. "What?"

I turned to Steve, completely caught off guard. He just sat there, elbows on his knees, looking at me evenly. And shrugged.

He just shrugged.

"I know," he repeated, looking not the least bit surprised. Didn't break my gaze, or offer an angry retort. When he realized I was still stunned, his blue eyes twinkled in laughter. "Mia, come on. I'm not an idiot. I knew as soon as I got the news that you weren't mine. And believe me, Tony told a convincing tale. I'm sure he still believes we're related. But clearly, we both know that isn't the case."

My eyes drifted from his face, staring out the window into the night sky and city lights. Jaw still hanging open, I couldn't stop my mind from reeling. This entire goddamn time…

"Wait, so if you knew this whole time," I demanded, tears suddenly gone, replaced with complete bewilderment. I waved my hands wildly, gesturing to him. "Why even — why even bother meeting me? Staying? You didn't have to do… any of that. Of this! I'm not your responsibility. I mean, saying you're my dad? That's a big deal! Why pretend?"

"I don't know. I suppose I was just curious," Steve looked almost as baffled as I did, but he looked far more amused about it. "And your Aunt never would've let me in that door otherwise. I just wanted to meet you, another super soldier. We're a surprisingly small demographic, in case you didn't know."

Huh. He had a point. I could only shake my head in disbelief. Ever since I met him months ago, I had been terrified of him finding out the truth. And for it all to come out, like this?! Unbelievable. "And it doesn't bother you that I've been lying this whole time?"

"It did occur to me," Steve admitted, but again, he shrugged. "I wondered if you were scared, and didn't say anything because of your Aunt. And if you really did believe it, I didn't want to put needless doubt in your head by questioning you. Either that, or you just needed an answer. Someone to be there for you. I didn't mind. It seemed like the right thing to do."

I huffed, falling slack against the wall. "So that's just it then? It was just that easy?"

"Well, I wouldn't say easy. And I do feel responsible for you, Mia," Steve continued, in a more sincere tone, eyebrows pinching up. "But maybe that's just how I am. That's why my original point still stands. I'm with you for as long as you need me, Amelia."

I fixed him a skeptical look. "To the end of the line?"

"To the end of the line."

I pursed my lips, nodding slowly after taking a second to absorb all that. The long-standing terror that I felt was finally abating, replaced by something stronger. Better. Glancing up, I noticed the sky was starting to lighten; pink and orange seeping in, morning on the horizon. Even the traffic was starting to pick up, even if only by a few new cars that hadn't been there before.

Boy, was I gonna suffer tonight.

I looked back down at the compass. It pointed away from the sun, towards me, wobbling as I tilted it to face the light. Not remembering if I said it before, I suddenly blurted, "Thank you! By the way. If you're letting me keep this."

"Oh, it's all yours now." Steve chuckled, waving his hand as if he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Sitting back, he continued, "You know, that compass has been through a lot. Got me through a war, and a few other things. I figured you should have it; hopefully it'll help you as much as it helped me. You know, er, keep you pointed in the right direction."

"Or if I get lost in D.C."

"That, too."

Pleased, and more than a little relieved, I took the cord and slung it around my neck, the compass coming to rest down my midsection. Looking back up towards the coming day, I glanced at Steve and asked, "Think it's too late for bedtime?"

"Too early, if you ask me," Steve said, raising his eyebrows with a smirk before getting up with a light grunt. "This is usually the time I get up."

"Oh, my god, you're insane."

"It's what I do," Steve replied with a one-sided shrug, looking not the least bit concerned. Heading to the kitchen, he stretched his arms and shoulders, and I winced a little as he turned on the light. "Some coffee sounds good about now."

"With our metabolism?"

Steve paused as he grabbed the coffee pot. "It's the idea that counts."

Well, I had already decided I wasn't going to bed, and as exhausted as I was, it wasn't the kind that begged for sleep just yet. My head was tired, but not my bones. I still felt a little restless. And as reassuring — and enlightening — as that recent conversation had been, I was still not quite settled.

The fact that Steve knew this whole time, and just went with it because he's just that noble really threw me for a loop. I'd be stuck on that one for a while.

I, too, had to stretch as I rose from my spot. Curled up like that was too much like being stuck in the closet, so it felt like I had even more kinks to work out than before. "So what do you usually do at this hour? Contemplate the meaning of life?"

"I actually make some breakfast first before I do any of that," Steve replied, with just a hint of sarcasm. When I threw him a look, he winked at me. "Cereal or pancakes?"

"Pancakes."

"Fantastic, I'll learn just for you." Steve said. Then he turned to me, his features suddenly brightening. "Hey, you wanna go for a jog with me?"

I slumped against the counter on the other side of the kitchen. "Sure, why not."

"Great." The smile that grew on his face just then spoke only of one thing: trouble. "There's someone I want you to meet."

I almost had Mia shilling for the Mission Impossible movies before I remembered that the latest two weren't out in 2012/13. Also, if you haven't seen them, you should watch them (skip the 2nd movie, no one needs it).