Chapter Twenty-Four

I wish I could do better by you,
'cause that's what you deserve
You sacrifice so much of your life
In order for this to work.
...
When you cry a piece of my heart dies
Knowing that I may have been the cause
If you were to leave
Fulfill someone else's dreams
I think I might totally be lost
You don't ask for no diamond rings, no delicate string of pearls
That's why I wrote this song to sing
My beautiful girl

The Girl by City and Colour

Steve leaned against the railing and hung his head. The crickets were chirping loudly, but that wasn't what was keeping him awake. It was Emily's question: how much had S.H.I.E.L.D. interfered in her life?

Director Fury's voice echoed in his ears. "Rogers, she wouldn't be here in the first place if she knew how much S.H.I.E.L.D. had interfered with her life already." It had been weeks and weeks ago, when Emily had found out about Erskine. But was this the extent of it? Had they watched over her for her protection?

And why did he feel so responsible for all of this?

Because, Steve told himself, the serum worked on you. If it hadn't, HYDRA wouldn't have shot Erskine and his wife needn't have had to go into hiding. The Strategic Scientific Reserve and its successor S.H.I.E.L.D. would not have kept tabs on the family, and Emily would have been clear of all of this. She would have been 'just a girl from Massachusetts with a history degree', like she'd said before.

It was the other side of the coin. Had Erskine's formula not worked, who knew what would have happened. Steve would have stayed the skinny asthmatic in Brooklyn, doing anything to join the Army. He wouldn't have crash landed and woken up sixty-seven years in the future. He wouldn't have met Peggy. He wouldn't have met Emily. Or he could have died in the machine, becoming a notation of a failed experiment. Schmidt might have succeeded in his plan for global domination. Steve shook the horrible thought from his head. He couldn't bring himself to imagine that world.

Everything circled back to that first failure. He, Steve Rogers, had failed to save Dr. Erskine, the man who had given him everything.

Had he reacted quicker, Steve might have been able to pull him to safety. Instead, Erskine had been killed in the moment of his triumph.

Steve turned when he heard a whimper coming from the room. He'd propped open the door when he'd come outside and had left the lamp on low, wanting to make sure that if Emily woke up, he'd know. When he nudged it open a bit more, Steve saw that she was still asleep, lying on her side, and not moving. Thinking he might have just imagined it, he turned to resume his spot when she did it again. In an instant, Steve was crouched beside her bed. "Emily. It's just a bad dream." Her hand clenched on the pillow.

Sighing, Steve put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. It surprised him when Emily gasped and pushed out of his hold, her eyes flying open. A soft scream burst from her lips, and he jumped to his feet. "It's just me," he said, holding up his hands. He could still see the panic in her eyes as she pressed a shaking hand to her heaving chest.

"You don't wake someone having a nightmare up," she said after a moment. Steve frowned.

"Why not? Isn't it better if you don't have to finish the dream?" She shook her head and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. After a minute, Emily looked up at him.

"Have you slept yet?" She noted that he hadn't changed, and that his shoes were on.

"Can't sleep," he shrugged. Emily shook her head and got out of the bed; Steve took a step back. He watched as she untucked her shirt from her skirt.

"Try?" Sighing, Steve kicked off his shoes. Emily smiled and, once she'd changed into her nightclothes, sat on the corner of her bed. "Why do you look so upset?"

"It's nothing," he replied, folding his clothes and placing them on his bag. When he heard Emily yawn, he smiled. "Go back to sleep." She shook her head and tapped her temple.

"It'll start right back up again."

"What were you dreaming about? If you don't mind me asking?" Emily flushed and picked at the comforter.

"Just a movie I saw when I was a kid."

"Yes?" he prodded. Instead of answering, Emily walked to her computer and did something before beckoning him over. On the screen was a young woman and…a man standing upside down? Steve raised an eyebrow and watched as the odd looking man sang and the girl tried to reach the baby through a maze of stairs.

"That's what I dreamed about, those damn stairs. Except…someone…was chasing me. I watched him grab Tuck," Emily shook her head and shut the computer. "It's embarrassing."

"No it's not," Steve said. He reached up and tucked Emily's hair behind her ear.

"Alright, I shared, now it's your turn. What's keeping you up?" Steve sighed and looked down, avoiding her probing eyes. "Steven Grant Rogers," she said, bending so she could meet his eyes. "You better tell me or I'm going to assume the worst and be awake worrying about you all night."

Steve shifted uncomfortably, but couldn't help smiling when she used his full name. "I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Emily's voice was confused.

"If I had," he began pacing the room and rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to put it. "Erskine would still be alive if…if I had reacted quicker."

"What?"

"By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late. I-"

"Shut up." He froze mid-step, surprised by the anger in Emily's words. "That is not your fault."

"If the serum hadn't-"

"If it hadn't worked," she said, stalking towards him, "who knows what would have happened."

"He wouldn't have-"

"They probably would have killed him anyways." She flinched at the callousness of her statement, aware that she was talking about her own flesh and blood. "Erskine would have continued to work on the formula until it was perfected." Emily fought a scream of exasperation when Steve shook his head and stalked over to him.

"Your life would have been different if I would have gotten to him first."

Emily placed a hand in either side of his face and forced him to look at her. "You're right," she agreed. When his eyes closed tightly, she stood on her toes and kissed his forehead. Steve took a breath before placing his hands on hers, and trying to step away from her, but she didn't let him. "If you had gotten to my…my grandfather, than my Grand-mère wouldn't have had to move, and wouldn't have married Grand-père Charlie. My mother wouldn't have met my father in Maine." Steve started to stroke her right hand with his thumb. "And I wouldn't be here." He opened his eyes and saw her smirking. "Bet 'cha didn't think of that."

"No," he admitted. "I thought at most that I wouldn't have met you."

"Nope, completely gone. Now," Emily moved the hair from his face with her left hand before again raising herself and pressing a kiss on his cheek. "For the last time, you need to stop worrying about what you can't change."

For a moment, Emily thought that Steve was going to kiss her. His right arm wrapped around her waist and drew her closer. His blue eyes darkened and he lowered his head slightly. She could have sworn his eyes darted to her lips before meeting hers again.

But he blinked and seemed to shake himself. A shy smile appeared on his lips and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her into his chest, and forcing her to drop her hand. "I'll try to stop doing that." Emily repressed a sigh and threaded her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.

"Promise?"

"Promise." They were quiet for a moment, and Emily allowed her eyes to drift shut again. "You should get some sleep," Steve said. She nodded against his chest but didn't move. It made her smile when he chuckled, her head bouncing slightly against him. Neither moved for a long minute, until Emily's eyes opened when Steve kissed the top of her head. He was blushing when she looked up to meet his gaze. "No more nightmares tonight."

"Going to fend them off for me?" she asked.

"If I have to," he nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll hold you to that," Em teased. "You're going to sleep, right?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking for."

OOO

Steve slipped on his shirt and fixed the collar, his eyes darting towards Emily. She was still asleep, one arm thrown over her head and the other buried under a pillow. He glanced as his watch as he slipped it on his wrist and shook his head. It was nearly nine o'clock, and she showed no signs of waking up. Once he'd rolled up his sleeves, Steve walked over and sat on the side of her bed. "Emily." When she didn't respond, he chuckled and gently shook her shoulder.

"Hmm?" she groaned breathily.

"Are you going to wake up?" She didn't respond, but rolled away from him. "You're going to stay in bed all day?" She nodded into the pillow. "Really?"

"Really," Emily nodded. "I'm tired." When he didn't say anything, Emily sighed and opened her eyes, turning back to face him. "You don't have to wait for me. I know you've got things you have to do today." There was an unspoken acknowledgement that Emily did not want to go with him to see Dugan again.

"I won't be too long," he assured her.

"Take your time. Who knows when you'll be back out here again."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll call your cell if I need anything." Steve looked confused for an instant, before it turned to bashfulness. Emily put a hand over her eyes and smirked. "Do you even know where it is?"

"At the bottom of my bag."

"It's not doing you much good there, is it?" her hand swept the hair from her face before settling near his leg.

"I guess not. But you're the only person who would call me."

"Coulson might."

"He would call you if he couldn't reach me."

"Touché. But leave it out and I'll charge it for you."

"Okay."

"Now go away, I want to sleep."

"Yes, Ma'am," he laughed, giving her hand a squeeze. "Call Dugan and I'll be back right away." Emily gave him the thumbs up before turning back to the pillow. "Oh, and Ms. Potts called while you were sleeping."

"WHAT?!" Emily shot up and grabbed her phone, looking at the call history. "What'd she say?"

"She wants you to call her back," he shrugged. Once Steve had gotten his things, he drove not to Dugan's, but to a church that he'd found the previous morning. It had made him pause, wondering if he had any right to go in after the curses he'd hurled at God for playing so cruel a trick on him.

The priest with whom he had spoken to the day before raised a hand in greeting as Steve walked in. He nodded before dipping his forefingers into the stoup filled with holy water and making the sign of the cross, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

"Welcome back," the Priest said as he strode towards Steve.

"Thank you, Father Harris," Steve smiled.

"I wish some of our other parishioners were as dedicated as you."

"I've got a lot of time to make up for."

"Then don't let me keep you from it," Father Harris said. "But as I reminded you yesterday, there is no need to 'make up for lost time.' Remember Deuteronomy 31:6." Steve nodded and lowered his head as Father Harris quoted, "Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid; for the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will never leave nor forsake you."

"I won't forget that again," Steve assured him.

"I can't imagine what you men go though over there, but God never forgets a soldier. He never gives us more than we can handle." Steve nodded. When he'd spoken to Father Harris the day before, he had guess that Steve was a veteran, and had counseled him on how best to reconnect with his faith. "Feel free to come speak to me if you feel the need."

"I will," Steve smiled and shook his hand before Father Harris went to address two older women who had just walked in. He strode up the center aisle and stopped at a pew close to the alter. After lowering his right knee to the floor and making the sign of the cross again, Steve took a seat and lowered his head to pray.

OOO

It was closer to noon when Emily left the hotel. She'd called Ms. Potts back and, after conferring with Agent Sitwell, worked out a tentative date for them to go to California. If not then, they would have to wait until she returned from her Denver conference in three week's time.

The bag containing Steve's forgotten wine-stained shirt swung in her hand as she walked through the town in search for a laundromat. The front desk manager had told her that there was one a mile or so up the road. So she had grabbed her things, as well as Steve's now charged phone, and trekked the short distance, hoping to salvage the shirt. Emily had paid a woman to use her bleach and, rather than staying in the noisy, hot building, had gone to a drug store to pick up a few things.

While hunting for a new pair of sunglasses, Emily smiled when her eyes landed on a pair of aviators. She picked them up and tried them on herself but frowned at her reflection. While they didn't work for her, Steve had been squinting while driving yesterday. What glasses would suit a Captain more than aviators?

Once she'd selected her glasses and grabbed a new bottle of concealer, Emily paid and walked back to the laundromat just in time for the shirt to finish the wash cycle. Satisfied that the stain was fully removed, she tossed it in the dryer and settled down in a chair to check her e-mail on her phone.

One of her friends had forwarded her a job posting at the university she was working at. Think about it? Christine had written. Miss you! Emily scanned the posting and figured she qualified for it. But then again, she thought she'd been a good candidate at the universities she'd interviewed at before, and look where that had gotten her. Even the two that had assured her that there would be an offer had left her hanging.

Emily shook her head and typed out a quick reply that she was happy at NYU. Honestly, she wanted to submit her resume. And now, after finding out that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been watching her for most, if not all, of her life, Em wanted nothing more than to hand in her resignation and find some college to teach at. Where she wouldn't have to worry about keeping secrets from her family, and have a normal life where aliens and monsters were just fiction.

But that would mean leaving Steve and Carter. Emily knew that Fury would do everything in his considerable power to block her from seeing them again. And she wondered if they would do as he said.

OOO

Steve leaned forward and set his beer on the coffee table. He and Dugan had spent the day discussing the good 'ole days. He had been able to tell Steve about the rest of the team, how both Jim Morita and Jacques Dernier had been offered the Infinity Formula but had turned it down. Morita had wanted to a normal life and left the military after the war. Dugan had gone to his funeral the previous year. Dernier had returned to France and lived a quiet life in the country, where he'd died of old age nearly fifteen years ago.

"They had the right idea," Dugan nodded, raising his bottle to his lips. "Wish I would have gotten out of the espionage game long ago. Pearl begged me to do it, but I wanted just one more year."

"It's easy to get caught up," Steve agreed.

"You're telling me. You should have seen Pearl's face when they offered me the Directorship."

"And you turned it down?" the astonishment in Steve's voice was evident, and Dugan jerked a nod.

"I'm an old dog, Rogers. They needed someone younger, and Fury was a better candidate. Besides, I'm not one for politics."

"We're soldiers."

"That we are, Cap, that we are. Besides, I was about to hand in my resignation when Stoner's recruitment methods came into effect."

"What methods?"

"Eh," Dugan took another swig of beer. "Stoner wanted the best he could get from the military. Wanted to take advantage of a lot of loopholes and force soldier's hands. Fury told me he was going to put a stop to it, which is why I backed him."

"How was he going to force their hand?" Steve frowned.

"Not entirely sure. I only had Level 8 security clearance. But I knew I didn't want a part of it. I don't want to be involved with blackmailing people to join."

"Did Fury stop it?"

"As far as I know," Dugan shrugged, lifting his hat off his head and swiping a hand across his brow. "I try to stay out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s politics. Like I said, I want the quiet life. I don't want to be back in that game."

"Do you know what they've got planned for me?"

"Not a clue. We were looking for you," he assured Steve, "but we didn't know if we would find you. So we didn't include you in any plans."

"It probably doesn't include a quiet life," Steve raised an eyebrow and took another swig.

"No, it probably doesn't," Dugan agreed.

OOO

Emily tossed her bag on the bed and slid her new sunglasses to the top of her head. From the second bag, she took out Steve's folded shirts and brushed at a few wrinkles that had already begun to form. When Em put it on his bag, she was surprised to find her hand had brushed something hard just inside.

Normally, Emily didn't consider herself nosy, but Steve had left the bag unzipped just enough for her to see the black cover of the sketchbook she'd made him buy. It surprised her, because she hadn't seen him drawing at all. Curiosity piqued, slipped it out of the bag and was just about to flip the cover open when her cell phone rang. "Hello?" she answered. The book tumbled from her hand when the person spoke.

"How is Oregon?" Emily looked around the room, panicked, as Blonsky spoke again. "You didn't think I'd give up on Rogers that easily, did you?"

"Wh-what do you want?" she demanded.

"That should be obvious, Emily."

"Ross was told to back off," she forced her voice to be more firm, even as her hands shook as she drew the curtains over the windows.

"Ross isn't the only party interested in your boyfriend."

"Who?"

"Tut-tut, where would the fun be if I told you that?"

"Go to hell," she spat before hanging up. She half expected him to call back as she dialed Agent Coulson's number.

"Coulson."

"He knows where we are." There was silence on the other end.

"Come to New Mexico. We've got enough agents here to keep Blonsky at bay for now. I'll have Sitwell set up your flight."

"Thank you," Emily sank onto the bed and put her head in her hand. "I'll call Steve."

"Captain Rogers isn't with you?"

"He's with Dugan."

"I'll tell him. We could use him as back up, anyways."

"For what?"

"I'll see you soon, Dr. Harthorn. Don't worry, we'll take care of Blonsky."

Author's Note: I'm sorry this is delayed! I spent the weekend moving into a new apartment and didn't get a chance to work on this until last night after I passed out on the couch after work. Thanks for blown-transistor for looking this over and being a sounding board.

And we're back to angst. I pictured Steve going, "Erskine's granddaughter, Erskine's granddaughter!" during their little moment in the beginning. Sorry for the teaser, but hey, I gotta get my kicks somehow. I in no way pretend to be knowledgeable about the rights and rituals of the Catholic Church, so I depended on Google and my 5 year-old memory for that part. A lot of stories I read seem to forget that Steve was religious. Kinda felt like at some point he needed to go to church.

Some notes on the Steve/Dugan conversation. Colonel Rick Stoner was the first Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I couldn't find much information on him, so I made up some stuff to suit my story. Dugan actually was an Executive Director after Fury, but again, I'm messing with canon. This chapter involves a few throw backs to the beginning chapters, mostly Steve's conversations with Fury. Hopefully you guys enjoy that! I try to plant stuff far in advance of actually using it.

Again, sorry for the delay. This chapter is shorter than the others partially because of that. Please let me know what you guys think!