Dealing With It

8:35 PM

Zemo stepped in in front of Steve and pressed the hot muzzle against his forehead. "Be certain to say hello to my father for me," he requested as he pulled the trigger, "in Hell."

Steve checked. While he wasn't the first person with two obituaries, he was part of a small fraternity. Eventually, he'd be the first with three.

It wasn't something he was looking forward to. No one looked forward to death. Anyone who did wasn't looking at their life in the proper focus. They were busy looking at the bad instead of the good. Certain situations notwithstanding, no one should live their lives with the only expectation they had was death.

It was a lesson Steve learned quickly after the Battle of Manhattan. He got low. He was the only one left from his time - that wasn't physically in their nineties, anyway - and he was lonely. He didn't know how else to cope. Thor and, surprisingly at the time, Tony put a stop to that line of thinking. They showed him that just because he lost one family, it didn't mean that he couldn't find another one.

The Avengers were his new family. His quirky, insane, dysfunctional family. Sometimes they got on his nerves, but he wouldn't replace them with anyone.

"So, me and Pep were talking and we're throwing a dinner party on Friday."

Steve looked up from his tablet, which he had spent the last hours reading to catch up on what he had missed over the last sixteen months. Most of it wasn't good. Hydra had been on a secret rampage. "Party, Tony? We still have business to take care of." He flipped the tablet around so he could see the screen. It was a map of Eastern Europe with ten red dots in various places.

Tony waved him off dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. It's called multitasking, Capsicle. We take down Hydra once and for all Tuesday through Thursday, then party Friday to celebrate it."

Tony made it sound so easy. The fact that they were still talking about taking down Hydra for good after seven decades proved that it couldn't be done. If it couldn't, it would have been over when the Red Skull died.

He gave his life once knowing that the threat of Hydra was over. He gave it again hoping it would be stopped. Twice, he was reborn into a world where that wretched snake den still walked this planet. They were an immortal thorn in his side that no matter how many times he pulled it out, it kept coming back.

He didn't think they were ever going away. "It won't be that easy."

"Cut off one year, two more shall rise to take its place. Hail Hydra!"

Words that would haunt him for the rest of his life, how ever long that ended up being. He stood from the sofa and headed for the elevator. "Let me know when you have a plan."

"Steve," Tony called after him. Steve stopped just short of the elevator and turned enough to give him his attention. "We got them right where we want them. They're on the ropes, right?"

He breathed out a chuckle. "I've heard that before. Twice. Wrong both times."

"That was then, when they were at full power. This is now. They got their asses kicked yesterday, Cap. They're scrambling, on the retreat. We know where they are. We strike, strike hard and take 'em out before they can recover," Tony reasoned.

"He's right, Steve," Natasha intoned. "We may not be able to stop them for good, but we can keep them down for another seven decades with a decisive strike."

Steve's eyes flicked from Tony to Natasha. They both made sense, but he was still wary. He knew Hydra. He knew that it didn't take them much to regain power. They had been living within SHIELD for seventy years, for God's sake.

"Steven." Thor stepped toward the balcony and looked out into the nighttime sky. "I know not what machinations Hydra had in the shadows the months we were gone. But, I do know what you are feeling." A stiff breeze swept throw when he opened the balcony door. The ambient sounds of the streets below filtered in. "The Jotun, the race of frost giants from which Loki hails, have long been a thorn in my side. Long had Asgard waged war against them. Every time we gained a decisive victory that seemed to end the war, back they came, as strong or stronger than before. Even after Loki killed much of their population with the Bifrost, they still live, and are regrowing their numbers."

He turned to look at Tony. "My point is, Tony, Hydra is like the Jotun. No matter how many times we deal them defeat, they return, sooner or later, with numbers matching or exceeding those of previous. An enemy who is at their weakest is at their most desperate, for their very survival is at stake. Once survival is on the line, that enemy is at their most dangerous. This, I have learned from experience."

Steve nodded. Someone who got it, much to his relief. "Thank you, Thor."

"You are welcome, Captain. I am all for attacking Hydra while they are weak, but do not mistake them for being at Hela's doorstep. They will regain strength and become a thorn in our side sooner or later."

"Sooner with mum still out there," Jessica mumbled. No one but Steve heard her.

"Let me know when you have a plan, Tony. Jess, can I talk to you?" He stepped into the elevator, and waited until she boarded with him. "Everything alright?"

She half-smiled. "Hm? Oh, sure. Everything's just fantastic." She crossed her arms and looked away.

"You can't be fine," he argued. "Not after –"

"Steve," she started, exasperated.

"Jess, please. I know what's wrong with you. It helps if you talk about."

She hesitated for a long moment. "Fine." She then sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "I… I thought when Fury and Coulson brought me in and gave me a second chance, I was going straight. I had so much to make up for. I… died thinking I was fighting Hydra." Her lips quivered. "Now I found out I never left." Tears fell down her cheeks.

Steve moved over and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. "Hey, it's okay."

"No, it's not!" she screamed into his chest. "Do you understand what I did for SHIELD?" He couldn't answer. "I infiltrated high level terrorist organizations and stole highly sensitive intel for SHIELD. I thought… I-I thought I was doing something good. I thought I was helping take down bad people. Buh-but, I was giving it all to Hydra! I was helping them get stronger every day!" She sobbed bitterly into his shirt.

He frowned sadly and rubbed her back to console her. "Listen to me. I don't know what Hydra and Viper did to you. But, I do know what I see when I look at you." He released her and lifted her chin so she would look at him. "I see a good woman, a better hero, and one of my best friends. The work we did for SHIELD may have benefited Hydra, I don't know. But, I do know that you've done so much to atone for what they made you, for Nick and for us. And that's good enough for us."

A wry half smile quirked up her lips briefly. "You mean that?"

He smiled back. "Of course. I have no reason to lie to you. And even if I did, I wouldn't anyway."

She wiped the tears from her eyes and patted him on the chest. "You're a bloody good mate, you know that. Cheers, Steve."

"You're welcome, Peggy," he said with a widened smile.

The elevator slowed to a stop and he walked out. "Really, Steve?" she sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

The doors closed, his last view of her being her shaking her head. He shrugged and walked down the hall. Clint was standing in the hallway, arms folded with one hand holding his chin. He was staring pensively at the door in front of him. "Clint?"

Clint looked up abruptly. "Oh, uh, hey. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just making the rounds to check on everyone." He walked toward him and didn't stop until he was standing next to him. "Everything alright?"

"Just fine," he answered. Too quickly.

Steve looked at the door. Clint's hero logo, a stylized purple H, was on the door behind him. Meaning that the door in front of them could only be one of two people's. Given how Clint was hesitating in the hall, as opposed to being actually inside the penthouse narrowed it down even more. "She'll want to see you when she wakes up."

"I don't want to talk about this, Steve," he grunted.

"That's fair," he relented. "But, you'll have to talk to her eventually. Avoiding her may hurt her more than losing you did, I'd bet."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed heavily. "What exactly do I say? She made her lack of desire to see me ever again pretty clear."

"That was, what, five years ago?" Clint nodded slowly. "Time heals all wounds and absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. I don't know Dr. Morse as well as you do, obviously, but I want to think that she'll be willing to hear what you have to say."

He sighed again. "She was on the helicarrier, back when we were just starting against the Masters. In the lab."

"Yeah, Nick told me she was working on figuring out why those insects had grown to giant size."

He nodded. "When you made us take a few days off, I wondered in there one day and… I saw her." He paused and looked intently at the door. "And she saw me. It was the first time since the divorce and… we just looked at each other. We didn't say a word, just… looked at each other." A small, fond smile cracked through his otherwise stony expression. "I hadn't ever seen her in a lab setting. She was so beautiful in her lab coat and goggles. I… I miss her so much."

"Then go in there," he urged.

"I can't. I just can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I told her I love her."

Steve looked bemused. "What? When?"

"Right before Zemo shot me." A humorless chuckle rippled through him. "Crazy. Right after he shot you, I noticed some kid recording it on his phone. So, I looked right at it and said I still loved her."

Steve felt a smile tugging at his lips. "That's great. I'm sure she feels the same."

"You don't get it. You just don't tell someone… an ex that you still love them right before you die. Especially not when your relationship ended as badly as ours did."

Steve frowned. Clint's situation was completely foreign to him. That lack of heartache was good - especially considering how he already had enough heartache in his life - but he could only empathize with him. "I still think you two should talk."

Clint looked up at him, eyes cloudy with emotions. "Is that an order?"

"No. I don't want to make that decision for you." He patted him on the shoulder and turned to return to the elevator. "Oh, Tony and Pepper are throwing a party on Friday. Just FYI if you wanted to find a date."

Clint looked at him, then snorted. "Clever bastard."

Steve just smirked and headed up for Wanda's penthouse. He hasn't seen her since they got back from defeating Ultron, and he knew why.

He stepped out of the elevator and knocked on her door. There was a red W on it, and a white lightning bolt on the one across the hall. A commotion started on the other side of the door, followed by footsteps rapidly approaching.

"Pietro?!" she said excitedly. The utter disappointment on her face when she saw that it was only Steve was heartbreaking. "Oh. It's you."

His lips pressed into a thin line before he responded. "Just making rounds to check on everyone. How are you?"

"Fine," she answered tersely. She looked up at him, expectant of something he couldn't place.

"Well, I…" He trailed off abruptly. "We'll find him, Wanda."

She scoffed, as if receiving what she had been expecting. "Don't just say you'll find him. Do it!" The door slammed in his face without another word. He didn't flinch, but it wasn't a good feeling.

How did that go so wrong so quickly? He knew that Pietro was going to be a touchy subject for her until he was back and back to his old self – or as close as he could get. He didn't realize how touchy until right then.

Unlike with Clint, he knew exactly how she was feeling. Months after he freed Bucky from the Red Room, he searched for him. Every lead was exhausted, every thread pulled until there were none left. When he finally found him, it was like all was right in the world. Even though the Bucky of today wasn't the same as the Bucky from yesterday, he felt complete with him around.

He wanted Wanda to feel the same way. She was incomplete without Pietro. He just realized that this was probably the longest she had gone without him around. After spending over a decade with him by her side constantly, through thick and thin, this must have been hell.

"Jarvis, run a search for Pietro, if you can. I want him found as soon as possible," he said as soon as the elevator doors closed.

"I am running it as I speak, Captain. Mr. Maximoff was located in Romania, but has recently moved. I have been unable to locate him."

Tony must have ordered that search. How long ago was this?

"Two hours ago."

"I see. Keep me posted, Jarvis."

"Of course. Shall I send you to check on Captain Danvers?"

Just hearing her name sent his heart into aflutter. "Sure." His mind was racing over what he was going to say when he saw her. He didn't want to make an ass out of himself, especially when he wanted to ask her to be his date to Tony's party.

The car slowed to a stop and the doors opened. Immediately, he noticed that something was wrong.

The lights were all off in the hallway. With the exception of the illuminated exit signs pointed to the staircase, it was completely dark. Event the windows were darkened. "Carol?" He heard a sniffle and a soft curse from the other side of the hall. "Carol?"

"Go… go away." Her words were slurred and sloppy sounding. He cursed under his breath and walked slowly toward her voice.

"Lights, Jarvis." The lights turned on halfway. Steve saw Carol slumped over in the corner, an empty bottle of Captain Morgan by her feet and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's in her hand. Her eyes were droopy and unfocused, her breathing heavy and labored.

"I should be dead," she murmured.

"What?"

"I SHOULD BE DEAD!" she shrieked. The empty bottle sailed past his head and smashed into the wall behind him. "But I'm not. Why?"

It wasn't a question he considered. How, he spent hours thinking about. Why? He never questioned why. He just went with it. "I don't know."

"'m jus' a fuckin' pilot. I'm no superhero." She stood wobbily to her feet and staggered toward him. "I got shot. That should'a been th' end o' me." The half empty bottle of amber liquor dangled haphazardly from her trembling fingers.

He watched her dodder toward him. He groped for some answer, but couldn't find one. She eventually collapsed into his chest, shoulders shaking with dry heaves. "Carol, I –"

"Jus'… Jus' tell me." She looked up at him. Her usually sharp blue eyes were glassy and unfocused, and glistening with burgeoning tears. They started to roll down her cheeks. "Why am I still here?"

He had seen reactions to their resurrection range from elated to anger, from acceptance to disbelief, and everywhere in between. But the complete mental breakdown from someone already wholly out of their element wasn't something he expected. Because Carol was the normal one out of all of them. She was the civilian thrust into a war between two Gifted sides. She was the one who had the most to lose, and lost everything.

Now, she was back. How does someone who had no experience with this sort of them, the very real life or death situations the Avengers found themselves in almost everyday? Get drunk? Start cutting themselves? He felt her wrists and felt no wounds, old or otherwise.

How?

He said nothing because he didn't know the answer. To any of it. He just held her close and let her soak his t-shirt with her tears. That was the least he could do.

They, the Avengers, had some experience with the preternatural. Some of them were preternatural. But the woman in his arms, she was a civilian. Seeing her completely lose it after something so miraculous happened, it opened up the raw, real reality of what had happened.

They had died. They were alive again. And he had no idea how to deal with that.