MCU (c) Marvel Studios
What we had was beautiful, I didn't want to wreck it all. Every day I think about the truth: I wish I was…I wish I was…Brave enough to love you, brave enough to love you.I wish I was…I wish I was…Brave enough to love you,brave enough, brave enough…Brave enough to love you. — Lindsey Sterling featuring Christina Perri
He only had experienced a broken heart once in his life and that was when he laid Peggy to rest. The feeling was the same, but the person was different. The floorboards creaked as he walked across the living room and out onto the porch where Wanda sat playing with her magic and watching the western horizon lighten. "Go to sleep," he said, his voice tired.
"Are you alright?" she asked. He nodded and waved her away. She stood with a yawn and walked back to her bed. He sat down and pressed his thumb knuckles against his forehead. Ants crawled between his boots, scuttling and unaware of the troubles of the world. He wished he was an ant. Then he wouldn't have to deal with this ache.
Ever since he was a boy, he had dealt with pain. Bullied as a child for being frail and skinny, for having Bucky standing up for him when his attempts to fight the bullies off backfired. Watching his mother waste away from tuberculosis, laying her to rest besides his father's grave. Never knowing his father, denied entry into the Army five times until Dr. Erskine decided he was worthy of a serum the world over would have done anything to get their hands on. Losing Bucky — twice, though in different ways. Losing Peggy twice, the Avengers. And ten thousand little hurts in between. Pain was a constant in his life. He let out a shuttering breath and looked at the sky.
When he was upset like this as a boy, his mother would take him outside, to the roof of their tiny Brooklyn apartment and they would watch the sky. "Now Stevie, when you're feeling down on your luck, remember that your dad and I will always be with you, and the Lord too. He's watching from above. Just look up, and you'll see us. Always." She would kiss his forehead then and ruffle his hair. He had looked to the sky many times throughout his life in search of comfort and found neither his parents nor God. In a lesser man it would shake his faith.
He hated to admit it, but it was starting to shake his too. Even now as he watched the sky lighten from rose pink to a pale blue, all he saw was the vast endless sky in all its emptiness. His first day back after being trapped in the ice, he had screamed at the sky and cursed it. Broken, lost and confused as to why he even survived. Something in him refused to break though and he pushed forward, spiritually weary and heartsick, but he pushed forward. "Keep putting one foot in front of the other, Stevie. You'll get there in the end." And that is what he did, and what he'll continue to do. Live by the morals she instilled in him coupled with an unshakable faith in humanity's goodness and move forward.
But God… he wished he had told her. He wished he had poured out his heart to her in the darkness, as he held her and kept her nightmares at bay. People would say he was brave and courageous and in a way they were right. Throw him into combat, a life or death situation and he wouldn't bat an eye (flying a bomb laden plane into the Greenland ice shelf was proof enough), but he quaked at the thought of falling in love… deep down he was a coward. He waited too long with Peggy (despite her death, he still loved her and hope one day he'd get a chance to have a life with her. Even though he knew that was impossible). Now he missed his chance with Natasha.
Natasha. Somehow, he had fallen in love with her. She was strong, beautiful, brave and had a dark dry sense of humor that he found amusing, even her playful teasing made him smile. He figured out that was how she showed affection. He noticed that she never teased Rumlow or any of the other guys on the STRIKE team. She was always teasing Clint and Sam, she didn't tease Tony or Vision, and she didn't tease Wanda or Bruce. But he was a constant favored subject of her teasing, and Steve had come to realize her moods based on how much she poked fun at him.
He had asked her to be a friend; she had been his friend, yet something happened, and she had steadily become more than just a friend, a partner. He pulled out his compass and looked at Peggy's picture. He ran the last conversation he had with her before crashing into the ice in his head and scoffed… he was worried about stepping on her toes. Planning a date that would never happened and he regretted that. "I'm sorry Peggy," he whispered, stroking Peggy's face. "I'm sorry I missed our date." He snapped the compass close and slipped it into his pocket, returning his gaze to the ants again, they scuttled along, heedless of his struggles. He looked at the sky and found no comfort there.
During her childhood in the Red Room, whenever she grew scared or uncertain, she would sneak down to the ballet studio and practiced until her feet bled. The Madame praised her, told the other girls to look up to her as an example. Nobody knew that she did it to keep her demons at bay. The ones that the mental conditioning didn't erase. Natasha wished she could dance now. Dancing helped her focus, and while her body was moving her mind was clear and she could thing about other things. But she had an injured leg and shoulder, dancing was out of the question.
She opened her hand, the dead moth crumbled to the ground. His apology was still ringing in her ears. Every fiber of her soul was telling her to get up, hobble down to him and sob into his chest. Countless years of training prevented her from doing that. "Well Nat," she said aloud, "you're coward." She gave a bitter laugh at that. She felt so weak and helpless. She hated it. It made her want to throw up. She shook, a bit from the cold but more so from the maelstrom of emotions swirling about her.
His touch.
His smell.
The feel of his lips against hers.
The way he held her.
Every little thing reminded her of him. She always thought the stories of Captain America, a man of such moral purity were unreal, lies the Kremlin fed to the heads of the Red Room to encourage them to work harder for Mother Russia. She held onto them though, believing that if there was such a man as this fabled Captain America, then maybe…
"I brought you breakfast," Wanda said, holding a bowl in her hand. Natasha looked at the window, the sun had risen while she traversed her thoughts. "It's not good, Sam and I will be going to the town nearby to buy some supplies."
"What time is it?" Natasha reached out for the bowl, which Wanda handed over to her. She made a face at the gruel. She ate worse stuff before though.
"A little pass eight in the morning," Wanda said.
"Be careful when you and Sam go. Don't let him bring his wings, too conspicuous, and if you have to use your powers, use your telepathy. Better they run around acting mad than you bringing down a building down."
"I know." Wanda rolled her eyes. Natasha smirked. The relationship she had with the girl was almost motherly. She ate, poking the food trying to find something that actually tasted like food. "I'll be alright. Sam can watch back."
"Always look over your shoulder, make it second nature, just like I taught you." She ate a few more bites before shoving it away. "Also, while you're in town, get a damn cookbook."
"Steve doesn't like that language," Wanda said, a teasing smile spreading on her lips. Natasha narrowed her eyes.
"Steve can go kiss—" she paused, her mind supplying her with wonderful other places that Steve can go kiss on her "— never mind." She looked away, hoping Wanda didn't notice the flush on her cheeks. With a grunt, she got her feet, swaying. Wanda stood, offering her shoulder. "Thank you," she said. "What about the bowl?" she asked as they hobbled towards the door.
"I'll come back for it," Wanda said and helped her down the stairs.
A light breeze picked up, brushing his hair and brought the scent of weak watery coffee to his nose. "Hey man," Sam said, joining him, and offering him a cup.
"This is all we have left?" Steve asked, looking mournfully at his cup of coffee. The Air Force veteran shrugged but didn't offer further explanation.
"Wanda and I are going into the town later, she and I discussed it while we clobbered breakfast together," he said. "We'll get more instant coffee and something that actually is food."
"Be careful," Steve said, "and go in civilian clothes. Wanda's powers should be enough for you two."
"Hey man, don't count me out of the fight just yet because I'm not a super soldier like you." He moved his jacket aside to show his pistol. "I'm good."
Steve laughed, and they fell into a companionable silence, more birds singing their greeting to the sun and the new day; insects would begin their buzzing refrain in an hour or two once the sun warmed their night-chilled bodies. A rabbit hopped out in the field, looked around and began to nibble at the grass.
"About last night—"
"Don't worry about it," he said, waving a hand. "It was… nothing." He watched Sam rub his face out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing happened." Somehow saying it allowed made it more painful than it was, and he wished something desperately had happen. He sipped his coffee, making a face. "This stuff is worse than what we had on the front back in Germany."
"That bad, huh?" He didn't say anything for a while. "So, what's up with you and Natasha? And it's not because of what I stumbled onto last night, I've been wondering for it awhile. You two were always together at the facility and now you and her are—"
Steve chuckled. It felt good to laugh, even if it was about himself; he cradled the camping mug in his hands. "It's okay, Sam. Natasha and I are friends." Even though I've been falling in love with her since we took down Shield together. "Close friends." Does this mean I've betrayed you Peggy? I'm sorry but I—
"Really close from what I saw last night."
His ears went red. "Nothing happened." Steve shoved his shoulder. "Idiot."
"Loser." They shared a look, a smile and then laughed about it. The way they insulted each other, reminded of what he'd do with Bucky. It was nice, familiar. "Is that why she lets you call her Nat?"
"Don't let her hear you say that, if you want to keep your tongue," he quipped, "but yes. Clint calls her Nat, too." Steve gave a world-weary sigh. He was getting too old for this; he shook his head at the thought. He looked at his feet again, watching the ants. The rabbit hopped to a new spot, long ears swiveling, ever on alert.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked.
Steve sighed. No, he wasn't okay: he clung to a dead dream and longed for a new one with a woman that wore too many faces, but he was the team leader, he couldn't break. Sam and Wanda needed him and so did Natasha. And he needed the three of them. "I'm fine." He watched the rabbit. "Just… a lot on my mind." He mustered a smile for Sam, to put his friend's worry at ease. "I'll be fine." Once I figure out how to tear myself apart.
"Okay," Sam said again as he stood up. "Since Natasha will be laid up for—"
"Two or three days. She heals like me."
"Because the Russians did freakish experiments on her," Sam said. "Pumped her full of super spy serum."
"Yeah," Natasha said, smiling, "that's why." Steve hid his grin behind his cup. He knew she was there and he found it a bit amusing how Sam jumped. "I keep telling you, make looking over your shoulder second nature."
"Yes, ma'am," Sam said, chuckling softly as he stepped around her and went back into the house. He closed the door, even though it was broken and lacked its window. For what it's worth, Steve was touched by the gesture. Natasha groaned as she awkwardly and ungracefully plopped next to him (Wanda had retreated with Sam into the hovel of a house). She leaned against his shoulder, despite what had happened earlier in the morning. He kept his hands on his coffee cup, even though he wanted to wrap her up in a hug and hold her tight. After a few moments she lifted her head from his shoulder.
They didn't say anything, both watching the rabbit. "Is it any good?"
"See for yourself." He handed her the coffee cup. She took it and coughed. He laughed, grinning at her.
"Oh God, this is awful!" she made a face and handed the cup back to him. "How can you drink that?"
"I'm not," he said and sat it down before leaning back on his hands. "Nat, we… we can't keep dodging this."
"What are you talking about Rogers?" she asked. He arched a brow, knowing perfectly well she knew exactly what he was talking about. "It's just rabbit."
"Natasha." He looked at the sky and swallowed. "I'm sorry if earlier I crossed a line. And I just want you to know that I think you're spectacular. A wonderful person and I—"
"No." She looked at him, holding his gaze. "Don't say it."
He could see it in her eyes. "Nat—"
"Don't say it Steve. We can't. We shouldn't."
"I want to be—"
"No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We have Sam and Wanda to think about, plus what about Bucky? We… it's not possible. We're friends!" She put her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. "Good friends." She smiled. "You're my best friend. I've never called anyone else that. Not even Clint. So, feel special."
He looked down at their hands. Her smaller one on top of his. He should say something, tell her his growing feelings and not wait until the end. Yet he couldn't. He respected her wishes too much, her autonomy as a person. He was good at breaking his own heart for other people. It was how he ended up in the ice after all. He closed his eyes at the thought, feeling the tears well up. He swallowed, forcing the emotions back down and he put his other hand on top of hers and squeezed it. "Best friends," he said, even though it hurt his heart to say it. He smiled, and it was then his heart shattered for she had the same smile on her face.
This chapter was an utter bitch to write. BUT, I finally found a song that captured everything I wanted.
Next chapter is going to be funny, (I hope).
The Idiot/Loser thing is Steve and Sam's casual insults for each other. Like how punk/jerk is for him and Bucky.
Steve is the dad of the group. Nat is the mom.
Sarah Rogers called him Stevie. No you cannot change my mind on this.
Good night, it's late where I live, I'm going to bed now.
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Nemo et Nihil