There were three of them, two lurking across the street and one loitering near the stoop using his phone. Steve was sure there had been a whole lot more reporters after the article on Becca had first come out, but several days had passed since then. However, Steve wouldn't have cared if he had to get past three reporters or three hundred as long as he could Becca again. Hopefully she was home. He had considering calling but decided to surprise her.

As he got close to her apartment building, the reporters perked up. Cameras flashed amidst the click of shutters and calls of "Captain," which turned the heads of other people on the street. Steve smiled politely and edged around the reporter blocking half of the stairs. He pressed the buzzer, waiting during the rapid fire questions which pertained to Becca and therefore went ignored.

Becca's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding resigned. "Yes?"

Unable to resist, Steve adopted the friendly, yet forceful manner of a reporter. "Hello. I'm looking for Becca Stroud. There's someone here who'd sure like to see her."

The front door unlocked with a hum. One of the reporters stuck his head through the door in a last ditch attempt to ask questions, but fortunately he couldn't actually come in. Steve ascended the stairs and knocked on the door to Becca's apartment. In response came a muffled shout he thought was "Be right there!" so he waited, unmoving except to glance once along the hallway.

A minute later, the door flew open. Steve barely got a look at Becca before she threw her arms around him. Grinning, he kissed the top of her head and returned the hug. He'd missed holding her.

"I thought your flight got delayed until tomorrow," Becca said.

"It did." The plane Steve was supposed to take had been detained on a mission, but turned up unexpectedly during the night. "But I told S.H.I.E.L.D. that I promised my best girl I'd be back in two weeks, so I was going with or without their plane."

Becca tilted her head to peer up at him and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm." The lighting in the hallway wasn't the best, but Steve thought her eyes looked glassy. "Luckily I was able to cut through most of the traffic by running straight here. Although I have to tell you, some of the potholes on 95 were not so good on my knees."

"Shut your sassy mouth, and get in here so I can kiss you."

Becca grabbed the front of his jacket, and Steve allowed himself to be yanked into her apartment where she eagerly hopped onto her toes as the door clicked shut behind them. Steve tried to enjoy the kiss but all he could think about were her eyes. Was she tired, sick? Had she been crying? Did she not take enough of her medication? Maybe she was in pain.

Increasingly alarming possibilities chased themselves through Steve's mind until he had to break the kiss to get a better look. Traces of bruising showed faintly beneath her eyes, barely visible through concealing makeup.

"See something you like?" Becca teased, dipping a shoulder in a provocative pose and fluttering her eyelashes.

There could be a lot of reasons for Becca to be tired. The press outside her apartment was one of them. Not that he wanted to make an unflattering comment about her appearance, but Steve felt he had to say something.

"Definitely, but her eyes are looking a little glassy."

"Oh, that." Becca flicked her wrist nonchalantly. "I've been staying up late for work. There was a deadline I missed and – Well, it doesn't matter."

Steve frowned. "That Friday deadline?"

Irritation slipped across Becca's face. "Yeah. Can we not talk about work? It's kinda the last thing I want to be thinking about."

"Sure. Sorry," Steve apologized, although he wondered what had made her miss the deadline when he could recall her saying that she had plenty of time to finish the advertisement. For now, Steve dismissed his concerns. Barely five minutes into seeing Becca for the first time in weeks, and he was already ruining the moment over what was likely nothing.

Becca smiled, her expression softening. "That's okay."

When she kissed him, this time Steve focused on nothing but the soft press of her lips and the familiar warmth of her body.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching into a pocket.

"A present? You didn't have to do that," Becca protested, but she looked excited all the same.

"Well, it's not much." Steve handed her a sheet of paper folded into neat quarters and hung up his jacket while she unfolded the sketch.

While training had kept him plenty busy, there was some downtime Steve had to himself. On a wide lawn near the Washington Monument, which offered a surprising amount of anonymity despite or because of the amount of people, he'd thought of Becca. After contemplating a clean page in his notebook, he'd begun to draw.

"Turtles!" Becca squealed delightedly, which was the reaction Steve had been going for. "Wait, is this us as turtles?" She lifted the paper closer, a cartoon sketch of one turtle with a star on its shell and another wearing a pageant queen sash. "It totally is. This gets a spot on my desk."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Becca refolded the paper. "You know, I think you deserve a present, too." The fondness in her eyes sharpened into wicked look that Steve recognized well enough that tendrils of anticipation coiled through him. "You'll even get to do some unwrapping."

Usually he was good about coming up with a quick remark, but Steve felt as though any talk about being intimate made his brain lag. By the time words popped into his head, the response was either dirty enough that he couldn't comfortably push the words out or several seconds too late. Since he didn't want to awkwardly stare at her, however, Steve scrambled for a half-decent response.

"Sounds like a pretty special present." Steve figured that wasn't too bad. At least he'd managed a whole sentence.

"I did have two whole weeks to come up with it," Becca purred. "I decided that someone who's training to save lives deserves something extra special." The gap between them closed, and she pushed him intently backwards. Of course, Steve could have easily held his ground, but he had no inclination to do so. "You remember our last night together?"

Steve nodded. Any ground he had gained in being able to speak had been completely lost to him, especially since recalling Becca in that sinfully sheer red lace wasn't helping him think any. His back hit the door, and the hinges rattled softly. Becca kept her hands planted against his chest. Some part of Steve knew that he wasn't pinned, but the rest of him felt like he was, if not by her hands then by her fiercely confident gaze. The tendrils of anticipation had coiled downwards.

His response must have been enough to satisfy Becca because she put on a grin that Steve thought could be the eighth deadly sin. There was someone walking down the hallway outside, but Becca's smile compelled him to ignore the sound of footsteps. "I'm sure you do with that perfect memory of yours. You know what –" Until that sound stopped behind him, following by the jingle of keys.

Steve shot away from the door as though the wood had caught on fire.

Becca let out a startled yelp, her composure breaking apart into confusion. As the doorknob turned, she folded her arms and hissed under her breath, "God damn it."

The door swung open, and Ally strolled in. "Hi – Oh."

Embarrassment flushed through Steve, making the back of his neck itch. He inspected the floor and wished that disappearing was an option because he felt as though Ally would be able to read everything on his face.

"I sent you a text," Becca grumbled.

"Sorry, I must have missed it. I'll change quick and get out of your hair." Steve saw Ally pivot towards him. He was unable to meet her eyes. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," he murmured.

Once Ally left them, Steve looked at Becca. The displeasure at her roommate's arrival was still evident, even when her gaze flicked to him.

"We've caught each other doing worse, you know. Hazards of living with a roommate." The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. "Although I don't think any of us managed to achieve quite that level of red."

Funnily enough, Steve didn't feel any better. "Great."

"I guess it's better this happened now," Becca sighed, leaning against the couch. She patted the arm rest, which conjured up heated memories Steve didn't need to be thinking about at the moment. "Like, imagine if she had interrupted us when we were –"

With Ally in possible hearing distance, Steve interrupted, "Yeah, it's good that didn't happen."

Becca shot him a wink and proposed, "Let's go find the best spot for this sketch."

Ally popped out of her doorway as they went by her room on the way to Becca's. "Hey. I hate to ask this, but could I borrow you for ten seconds, Steve? I wanted to move my bed up against the wall, and I need someone with muscles."

"I'll be in my room," Becca stated, anticipating his answer. She stalked off.

Steve resisted the urge to follow. It was his fault that Becca was acting so annoyed with her roommate. After all, he had shown up unannounced. If he had let Becca know ahead of time, this situation might have been avoided. Steve felt he should be especially nice towards Ally to make up for Becca's anger, which partly lessened his discomfort about being around her after what had happened in the living room.

"Sorry," Ally apologized, retreating into her room. "The shade broke and now the sunlight hits right in my face."

Steve stepped inside. He'd thought Becca had a messy bedroom, but Ally seemed to be living in the aftermath of an explosion. "I can see how that would be a problem. Where do you want the bed?"

"Against this wall over here. Let me clear my stuff out of your way." Ally hurried to the other side of her bed and starting picking things off the floor. Steve moved to help. While he shifted a lamp out of the corner, Ally whispered, "Listen, I don't really need you to move my bed. I wanted to talk to you 'cause I'm worried about Becca."

Talking about Becca behind her back made Steve uncomfortable, but he had to know if something was wrong. "Why?" he asked, his voice equally quiet.

"I'm not blaming you, but I think she's super stressed out about all the media attention." Ally dropped an armload of clothes onto an overflowing laundry basket. "Do you think you could talk to her?"

While he'd had conversations with Becca about the press before, Steve thought it couldn't hurt to have another talk, especially if Ally was concerned. Since she lived with Becca, Ally would be the first to know if her roommate was acting hassled. Steve knew Becca would try to keep her stress from him under the pretext of not wanted him to worry.

"Yeah. Sure." Steve went back to cleaning, but caught Ally regarding him anxiously. He could sense she was trying to decide whether say anything further. Trepidation crept in, and he made a guess. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

Ally's shoulders sagged, and she nodded. "Becca was barely eating. I confronted her about it. She got mad, but now she's eating more. I'm still worried through. Becca, she's always been really social, but no one's seen her in weeks. Weeks. Some of our friends have been asking me about her. They're worried, too."

Steve recalled how happy Becca had appeared when she told him about losing weight, but he knew that hardly eating wasn't a healthy way to get thinner. Shutting herself off from friends was yet another bad sign. There could be another reason besides avoiding the press for Becca's sudden seclusion. Yet, with the timing and all other indications – her weight loss, her dolled up appearance, her panic during their first media frenzy – shutting herself away from potential run-ins with the press made sense.

Another troubling realization for Steve was that Becca had been lying to him. She had told him about nights out with friends that had evidently been made up. Becca had asked for a chance to prove that she could handle the media attention. Steve had given her that chance, and she had fooled him into believing everything was all right. In a way, she had lied about coping as well. She shouldn't have lied, but Steve felt he was responsible. He had wanted to believe that their relationship could work so much that he hadn't paid attention to the warning signs that were right in front of him. That was the worst part.

"I'll talk to her," Steve promised. He surveyed the thick, wooden bed frame, deciding how best to move the bed when he noticed that Ally still shifted edgily from heel to heel. "Is there more?"

"I… I don't know for sure, but…" Ally sat on the corner of her bureau and sighed.

"But?"

"It's been weird for over a month now. It's like Becca suddenly got all this energy from nowhere. But when it's late she crashes and snaps. Lately, the mood swings have gotten worse. The past couple of days her eyes have been glassy, sometimes unfocused. I heard her crying last night. She told me to go away when I tried to talk to her, but her speech sounded kinda slurred. I thought maybe –" From the end of the hallway, Steve could hear Becca's footsteps approaching. They were soft and cautious like she was trying to sneak close enough to hear. He jerked his head towards the door, a warning so as not to give Becca another reason to be upset with her roommate. Ally raised her voice. "Thanks for fixing the shade."

"You're welcome."

Although unsure of what Ally had been leading up to, Steve had to return to Becca. Ally had mentioned slurring and crying. Did she think Becca had been drunk? As for the mood swings, Steve wondered whether Ally knew about Becca's medication. He had thought she would because the roommates seemed very close. If Becca had kept that quiet, but maybe he would suggest she should tell Ally.

Steve hesitated in the doorway. He almost didn't want to leave the room because leaving meant confronting Becca, and confronting Becca meant that he was faced with the same problem that had surfaced from her negative reaction to the reporters. Did he try to find a way to make things work or did he let Becca go? This time it seemed like a break up might truly be the best option for her. Steve hated to think he had to walk away from Becca. But he loved her, and he would let her go if he had to.

The moment Steve stepped into the hallway, Becca smiled. However, the cheerful sentiment didn't reach her eyes, and suspicion seeped through her voice when she noted, "That took a while."

A lie formed on his lips, but Steve couldn't bring himself to say it. "Yeah. Come on."

He lightly touched her shoulder and directed them into her bedroom. He could tell that Becca had done some hasty cleaning. Her bed was untidily made, and various items on her desk and dresser had been arraigned into piles. Leaning up against the wall behind her desk was the sketch he'd given her what now seemed to have been hours ago. He pulled the door shut behind them.

"Ally said something to you, didn't she?" Becca accused. Steve sighed, wishing he had done a better job at hiding the truth to spare Ally. "That bitch." She tried to storm past him, but Steve caught her arm and held her back. "You're a fucking bitch, Ally!" she yelled, struggling in his grasp.

"Becca, stop it." Steve tugged Becca in front of him, using his body to block the door. "She's trying to help."

"Like hell she is."

"She's worried about you, and apparently she's not the only one."

"She doesn't even know what she's talking about. And she had no right to talk to you." Becca made another unsuccessful attempt to get by, but Steve remained firmly rooted in front of the door. "You had no right, Ally! How would you like it if I told Danny you were anorexic, huh?!"

Steve had no idea what "anorexic" meant, but the way Becca spat the term out, he surmised it wasn't anything good. "That's enough."

"Maybe I should pick something more believable! Maybe I'll tell him you're seeing someone else on the side –"

Becca had once warned him that her medication made her lash out, which lead him to wonder if that's what was happening now. Even so, Steve felt himself getting angry with her. "I said that's enough."

"– since you're such a fucking slut!" Footsteps rushed out of Ally's room towards the front door. "You stupid –"

"That's enough!" Steve barked, unable to stand another taunt in her unwarranted anger.

Becca drew back from him, fuming but wary. "Don't tell me you're taking her side."

"There are no sides." Steve gritted his teeth, forcing himself to speak calmly. If they were both worked up, their conversation would go nowhere real fast. "But if you need to be mad at someone, be mad at me."

"Did you believe her?" Becca balled her hands into fists. "Because then I'll be mad."

Becca had told him that leaving her alone was the best thing to do when she got really angry, but Steve had to get to the bottom of her troubling behavior first. As he figured it, the best way to go forward was to confirm some facts. If Becca saw that Ally had told him nothing but the truth, she may settle down.

"Have you not been eating?" Steve asked.

"I've been eating!"

"How often?"

Becca prowled across her room, lips curved back in a snarl. "Maybe I wasn't eating as much as I should've, but I'm eating now."

"When was the last time you saw one of your friends?"

"I would have said a minute ago, but Ally –"

Before she went into another tirade, Steve pressed, "When was the last time?"

"I don't know." Becca shrugged. She studied a point on the wall for a few seconds, thinking. "A month maybe? I needed a break. Sometimes people do that."

A whole month had gone by without her seeing anyone besides himself and Ally? Steve was ashamed he hadn't noticed that anything was off sooner. "What did you need a break from? Your friends or the press?"

"Oh, don't start with this press stuff," Becca snorted. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, we have to talk about it."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do." Becca was pointedly not looking at him, so Steve stepped closer to try and get her attention. "You've been lying to me, Becca. You lied about going out with your friends, and I think it's because you didn't want me to know how much the press is getting to you."

"That's not the reason."

"All right. What is?"

"I can't tell you. You're just going to have to trust it's a good reason."

It sounded to Steve as though Becca was trying to make another excuse. "How can I trust you when you've been lying to me?"

Finally, Becca looked at him. Obviously exasperated, she snapped, "You think I like lying to you? I'm trying to protect you."

"From worrying?" Becca shook her head. "Then what? What's so bad that you can't tell me?"

Becca wrung the end of her shirt. "Give me a month and maybe I can tell you."

Steve knew waiting a month was out of the question. "No. It has to be now." He couldn't watch her fall victim to something that had such a bad impact on her life. Neither could he trust that she wouldn't lie anymore until he knew what the problem was.

"I can't," Becca pleaded desperately.

There were no other options. Steve made his final move, though the words felt like thorns in his mouth. "Either you tell me or we're done."

"How can you say that?" Becca touched his arms, her hands leaving warm trails as they traced over his skin. "I love you."

The honest truth of her words, the open tenderness on her face put a crack in his resolve. Steve set his arms around her waist, conscious of the faint hardness of bone where there had before been only giving flesh. "Tell me what you're hiding. Please. It won't make me love you any less." And if she told him, he could figure out a way to help her.

Silence stretched out as Becca stared up at him, her eyes darting back and forth like she was trying to unravel the answer to a puzzle hidden on his face. "I need to ask you a question first." Steve nodded his consent. "What is it you love most about me?"

Steve would have liked an easier question. There were a lot of things he loved about Becca. It seemed unfair to have to choose only one. He settled on one of the first things he'd noticed about her, but phrasing his thoughts proved difficult. "You're so... alive. You have all this – this brilliant energy and enthusiasm, more than anyone I ever met." He would have gone on, but Becca got this pained look as though he had shot her.

Becca stepped away, slipping from between his arms. "Thank you for confirming something for me." She was attempting to speak with resolve, but her voice wobbled. "Now I'd like you to go. This is obviously not going to work out."

While Steve had put that option on the table, he was surprised to hear Becca agreed. He had expected a fight. "But –"

Tears glistened as Becca interjected, "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

This was it. They were over. Steve had spent the whole morning excited to see Becca again, and now they were saying goodbye. A numbing sense of shock filled him. "I'm sorry this didn't work." Steve couldn't hurt her another moment by staying and arguing.

"Me too." His body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as Steve opened the door. "Wait." He stopped, a spark of hope igniting with that one word. Becca had her arms wrapped across her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. He would fix this. She would tell him the truth, and he would wipe away her tears and fix this. "You deserved better. I'm sorry I can't be the person you think I am."

The spark went out. Steve took a last look, memorizing her standing there, untouchable, unreachable. He had to let her know one last thing. "I never expected you to be anyone else."

With a click, the door shut behind him. Steve swallowed with difficultly, the dryness in his throat a sign that he was close to tears himself. Her quiet sob nearly broke him. He walked towards the front door wondering just how he was supposed to help her now.

"Yes, you did," Becca murmured as the front door closed.

She fell on top of the bed, curling into a ball as she cried. How could they be over? How could everything go so wrong so quickly?

The past couple of days, her medication had stopped working correctly. The Adderall wasn't doing enough anymore. Becca had felt moody and shaky most of the time, and her eyes itched. She couldn't focus so she'd missed the deadline at work. There were times when even talking felt difficult, like her tongue forgot how to move right, so her words came out slurred. All effects of the Oxy, but Becca couldn't take less because then the pain would come. Worse, Becca had been afraid of what Steve would think when he got back. He liked her when she was all bubbly from the Adderall. Even if she could stop taking her meds, would he love the less perky version of herself? She was terrified that he wouldn't, but she had thought maybe their relationship could last longer if she really tried.

Then Ally had to butt in, and her plan fell all to pieces. Becca couldn't let Steve think the press was the problem because then he'd blame himself. She couldn't tell him the truth either. She hadn't wanted to involve him in illegal medication. But mostly she knew that she had to protect him from the truth about her personality. Steve had left her with no choice. Becca was too ashamed to admit that he loved someone made of nothing but chemicals, so she let him go. He deserved to love someone real. She had done the right thing, but that didn't make her hurt any less.

Becca grabbed the tissue box next beside her bed, hugging it close and blowing her nose into a tissue. This was better for Steve. He could find a woman who was put together and could live up to the Captain America standard. Maybe she had done okay with the media so far, but they would find a way to pick her apart. Steve had told her that their opinion didn't matter. Well, it did a little if they ripped into him for being with her. At least the fans had always been nice. Could be a lucky one of them would be the next Miss America.

Curious if word had gotten out, Becca pulled up the internet on her phone. Steve was never too good at hiding his emotions. Any reporters lurking outside were sure to make a guess. A search of "Captain America girlfriend" revealed no news from today. Becca chose an article which had a picture of them together, despite knowing it wouldn't help. Tears swam in her vision as she stared at the image of her and Steve holding hands. They looked so happy. They had been happy. She skimmed the article, barely able to read through the blur of tears, but found little more than speculation. She was about to turn off the phone when she noticed one of the top comments on the article, which had twelve likes and two dislikes.

Captain America could do better.

The comment stung. Her medication dependency might be ultimately too big a flaw, but apart from that, Becca thought she had been worthy enough of Steve. She had given dealing with medication her best effort. She had ended things between them rather than lead Steve on any further. She had tried. Shouldn't that count for something?

Becca scanned the comment section. Most people had written only about Steve. In those comments which mentioned her, not everyone had bad things to say, but there were enough that did.

she's not even pretty

Is it just me or does anyone else think her nose is too small for her face?

wat a stoopid smile

Unable to stop herself, Becca went back and started flicking through other articles, dropping down to their comment sections.

it wont last. look at her

Guess Cap is a chubby chaser

ew dum bitch

hes so nice. hes probz dating her cuz he feelz bad.

I don't like him with her. Not to hate on her, but I don't like them as a couple.

captain america u r HOT! Why dont u date some one hot as u like maybe megan fox

He's making a mistake.

I don't get it. This has to be fake.

miss america? please. like they'd let someone that fat be in a beauty pageant

As Becca read, pain clawed through her chest, tearing in deeper with each negative remark. How many people thought this about her? How many had smiled at her face while thinking she was ugly or stupid or worthless? A sob hitched in her throat. If the media hadn't liked her, that would have been one thing, but these were ordinary people. And they all hated her. Worse, they thought Steve was making a bad decision by being with her. She was dragging him down.

Becca needed the hurt to stop. This was too much. She scrabbled for her Adderall. Maybe she hadn't taken enough for them to work properly because she'd developed a tolerance. Maybe if she took a whole bunch of the tablets the pain would go away for a while. She opened the bottle and dumped almost all of the tablets into her hand, swallowing them with water. After shoving the bottle into its drawer, Becca decided she should take more Oxy in case she'd taken too much Adderall. That would balance her. Once she had swallowed some Oxy, she buried her face into her pillow and cried.

After a while, Becca thought her meds had done the trick. Her breathing had slowed to an easy pace, only shuddering slightly on each inhale. Her body felt kind of tingly like she was floating over her mattress instead of lying on top of it. Her hands shook, but that happened with the Adderall sometimes. All the added energy gave her the shakes. It would subside when the meds wore off a bit.

Except it didn't. Becca started quivering. She felt a pressure in her chest like hands squeezing her lungs. What the hell? She sat up, and the room lurched. Oh shit, she was going to puke. Becca got off her bed and stumbled, dizzy. She took a step forward towards the trashcan, but couldn't make the distance. She bent double and threw up onto the floor. A sharp spasm ripped through her body, and she threw up again. Her legs gave out, sending her sprawling. Cramps gripped her, sending pins and needles through her skin. Air caught in her chest. She couldn't breathe. Becca dragged herself towards her bed, one hand sliding in the pool of vomit.

As Becca tried to pull herself onto her mattress, a convulsion shot down her spine. She fell, smacking her head against the floor. A moan slid between her teeth. Get up. She had to get up. She grabbed the comforter and pulled, but her arms were shaking violently. She rose a bit and flopped to the ground, useless.

"Fuuuuuuuuuugh." Drool dripped from her chin; her lungs burned. She had to get her phone.

Becca rolled, clinging to the comforter as much as she could. It tugged part ways off the bed, and the phone clattered to the floor. She managed to get up onto an elbow, another convulsion almost knocking her on her face. Her breathing strained, barely passing her lips. Becca heaved herself forward an inch and reached out. She clawed at the power button and her phone lit up. The next spasm drove her to collapse. White crept along the edges of her vision as a sharp pain cut through the center of her chest. She pawed blindly at the screen. She had to lift her head up. Had to.

Becca lifted her head enough to see. Three tries and she pressed the emergency dialer. There was a little icon with a siren. Her hand was almost out of her power to move. She touched a number by accident, then another. Desperately she held her hand up and smacked downwards, attempting to direct the swing. The phone skidded out of reach, but she could hear the ringing.

Becca shook against the floor, fear clamping on her as the whiteness threatened to take over her sight entirely. Had to stay awake.

"Hello, you've reached Ally Kochi." From her accident, Becca had learned to put in emergency contact numbers because that helped the hospital to locate people. It took her a confused second to realize that she must have hit one of the contact numbers. "Leave your name and number and I'll give you a call back when I can."

"Ayllyyy," Becca moaned as the room tunneled. "Huhell mee. Hehph. C-cull nun uhn… cuh… nuh…"

Author's Note:

I have to say, I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a long time. Will Ally get the message in time? Will Becca live? What will happen when Steve finds out? Cliffhangers are my favorite.

Thanks for the support lovelies. See you in a week. (To N: Thanks for the kudos. I do try to shoot for realism.)