Okay, here's Part 11, which may be the last part for a few weeks, and I think will be one of the last parts to the story, so I'm hoping that when I come back, there will be lots and lots of reviews for me to read! Haha. But seriously. As always, I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!


Part 11

Rebekah leans against the doorpost and watches as Steve works over his third punching bag for the day. She can tell how many he's been through today by the remains of the other two bags on the ground. She takes a deep breath before clearing her throat and taking a few steps forward. Steve looks up and grins as he moves over to give her a kiss. "Hey. How are you doing?" He grabs her hand and pulls her back towards the boxing ring in the center of the room.

She shrugs up at him. "I'm fine. How are you?"

He stops, his grip on her hand stopping her short and pulling her around to face him. "Becky. You don't have to do that. What's going on with you? You've been quieter than usual. Withdrawn. Sometimes I feel like you'd rather be somewhere else when we're together. Ever since last month."

He's right. She's been in a funk ever since the attack on New York, and she can't exactly figure out why, other than the fact that the death of the little boy had dredged up a surfeit of painful memories. Every time she's around him, she's acutely aware of the history that she shares with Clint and the full disclosure that she doesn't share with Steve. It's caused so much anxiety on her part that she can barely enjoy spending time with Steve lately. That's why she came today. He shouldn't have to deal with her past issues, however inadvertently she subjects him to them. She needs time on her own to figure out what the hell she's doing with her life, because right now, she's floundering and she can't figure out how to start swimming again. She can't ask him to wait around for her to decide whether or not she can even be in a relationship now—or ever. Especially not without his knowing the truth. She hasn't been honest with him, and she can't continue to be so unfair to him. He's far too good to deserve that.

She smiles softly. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little preoccupied. But this is where I need to be right now." He leans down to kiss her, and she allows him to slip his arms around her before the panic sets in again and she pushes him away. He looks hurt, and she pushes her hair out of her face before pulling him over to a nearby bench and sitting down on it. He sits beside her and watches her carefully as she begins to speak.

"I met Clint seven years ago. I was twenty-one. I was finishing up my first year of grad school. Eight months later, we moved in together. Three months later… I got pregnant." She pauses, struggling with the decision to tell him about the marriage. It had been a huge secret even when it had first happened; five years after the fact, she didn't know if it still was—although that wasn't really the issue. The issue was whether she could muster up the courage to tell him about it now. "It was a boy. He would have been almost six by now. I… miscarried in the sixth month. The baby… he was malnourished because I suffered from exaggerated morning sickness—they call it Hyperemesis Gravidarum—that kept me vomiting all the way through mid-afternoon pretty much the entire time I was pregnant. The doctors let us see him, after we lost him. He was already… so perfect. They wanted us to give him a name—they do that after a miscarriage to facilitate bonding between the baby and the parents—so we called him James Harold Barton, after our fathers." She trails off, and Steve waits silently for her to continue, which eventually she does. "Anyways, after we lost him, it wasn't the same between us. We couldn't talk to each other. He started working more and longer. One day, he went to work and he just… didn't come back. I didn't see him again until I was invited to join Jane and Dr. Banner at SHIELD."

Steve sits, unmoving, stunned. "And… do you still… have feelings for him?" he finally chokes out after minutes have passed.

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I mean, I definitely missed him after he left. Being around him again… it brings up a lot of old feelings—good and bad. And being around you… it makes it harder to figure out exactly what I'm feeling. After last month, with the little boy… It drudged up a lot of bad memories, too. And then I started to panic about us because I hadn't told you everything, and then I started to panic more because I didn't know how you would react... I'm sorry I didn't tell you all this sooner, Steve. I was just afraid you wouldn't want me after you heard about… my past. And it took me far too long to realize how very much I don't deserve you. I hid so much from you, and… I'm sorry." She swipes at her eyes and stands quickly. "I have to go. I'm sorry, Steve. You're a wonderful guy; I wish I could have deserved you."

She turns to leave but is stopped in her tracks by Steve's voice. "Wait. Don't go." He stands and crosses the room in a few long strides and takes hold of her shoulders. "Everyone has a past. Yours is a little more… turbulent than some. It would have been wrong of me to expect you to tell me everything when we've only known each other for six months. You're so brave for being willing to tell me all of this. It doesn't matter what your past is, Becky. I love you for who you are now."

Rebekah gapes at him for a moment before she allows him to pull her into his arms for a brief moment before the panic forces her to push away again. "But I… No. There's one more thing, Steve. After we found out I was pregnant, Clint and I… we got married." She covers her face with her hands. "Everything else I told you… that's what I was the most afraid of letting you know."

She takes a few deep breaths before she hears Steve ask, "You're… divorced?"

Her breaths become shorter and more gasping as she struggles to answer. "There are some things I still need to sort out with Clint before I tell you any more. I have to go. I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry. I should never have let it get this far without being honest with you." She turns on her heel and marches out of the room resolutely. As she passes through the door, she turns just in time to see Steve send his current punching bag flying across the room. She flinches and turns back around just as she runs smack into—Clint, of course. The only person who could possibly make her day worse.

"Hey, Becks. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check on the Captain—"

She cuts him off. "How much did you hear?"

After a long pause, he lowers his gaze. "I heard plenty. What things do you have to sort out with me, Becks?"

She bites her lip. "Can we not talk about it here?" When he nods, she heads out the door, Clint close behind. "Gino's. I'll meet you there." Before he can respond, she's flagged down a taxi and climbed into the backseat. She gives the driver the address and as the car pulls away from the curb, she leans against the window and closes her eyes.