A/N:
Ok. Before I get started, I would like to remind everyone that Steve is Catholic in this story, based off of his Earth-616 self. There are a LOT of references to Catholic doctrines, beliefs, practices and services in this. I have studied Catholicism and have returned to being a Catholic in a similar way to Steve...hence how I know these things. I am not an expert, but I am well studied. There is a homily in here that was inspired by a real homily I attended and the priest who gave it is the inspiration for the priest in this story.
If you have any questions about the Catholic stuff in here, I'd happily give answers via PM.
Note: I own nothing.
Title comes from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame. Enjoy!
God Help the Outcasts
A few hours later
Steve slowly rose out of unconsciousness. A dreamless sleep was so unusual for the Super Soldier, and it was a bit disorienting to rise from such a sleep.
But he wasn't about to complain about getting some much needed sleep.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked around, and noticed that Natalia was missing.
He was on his feet in a flash, noting that her bed was also gone, but she was gone nonetheless. He walked with hurried steps towards the door of the Burn Unit room. Just outside of the door, he noticed a male nurse. Catching the name on the man's badge, he called out to him.
"Uh…Brian?"
The man lifted his head, and Steve could have sworn he was looking at Jim Morita. "Yes, sir?" The man answered, his voice thick with a Chicago accent.
"Is Ms. Romanova in a test?" Steve asked, swallowing thickly. "Is she awake?"
The Asian man nodded, slowly. "Yes, she should be back from her test shortly. And no, sadly, she has not woken up yet." He smiled lightly, showing off his white teeth. "Would you like me to get you anything?"
The soldier shook his head, relaxing a bit, knowing that Natalia was safe. "Are any other visitors for her here?"
Brian nodded, locking up his computer. "They are waiting in the waiting room down the hall. I can take you there."
"If it's no trouble," Steve replied, pretty sure he could find the room himself in the man needed to get some work done. "I'd appreciate it."
Brian stood and led Steve down the hall to the waiting area, where the blonde was greeted by four sets of eyes.
"I'll let you know when she returns," Brian said before leaving them be.
Steve nodded his thanks and resisted the urge to shove his hands in his pockets as he walked into the waiting area.
"Looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up," Sam jabbed, a smirk spreading across his face.
The Super Soldier rolled his eyes and sat beside the dark skinned man. He smiled at Clint and Wanda before nodding to Dr. Helen Cho. "Doctor."
"Captain." She replied, smiling lightly. "How are you?"
He sat back in his chair, thinking through his potential answers and decided it would be best to be honest. "Been better. My hands are fine – pretty sure the burns are gone now. But Nat's not."
Helen nodded slowly. "I spoke with her doctor and offered the regeneration cradle as a possible graft replacement once the eschar is removed."
Eschar…that's burnt tissue, right?
"Thank you," Steve said with a smile. "I'm sure that the faster she gets out of here, the happier she'll be." He had learned the hard way just how much she hated hospitals.
"Is she awake?" Clint chimed in.
The soldier shook his head. "Unfortunately, there has been no change."
Clint nodded, not looking very happy about that. But then again, the woman had been struck from behind by a beam of wood…
The conversation drifted to different topics. Wanda and Sam talking about what they'd been up to recently, Helen adding in her own bits and Clint getting everyone caught up on the lives of his kids.
Steve found himself listening in silence. Sure he added a few things here and there, laughing and groaning at the appropriate times. But his mind wasn't in this conversation.
It was wherever Natalia was.
And he strongly doubted that would change anytime soon.
An hour or so passed before Brian returned to let them know that Nat had returned from her test, and also informed them that the doctor had given them all permission to visit with her if they so wished, as long as they were calm and courteous of the other patients and families in the unit.
After thanking Brian, everyone but Helen headed to go see their injured friend.
Helen had gotten a call not long before Brian returned, and the call had been so urgent that she had been required to leave immediately. She said her goodbyes and assurances that she would be back as soon as she could before leaving.
So, Steve, Sam, Wanda and Clint continued their conversation in Natalia's room, the Super Soldier resuming his position in the chair immediately to her right unchallenged.
"Hey, Cap." Sam cut in at one point, causing the blonde man to look up. The darker skinned man was pointing at an IV line. "Is this your blood?"
Steve frowned. When had she needed more blood? Was her platelet count still dropping? He wracked his brain looking for an answer, but came up with none.
"It's dated donated today, and it's O Neg."
Steve shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Someone else could have donated blood today."
The other man also shrugged, not convinced, but there wasn't really a way to truly knowing. It wasn't like after a donation was made that Steve had a right to know who received his blood.
But…considering that Super Soldier Serum did run in his veins…
He shook that thought away, though there was a warmth that spread in his chest at the idea of his blood running in Natalia's veins. And deep down, he hoped that it was his blood. Because maybe, just maybe, his serum would help her heal.
One Week Later: November 1st.
Steve checked the time on his phone once more, just to be sure that he had the right time…for the 10th time…and straightened his jacket (for the 12th).
If Natalia could see him now, she would have slapped him and told him to relax.
Stop fidgeting and just go in!
Straightening his shoulders and nodding to the voice who spurred him on, he reached out and opened the door.
One of the things he had been thankful for about this hospital was that it had a chapel, and not just any chapel, a Catholic Chapel, with a Catholic priest as Chaplin. And the cherry on top was that they had Mass daily.
He had stumbled upon this hidden gem while wandering the halls of the hospital one afternoon when Natalia had gone for an unusually long eschar procedure a two days after her arrival, and found himself spending nearly as much time in the chapel as he was with her.
The old habits that his mother had drilled into him as a child had never gone away, but he hadn't been entirely faithful to the practices that she had handed down to him since leaving the ice. Though he did his best to attend Mass on Sundays and confession when it was offered. But "little things," like his Rosary, the one his mother made for him and the one that had been in breast pocket when he crashed the Valkerye, simply remained in his pocket kind of like spare change, rather than a spiritual tool to be used.
At least until he found himself in this very chapel five days prior.
And with Natalia's condition being what it was – stagnant between true healing and decay, a limbo of sorts – he fled back to the old practices, falling back into the old rhythm with ease. The Latin words of each prayer rolling off his tongue in the silence as if they had never stopped. As if he hadn't stopped saying them for over 80 years. Praying, begging, that Natalia be brought back to them, to him.
Genuflecting to the tabernacle (1), Steve slid into his usual pew and knelt on the floor. There were kneelers, but he didn't want to break them. Closing his eyes, he began to pray the prayers before Mass silently.
Until a hand rested on his shoulder.
He turned to look, a smile pulling at his lips as his eyes met the kindly grey eyes of Father Patterson, the Chaplin. Steve had met him the day he found this hidden chapel and since then had had many conversations with the faithful priest.
He had found out that the godly man had been a Navy Chaplin for years prior to settling down here in this remote hospital's chapel. He listened to and consoled the soldier-turned-rancher's anxieties and self-imposed crosses better than any psychologist Steve had been sent to see since the Battle of New York.
"Good morning, Steven." The (physically) older man greeted kindly.
"Good morning, Father."
"I don't mean to disturb you from your prayers, but I could use your assistance in the Sacristy."(2)
Steve blinked and almost jumped to his feet. "I'd be happy to help."
Father Patterson smiled his gratitude. "It appears that Ms. Thompson, who usually is my Sacristan, is unable to make it today. There are some duties that she performs that I cannot do while also celebrating the Mass. I'll gladly give you a rundown of what you'll need to do."
Steve nodded, happy to be helpful. "Of course. Lead the way."
Father Patterson had been right. There were several duties he couldn't do while at the altar that required a sacristan.
Like counting how many were in attendance for Holy Communion (the chapel was almost overflowing and Steve had been happy to give up his seat for an elderly woman who had arrived a bit latter than the others), finding someone to take up the gifts at the proper time (Steve had asked two habited Sisters if they wouldn't mind bringing up the gifts, both of whom agreed), and preparing said gifts.
The unfortunate thing about preparing the gifts was that he would miss a good chunk of the homily…
But he was able to catch the tail end, which made missing most of it worth it to an extent, as Father Patterson had a habit of summarizing what he had been talking about.
"…Brothers and Sisters, the journey to Heaven is not an easy one, as I'm sure many of you know. The Saints that we celebrate this All Saints Day didn't just walk into the Pearly Gates without the Cross. No, they all suffered. Some at the hands of their friends and family, some at the hands of their enemies, and some at the hands of demons. But they all kept their eyes on the Crucifix, on the Corpus that hung on the wood and allowed themselves to be crucified with Him, knowing that after every Good Friday is an Easter Sunday.
"I encourage you all to meditate on what Heaven truly is – a place where everyone rejoices over the salvation of one soul and loves them in a way that no one can truly describe in words – but also to meditate on what Hell is. I don't think we do this enough. Hell is not just a curse that one should throw around willy-nilly like a ribbon. Many great saints who had visions of Hell described it as a place where all that exists is hatred, for oneself, for God, for your fellow man regardless of if they tried to save you or damn you, and where everyone there hates you with the same ferocity. May your meditations lead you to conversion of heart and a firm desire to never sin again. Amen."
Steve pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and quickly jotted down a few things to ponder later that evening when he had some quiet time from Father Patterson's homily, smiling as he returned it to his pocket. It had been a long time since he had heard a homily about Heaven and Hell…it was refreshing to hear those doctrinal truths once more.
The Avengers seemed to have figured out a pattern as the week went by, figuring that it wasn't a good idea to leave Steve and Natalia alone at the hospital. Particularly since they were all worried about Natalia and wanted to be with her when she finally woke up.
So, Sam was usually there in the morning, keeping Nat company while Steve was at Mass. Wanda would follow shortly after, bringing breakfast for the little group.
Thor would join them later in the afternoon, trading out with Sam, who would go back to watch Nathaniel.
In the evening, Thor and Wanda would leave as Clint and Laura would visit. These visits were the most comfortable for Steve, as he didn't have to hide how deep his anxieties ran and his affection for Natalia. And he was able to call her by her real name.
All of the other Avengers called Natalia "Natasha", and after calling her by her birth name for so long, Steve just couldn't adjust back to that. So he settled for calling her Nat around the others, and was thankful when he got a few hours with the Bartons where he could call her Natalia.
However, those visits didn't last very long, as they would only come in, update Steve and Nat on what was going on with the three horses and the three children, and then have to leave for the night so they could sleep and start the whole day over again in the morning. And Steve understood this, their kids came first, so he treasured the moments that he could spend saying Natalia's name and being more of the self that he had become so used to being over these past two years.
But once they left, the Super Soldier always felt dreadfully alone, with no other visitors and a silent Natalia…the quiet was almost suffocating.
Until one night when someone else decided to join him in his silent vigil.
Steve had been in the middle of praying his rosary, eyes closed, head lolled back against the back of the chair, fingers moving the beads in his hands as he prayed silently for the woman beside him, when the click of the door opening rattled through the quiet.
Jumping to his feet, he turned to face the newcomer, noting that the nurse wasn't due back for another round for another thirty minutes, the Doctor wouldn't be stopping by until after that, and housekeeping had come and gone long before the Bartons came to visit. None of the personal should have been alerted to anything from this room, as none of Natalia's monitors were showing anything out of the ordinary…
So…
As he faced the newcomer, he relaxed.
It wasn't an intruder.
"Sorry," Bruce Banner said softly, noting the Super Soldier's defensive positioning in front of Natalia. "I thought you were asleep."
Steve chuckled, relaxing his defensive posture with a smile, and gestured for the other man to enter. "No worries, Bruce. Come in."
The man's steps were cautious, though about what, Steve couldn't say. Bruce sat down opposite Steve, on Natalia's left side, while Steve resumed his position on her right.
There was a long silence, and Steve pulled back out his rosary, intent on finishing the last two decades if Bruce didn't have anything immediate to say. Closing his eyes, he picked up with the third mystery of the Sorrowful Mysteries.
The Super Soldier was so focused on beads in his fingers and the prayers that accompanied them, that he didn't notice Bruce's shifting in his chair or the eyes that were focused on him. By the end of the fifth decade, though, the eyes focused on him were so intense that Steve could feel them as if they were lasers burrowing into his skin. Calmly, he finished his prayers, crossed himself, and put his rosary away before opening his eyes and turning to face Bruce.
Bruce was studying him, his brown eyes searching Steve's face. He lifted a questioning eyebrow before speaking. "I didn't know you were Catholic."
And the rancher couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah. I was raised in it and fell away from it after my time in the ice." He frowned slightly. "I did my best to go to Mass every week and attend confession…but besides that, I wasn't really practicing."
The brunette continued to study Steve, but the rancher couldn't read just what was going on in the man's head.
"What changed?" Bruce finally asked.
Steve gave a short, almost painful laugh. Father Patterson had asked that same question a week prior and he was wondering for just how long that question would haunt him. "A lot of things: Ultron, the Accords, the hiding, running, lying, Thanos…" He trailed off. "I guess, one day I just woke up and realized that I couldn't do everything by myself anymore."
Bruce gave him an odd look, but nodded, understanding a bit of what he meant. "Does it help? Having faith?"
Steve turned completely in his chair so he could face the man, and the woman who lay between them, fully. "Yes," He replied, his blue eyes full of conviction. "Believing in something bigger than myself, and knowing that He's in control, not me, puts my mind at ease. The world isn't on my shoulders, it's in His hands, and that is an enormous comfort."
The scientist lifted an eyebrow at that.
"I worried and fretted over the world for so long," Steve continued, not really sure why, but thinking that maybe this is what the other man needed to hear. "That I forgot to trust. With everything that went wrong, every failed mission, every injured teammate, I fell further and further into an increasingly darker place. Eventually, it became suffocating. Being on the run didn't help…and one day I found myself in Paris…and at the steps of the Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris. And thought, why not." He tilted his head a bit. "Have you ever been to that Cathedral?"
Bruce shook his head.
"It's beautiful, and enormous. I felt so…small and normal for a change. And frighteningly insignificant." He looked down at his hands. "I found myself walking down the aisle. There wasn't a Mass going on, but there were still people praying in the pews. The last time I had been in a church had been Peggy's funeral." He swallowed thickly for a moment. "I looked up, and there's the high altar. The altar itself is rectangular and long, but behind it is this huge gold plated tabernacle with a carving of Jesus' burial in the tomb…and just above it, is this life sized statue of Jesus and his mother. His dead body is limp in her lap as she looks up to heaven with these eyes that are so mournful…and all I saw was myself."
The memory flooded his vision and he was no longer in the hospital room, no longer talking to Bruce, no longer sitting next to Natalia. Rather, he was kneeling at that altar, crying out to God because he failed and just couldn't keep doing this anymore.
I didn't want you to be alone…
After a few moments, he found himself blinking back to the here and now, and found that Bruce was still staring at him.
Feeling warm tears track down his cheeks, he rubbed his eyes, somewhat embarrassed about his show of weakness. "And after that, I just…fell back into old habits. It was as if I'd never left my faith."
Neither man spoke for a long moment, Steve collecting himself and Bruce studying the man before him. The silence was almost deafening, save for the beeps of the machines hooked up to Natalia's sleeping form.
"Have you found peace, Bruce?" Steve asked, suddenly, startling the other man from his thoughts.
Bruce smiled, but there was an edge to it, a self-loathing edge. "I don't deserve peace."
Steve lifted an eyebrow. "Peace isn't something you deserve or earn. It's something you find."
The other man pursed his lips. "Then no, I haven't found it. And I highly doubt I ever will."
This made the super soldier frown. "Why don't you want to be happy?"
Bruce growled at that. "So this is about happiness, now?" He snapped. "Because every time I find a place where I think I might be happy, where I could be happy, something happens. Someone steps in and irritates the Other Guy, or blows something up, or tries to recruit me for some massive 'never gonna work' project and I can't go back!"
By the end of his speech, Bruce was on his feet, hands gripping hard on the bed rails of Natalia's hospital bed, and glowering at Steve with an expression that the Super Soldier deciphers as a mix of the self-loathing from before, a desire to run, and a desire to break something.
Steve stared right back at the man with a look as calm as water cutting across a stone, though his heart is thumping hard in his chest and ears. Nat's in danger. Calm him down.
"What did he take from you, Bruce?" He asked, his voice as calm as his expression.
"Everything," Bruce replied in a hushed tone, leaning back on his heels, head drooping as if a huge weight had fallen from the sky solely on his back. "The life I had, the safety I once felt, my mortality, the one I—" He cut himself off, sinking back into his chair, a pained expression taking over his features.
And Steve knew that look. He had seen it so many times on the faces of soldiers who had gotten "Dear John" letters and recalled it on his own features after he awoke from the ice.
"The one you love." It wasn't a question.
Bruce's pained eyes met Steve's calm ones, somewhat surprised. "How…?"
"The ice took that from me, too." He replied, simply, but not patronizingly. "Is she still alive?"
The scientist blinked. "Y-yes…but I don't thin—"
"How long has it been since you've seen her?"
Another blink. "Years."
Steve nodded, pursing his lips. "Have you called her? You clearly love her very much."
Bruce just stared openly at Steve, as if he didn't really comprehend what the other man was saying.
And, honestly, Steve wasn't sure what exactly he was doing, either. The last time Steve had seen Bruce Banner, the scientist had been pining for Nat, and Bruce's answer of "years" since he had seen this woman he was in love with was just vague enough that he could be referring to Natalia.
And that hurt.
But they were all grownups. If Natalia wanted to go with Bruce, Steve wouldn't stop her.
He hadn't before, and he wouldn't now.
"And I don't think," Steve continued, resting his chin on his fist. "That I need to tell you again about how waiting too long isn't worth it."
Bruce blinked again, opening his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a groan coming from between the two men.
"Are you always this dramatic, Steve?" A voice croaked.
The man in question was on his feet before she finished, his blue eyes wide and focused on Natalia's face, his hands coming up of their own fruition to rest on her cheeks as her green eyes fluttered open to look at him, sparkling with the mischief that seldom left her. "Only," He replied, his voice breathy with a faint laugh-sob. "When I'm passionate about something."
The anxiety that had built up in his stomach over the past two weeks finally untangled. She's awake! She's awake!
"Then that must be all the damn time." She bantered back, her eyes sparkling for a moment before her face crumpled in pain. "Why does everything hurt?"
Again, the super soldier was in motion, his right hand sliding off her face to reach beside him and slap the nurse call light. One of her hands reached up quickly and gripped his left hand hard before he could move it, hissing in pain as she did so.
"Don't go!" She whispered, pain and anxiety filling those once playful green eyes. "Don't leave me."
"Я не пойду, Наталья." (3) He whispered back in broken Russian before switching back to English, his thumb brushing across her cheek gently. "I'm here. I'm with you."
The tempest building in her eyes calmed under his steady gaze and his gentle touch.
Forgetting that they might have an audience, Steve leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead like he always had when she suffered from a nightmare.
But the nightmare was over. She was awake. She was finally awake.
The moment was short-lived as a nurse came in and walked with hurried steps towards Natalia, forcing Steve to move out of her way, his hand dropping from her face regretfully. But he never left her field of vision, a silent sentry watching over her.
When he did finally remember that Bruce had been in the room prior to her waking, he looked over at the other side of the room to find only an empty chair.
A/N:
(1) Tabernacle: a safe, usually plated in gold/precious metal/gems that stores the consecrated Body of Christ
(2) Sacristy: a room just off of the altar where the priest is and vessels are prepared prior to and after the Mass.
(3) "I will not go, Natalia."
Note: Russian is not a language that Steve is familiar with, but after living with Natalia for two years on the Ranch, I'm assuming that he may have picked up a few words, even if he is not good at it.
I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if you like.
Until the next chapter (which will occur several weeks in the story's timeline from this one)!
~Rachel
