A/N: Well, well, well, I'm back again. You guys just make me want to write more—your support has been incredible. I think it's amazing that I'm staring at my computer, typing the thoughts that come to my head, and somehow, thousands of people are going to read it. Completely astounding. Ready for another chapter?
It had been three hours, and Steve had still not woken up. Most of the doctors and nurses had left the ward after Loki had been brought up, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the evil god. Tony had been discharged shortly after he arrived and left with them, leaving an unconscious Captain America and me completely alone.
Loki had surrendered shortly after his army had fallen. He had fought for a long time on his own before this final battle, and now seeing the true power of the Avengers, realized that he was hopelessly outmatched-at least, that's how Tony put it. The team had brought him back to the helicarrier, where he was now sitting in yet another holding cell (seeing as he had released the first one), waiting to discover his fate.
The steady beeping of Steve's heart monitor had become white noise at this point. We had continued treatment after he had passed out for about an hour, until we were completely positive all of the Tesseract residue was out of his system. His wound had healed over, leaving behind only a faint pink scar.
How had my life come to this? Just a week ago, I was performing routine surgeries on average citizens in a (almost completely) normal world. I had given up on the thoughts of family, marriage, dating, happiness. The only good in my life was my ability to heal those who needed my help. Being happy was just a silly dream.
Yet, looking at the unconscious man in front of me, I felt a smile spread across my face. His toned body, blonde hair, soft facial features, those crystal blue eyes that I knew were hiding under those lids…he made me happy. I had long ago decided that men we're never really worth the risk—I had been burned time and time again, and I had resigned to the fact that love was never going to be in my future. But this man…he was making me begin to change my mind.
God, what was happening to me? I had know him for what, a few days? It had taken months for me to even consider dating the man who was now my ex-boyfriend. How could someone creep up into your heart in a matter of days?
What was I even saying? That I had feelings…for Steve? Just thinking that brought another grin across my lips. Yes…I did have feelings for Steve. There was no sense in denying it. I was interested in Steve—but that word didn't do it justice. God, I…I liked Steve. Far more than I should.
I scooted my seat closer to his hospital bed and hesitantly reached my hand up to his hair. I pushed the few golden strands covering his forehead to the side and blushed at the feeling. God, I was acting like a little girl. The way I reacted every time he looked at me, touched me, and damn, when he had kissed my forehead…
What…what if he didn't feel the same way back? I mean, like I said, it had only been a few days—and gosh, I hadn't been the most graceful person in the world. I had cried into his shirt, got knocked unconscious in front of him…I probably looked like an idiot. A freak. Who would be interested in a freak? God, why had I been so stupid? I was falling deeper and deeper into these feelings, and he probably wouldn't even cast me a second glance.
I let out a sigh, shaking my head. I couldn't think like that. I had been meticulously controlling my emotions for far too long now…maybe it was time to just see where things went.
I smiled and reached up to take Steve's hand. I glanced over at the clock, and noticed that it had already begun to creep into the wee hours of the morning. I let out a yawn I hadn't know I had been holding and put my head down, resting it horizontally on Steve's shoulder. I drifted to sleep, still holding his hand.
My eyes fluttered opened and the first thing that I registered was my head leaning on something incredibly hard, but amazingly warm. My eyes slowly came into focus, and I could make out an arm, straight in my line of vision. I went to stretch said arm out and quickly realized that my hand was trapped in something warm and soft, and that the arm I was looking at was not mine.
What happened last ni—
"Oh my god!" I shouted, jerking up right after realizing where I was. My head spinning slightly from moving too fast, my eyes registered on the smiling face of Steve Rogers. "Steve!" I shouted, jumping out of my chair and throwing my arms around his neck as he was trying to sit up. I heard him chuckle in my ear and wrap his free arm around my back, the other propping himself up in a half-sitting position.
"Hi," he whispered, and I laughed at his nonchalant greeting.
I pulled back, still grinning like an idiot. I sat on the edge of the hospital bed and shook my head. "You're ok," I said, reassuring myself more than him.
"Thanks to you," he replied, still smiling as well. I looked down his chest to where the scar was, and noticed that it had faded even more in the past few hours. I let my fingertips gently brush against it and I felt his muscles tense underneath my touch. The pink line continued to fade until it was nearly invisible.
"How do you feel?" I asked, the doctor in me coming out.
"Fantastic," he answered. "How did the end of the battle go? Did they capture Loki?"
I nodded. "I'm not sure if you saw, but Stark made it out of the portal in time. Loki surrendered pretty shortly after—he's in one of the holding cells now."
He smiled. "Good," he said, nodding his head. "What about you? How are you?" His nose scrunched in worry.
"I'm good," I replied, nodding my head. "Better now that you're awake."
Steve's smile faded, a serious expression overtaking his face. "How bad was it?"
I looked away and folded my hands. "I couldn't heal you," I whispered, ashamed to admit it. "The energy in the spear, it was burning your skin, and…I couldn't touch it. It burned my hand." Steve frowned and reached out to unclasp my hands from each other. He held them out in front of him, running his thumb over my scarred fingertips that I hadn't healed on their own. "They'll heal in time," I assured him. "It just has to happen naturally, I guess."
He shook his head gravely, not looking away from my hands. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "This is all my fault."
I turned my hands around in his, grasping his wrists. "Steve, don't say that. That's ridiculous. None of this is your fault." I kept persisting that he hadn't needed to apologize, but he just continued to shake his head.
"If I had just been paying attention, I wouldn't have gotten hurt, you wouldn't have had to—" he insisted.
"Steve." I shook my head, losing my patience. "Just stop, please. I'd do it a million times over if it meant that you'd be ok."
Steve looked up into my eyes—one of those incredibly intense, see-my-soul-kinda stares. His eyes just dug into mine and I was having a hard time remembering how to breathe. "Thank you so much. I'll never be able to repay you for what's happened to you, but I'm going to try, no matter the costs. Thank you."
I opened my mouth to respond, but no sounds came out of my throat. I felt a blush creep up onto my cheeks and I looked down at my hands. Did he know what he was doing to me? Did he enjoy toying with my emotions? It sure seemed like he did.
"I wish I was more like you," I whispered, still not meeting his gaze. "So honest, so sincere, so…good."
He breathed out a chuckle, a response I had not expected, and I looked up at him in shock. "You think too highly of me," he answered. Oh, he had no idea. "And you don't see yourself very clearly." I lowered my head once again so he wouldn't see my blush, but it was clear that he had taken notice of it by the similar flush that had painted his cheeks. "You're…" he paused, clicking his tongue in frustration. "I'm not good at talking to women," he mumbled, clearly flustered.
I chuckled and shook my head. "You don't have to be nervous about what you say around me," I insisted. "I'd never think you were stupid. I'm just as bad with words as you most of the time."
He laughed, regaining the confidence to look me in the eyes. "So you admit I'm bad with words?"
I laughed with him, shaking my head. "You know what I meant!"
He put his hands up defensively, still chuckling. "Just teasing. But, all joking aside…you're an i-incredible dame—I mean, woman! Sorry, old habits die hard…" Steve's face was bright pink and he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. I chuckled and reached up to push back the one lock of hair he missed. His face only flushed more.
"I don't mind," I promised, giving him a big smile. "But thank you. I appreciate it." Steve simply nodded, not looking me in the eyes, his face still painted with a blush, a nervous smile gracing his lips. "You're not so bad yourself."
We both laughed at my teasing—he out of embarrassment, me due to the fact I had just spoken the understatement of the century. "So, I have to ask," I began after the laughter had died down. "And if it's too personal, then you don't—"
"No, it's fine," Steve said, offering me a shy smile. "I want…I, uh, want you to be comfortable around me. So go ahead." I swear, that boy blushed more than I did.
"The night before I came on the helicarrier, Fury asked me to read through everybody's files," I told him, wringing my hands. "And, I, uh, well, I read about a Peggy Carter, and I was wondering…" I let my sentence drag out, unsure of how to continue.
Steve took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I was planning on telling you," he began, folding his hands in his lap. "I just never really found the right time."
"Steve, you don't have to talk abou—"
"No, I want to tell you." Steve looked up at me, sending me another of his ultra-intense stares. "You deserve to know. Peggy Carter was…" he paused, smiling at the memory. "She was the first woman I ever loved."
My heart couldn't help but sink, but I tried not to let it show. "She…I met her before I had the…procedure done. She talked with me, like an equal. No woman had ever even cast me a sideways glance—I was just little Steve from Brooklyn. But, sometimes…sometimes I miss little Steve. But that's beside the point." Steve looked around the room, his gaze settling for the far wall. "Before and after the procedure, she believed in me. When I was performing shows for war bonds, she always told me I was destined for better. So when I got word that my friend Bucky had been captured by HYDRA, I wasn't sure what to do—but Peggy had faith in me. So I went after him. And I brought him back."
I nodded. "I read that. You brought back over 400 people, Steve. That's…astounding. You really are a hero."
Steve blushed, shaking his head. "I…I did what I had to do. But Peggy was always there for me. She saw more in me than I ever did. And God, I fell for her. She was beautiful, charming, intelligent…I kissed her, just before I hopped on Schmitt's plane. And, as you know…I didn't get off that plane for over seventy years."
"Steve," I whispered, grabbing his hand. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have asked—"
"How many times do I have to tell you I want you to know?" Steve interrupted, cracking a smile. I shyly grinned in return, embarrassed. "But Peggy would tease me, because I had never danced with a woman before—I had told her I was waiting for the right partner. So, when I spoke with her just before I crashed the plane, we set a date to go dancing…I woke up, expecting to go on a date, and instead found out she had died two years ago."
I knew nothing I could say would comfort him, so I just let him hold my hand as he took slow, deep breaths. "It was hard, at first," he whispered, finally turning to look me in the eye. "I missed her, and I couldn't accept the fact that I had missed out on her whole life. But…she would've wanted me to be happy. So I moved on."
I looked at my hand in his, and asked the question that had been at the front of mind during his whole story. "Do you…have you really moved on? Do you think you'll ever love someone like you loved Peggy?"
I heard Steve inhale deeply, and then he placed his other hand on top of mine, cushioning my one hand in between both of his. "I'm ready to love someone again. I'm ready to make a new life—I want to. And…I-I think I'm starting to." I looked up into his eyes and saw his face was flushed all the way down to his neck. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a shy smile and I returned it.
"Hey guys?" Agent Hill's voice came from the front door of the medical ward. "Fury wants everyone in control in ten." She ducked out of the room, leaving Steve and I alone again.
"We should probably go," I whispered, my hand still in his. "We've been gone awhile."
"Yeah." He stood up, pulling me with him. "Gosh, I can't wait for life to go back to normal—or, as normal as it can get."
I laughed, pulling his hand behind me toward the door. "Me, too. We'll be able to have a conversation for once without getting interrupted."
Steve squeezed my hand. "I'd like that. Just the two of us."
I blushed and gave him a smile, nodding my head. "It's a date."
A/N: I wanna barf all over this chapter. It came out horribly. I've tried to fix it a million times, and I know this all needs to happen, but it just didn't come out right. I'm really sorry. But, I've officially finished the outline for the rest of the story—I know exactly what's going to happen from here on out, it's all just a matter of writing it. So, I'm sorry with this mediocre chapter, but I promise, I'll continue the story at a much better quality. You have my word.
