MCU (c) Marvel Studios
And it's killin' me when you're away. And I wanna leave and I wanna stay.I'm so confused, so hard to choosebetween the pleasure and the pain.And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right; even if I try to win the fight, my heart would overrule my mind.And I'm not strong enough to stay away! — Apocalyptica featuring Brent Smith
The water was cold beneath his feet, the stone was slick, and Steve was hyper aware of the eyes on him as he circled his opponent in a crouch, hands open to grab. Sweat trickled from his forehead, ran down the curve of his spine, down his chest and abs. The roar of the waterfall drowned out his thoughts, the cool water did little to combat the oppressive heat. The water sloshed with each step and he wondered why he agreed to this test.
He told himself it was just a friendly spar, nothing to worry about. Yet, he didn't understand why everyone needed to be here to watch. Half the royal court, the King's guard, Sam, Bucky and Wanda. He felt a great amount of pressure to perform well, but not too well. To lose, but to lose in such a manner that it didn't look like he threw the match. He swallowed. He should have agreed to the gym. The water and wet stone wasn't the best surface to fight on. Maybe that's why this spot was chosen. He circled around the edge and looked down; the water fell in a silvery sheet, hundreds of feet below. He was unsure if he could survive the fall unscratched. He inched a bit towards the center.
T'Challa struck first, moving with grace and speed of a big cat. Steve swatted away his blows, backing up, water splashing up in silvery drops. The Wakandan king tried to grab his throat, he backed away giving the other man his shoulder. Steve aimed his knee for the other man's gut, but his opponent pushed his leg aside. Grunting, his center of gravity off, Steve duck low to avoid a raking slash. T'Challa may not have his vibrainum claws but he still had the power behind his strikes. He dodged away, falling onto his shoulder to roll towards the center. He remained in a crouch, sweat beading at his hair line and his chest rose and fell with each breath. The royal court and guard roared with delight at the contest and Steve had to tell himself to not look at them.
T'Challa charged him, feet slapping against the wet stone and rabbit kicked him. He blocked, arms cross before his face. He grunted at the impact, which would have broken both arms of a normal human. He slid back a few feet, panting. "What's the matter old man? Can't keep up with the King of Wakanda?" T'Challa taunted, a playful smile on his face.
Steve shook his head, brushing his hair out of his face. It was getting long. He charged at T'Challa, slipping into his guard and getting in a punch to the solar perplex. It winded the other man, but T'Challa blocked his second blow and punched him in the ribs. He grunted, batted T'Challa's arms away and got in several rapid jabs, gaining ground in the process.
There was a collective booing hiss from the Wakandans, which muted the whoops of encouragement from Bucky, Wanda and Sam. T'Challa grabbed his wrist and kneed him in the stomach, pushing towards the waterfall's edge. He waved his arms, gaining his balance again. "I can do this all day," he said, bringing his hands to guard.
"Show him how we do it in Brooklyn, punk!" Bucky yelled.
"You got this Steve!" Wanda cheered.
Steve nodded, engaging T'Challa again. The Wakandans began to stomp their feet and clap, a chant rising from them. Their numbers and the acoustics of the waterfall battleground caused the sound to reverberate; Steve felt it deep in his chest. To counter this, Sam started to bellow Queen's We Will Rock. Wanda and Bucky soon took up the chant, but considering it was just the three of them verses the gathering of Wakandans, it didn't have the same resonating effect.
The King of Wakanda attacked again, viper-quick and Steve was barely able to keep up. They traded blocks and blows, more taps against their bodies than actual lethal blows. Steve lost his footing a few times, having to dodge and roll away to regain it. He swore T'Challa had some sort of traction on the slick surface. The chant echoed through the arena and at one point sent a flock of parrots ca-cawing into the sky. The riot of color drew Steve's eyes; T'Challa snarled, racking his hand across Steve's face, his head whiplashing to the opposite side. He stumbled, catching himself on the slick stone.
The watchers held their breath. He tasted blood in his mouth. He could reach out and grab T'Challa's ankle, throw him on his back and pin him. He would secure his victory, but he was unsure at what cost. T'Challa said he would not hold a grudge if he lost to him, but that was before half the royal court and the royal guards decided to watch as well. Steve stayed down, allowing T'Challa to kick him in the gut and roll him over. The other man fell upon him with the speed of a ravenous hyena and grabbed him by the throat, one claw-like hand poised to gouge his eyes out.
Steve saw his friends ready themselves for conflict. T'Challa relaxed, laughing as he got off Steve and helped him to his feet. "You fight well" — he gave a leonine grin — "for an old man."
"Uh." He had to catch his breath. "Thank you, Your Majesty. You… you fight well too." He watched as T'Challa raised his fist in the air, the Wakandans cheered in triumph as their king was once more victorious.
Wanda was the first to his side; she had been in the weeks after Natasha left. They had stayed in Europe for a little bit, doing odd jobs and vigilante work. They kept to small things, nothing too large scale that involved civilian casualties. Somehow, they were recognized, and they fled to Wakanda before they were caught. A lot had changed in a year, T'Challa had his own story to share, surprising Steve. They had pulled Bucky out of cryo for him. His friend wouldn't say on the progress of his recovery though, but he seemed stable, though he didn't like sleeping and the medical staff would give him sleeping pills, so he wouldn't dream. He refused to wear his new arm though, too many dark memories he had said.
"You're bleeding," Wanda said, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
"I'm fine," he said, waving her way as Bucky and Sam walked over. Natasha never fretted over his injuries the way Wanda did. He hoped the girl wasn't developing feelings for him, he'd hate to break her heart.
"You put up a good fight, punk," Bucky said. "I was expecting you to win though."
"Did you really want him to humiliate the King of Wakanda, who's giving you asylum and trying to fix your head, in front of his own court?"
"Half the court," Bucky said and gave a one-armed shrug. "T'Challa wouldn't kick me out. I think he likes me." Sam rolled his eyes at that.
"Damn it's hot," he muttered. Bucky gave him a wry smirk before kicking water at him. He glared and kicked water back. Steve watched this with bemusement. It was good to see Bucky acting more like himself, even if he smiled less and had a haunted look in his eyes.
"Okay, stop," he said, "you two are acting like children."
"He started it," Sam said, Bucky snorted.
"Even sound like children," Wanda quipped. Steve chuckled and shook his head, glad for their company. His smile fell, the sting of Natasha's absence acute and painful. He hoped she was okay, wherever she was. Safe and happy, that was what he wanted for her. "Steve?" Wanda asked, and he realized then they were looking at him, concern on their faces.
"I'm fine," he said, waving her away. "I'm going to shower." He pushed away from his friends and walked towards the stairs to shower.
The hot water was soothing against his skin, but it did little sooth his mind. He couldn't help but to imagine Natasha, drying her hair in Sam's spare bedroom, the tank top hugging her curves. He wanted to touch her then, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. She smelled of raspberries, mint and blood. He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her skin beneath his hand when she had been injured. It was soft, smooth. She still managed to shave her legs while they were running. He couldn't forget the curve of her breast as he cleaned her shoulder wound either.
Blood rushed south, he swallowed and switched the water to cold. He jumped, shocking himself out of such thoughts. No, he wouldn't entertain such fantasies, no matter how tempting they were. Natasha was… he wasn't… He wouldn't betray Peggy in such a fashion. "Damn." He swore, clenching his fist and began to scrub his skin until it was pink and raw. He turned the water off once he was clean and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stepped out of the shower and wiped the mist from the mirror, staring at his reflection.
He can confidently say he only loved two women: Peggy and Natasha.
Both women he couldn't have. He gripped the counter, biting his lip in frustration. Why did he always do this to himself? Why was he always drawn to fiercely independent women? Women with intelligence and charm and a hard-outer shell that protected their wonderful pure hearts. He brushed his teeth to distract himself. Then dressed and walked into his room.
It was spacious, appearing more open due to the floor to ceiling windows that over looked the Wakandan jungle. A colorful parrot flew pass, he could hear the distant hoots of monkeys and cries of birds, muffled by the glass. The bed was large with soft sheets and a light comforter. The weather was too hot for his liking, and he found himself sleeping in his boxers with only the top sheet to cover him. There was a desk with a lamp to the right of the bathroom, and not much else. In the evenings he'd draw — always it was Natasha — or he'd read. He'll have to talk to Sam and Wanda about leaving Wakanda soon. By now their trail would have gone cold. He hoped at least.
He sat on the bed with a sigh, shaking out the towel so it could dry. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. He never was good at being idle. Maybe, he should go find Sam and Wanda and asked about leaving and what they should do once they did. Maybe, they'll agree to look for Natasha. He felt bad knowing that when he will leave, Bucky will go back into cryo.
He swallowed at that. Wanda and Sam wouldn't agree to that, there was still a small amount of distrust still there. He knew it. He was being selfish. It was unlike him. The door hissed opened and Bucky walked in. "Hey," he said, walking up to him. "What's with the gloomy look?"
"I uh… nothing," he said, offering his friend a quick smile. "Just thinking." About how I miss Natasha, how I miss Peggy. How I regret not catching you and allowing Hydra to turn you into the Winter Soldier. Just thinking about all the mistakes I've made when I'm alone with my thoughts.
"Ah." Bucky sat down next to him.
Steve picked at a loose thread on his pants. He had so much he wanted to talk to Bucky about, to tell him. The silence stretched on for what felt like a life time before he finally said, "Peggy's dead." He didn't know why he settled on that topic, but he felt like his best friend should at least know that. Bucky looked at him, twisted a bit and pulled him into a hug.
"I'm sorry, Steve," he said, "I knew how much she meant to you."
He hugged Bucky back, a lump catching in his throat. Bucky was all he had left of his past, his last connection to the life he once had, the life he wished he could go back to. Natasha had hugged him after Peggy's funeral. He shed silent tears as she held him; she didn't want him to be alone. He felt ready to cry again as Bucky patted his back. They pulled away. A comfortable silence fell between them. "Oh." Steve stood up and went to the desk, opening a drawer and pulling out something. He came back and handed it to Bucky. "It was… all they could find when they went looking for you."
"My dog tags! You've kept them?" Bucky laughed, looking at the metal tags in his hand. His name, identification number, blood type, religious preference and branch of service stamped into the metal. "I can't believe you kept them." The smile he gave Steve was sad, the implication of the dog tags hung heavy between them.
"I carried them with me everywhere," he said. "Kept you close." He looked at his hands. "It was one of the first things I demanded returned to me after they pulled me from the ice and explained what was going on. I've kept them with me ever since." Bucky offered them back, he shook his head. "Keep them, Buck. They belong to you."
"Alright," he said and slipped them over his head. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
They didn't say anything for a long time, but the silence between them was comfortable, a silence of two friends that had seen enough of the world and were ready to slip away from it. A light rain pattered against the windows. Steve twiddled his thumbs. He opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again only to close it once more. "Bucky." When his friend looked at him, he licked his lips. "I'm sorry about—"
"Are you still beating yourself up about that?" Bucky asked. He bowed his head. "You did everything you could. You were more important."
"I was no more important than you!"
"Only you could stop Hydra. I just helped." Bucky smiled. "Don't beat yourself up over everything. You need to learn to be honest with yourself, Steve."
"I should have done more… especially with Tony—"
"No." Bucky shook his head. "No. He had every right. If… If things had been different… if you weren't there… I probably would have let him kill me. God only knows I deserve it." He watched the darkness slip back over Bucky's eyes, like a cloud over the sun. It broke Steve's heart, for he had seen the same look in Natasha's eyes before.
"Don't talk like that, you weren't yourself!"
"Steve, regardless if I was in my right mind or not, I still killed those people. I still killed Tony's parents. Their blood is still on my hands. No matter how often I wash them. My fingers drip blood." He looked at his hand. "I killed them. No way getting around the facts."
"Buck—"
"Thank you though," he said, "for giving me a second chance. Princess Shuri thinks she's figured out how to reverse or block the brainwashing and the command words" He smiled at that. "I may not have to go back into cryo if you leave again or if you do, it'll only be for a little bit. She says there are still some kinks to work out. Which would be nice." The smile he gave him didn't reach his eyes. "All thanks to you."
"You're welcome. I would do anything for you," he said.
"I know. About time too. I need to cash in on all those times I saved your skinny ass."
He laughed at that, clapping Bucky on the shoulders. "It's good to have you back, I missed it." He smiled.
"But what's been eating you, lately?" Bucky asked. Steve blinked, digging his toes into the plush rug beneath his feet. He wondered if it was a Persian rug, and if so, how did it find its way into Wakanda. "Steve?"
Steve shrugged. He didn't want to talk about Natasha. Natasha needed to stay behind in his past, just another skeleton in his closet. He missed her though. He stood up and walked over to the windows, watching the rain. A frog clung to the glass, throat flickering with each breath. He smiled at the tiny green creature. They had found frogs once, after the Ultron incident. He had tossed one at Wanda. The girl screamed and caught it with her telekinesis. He was surprised the frog survived. He tossed another one at Natasha, who caught it with a slight annoyed look on her face before setting the animal in the grass. "It's nothing Bucky."
"Rather big nothing for you to not tell me," Bucky said. He groaned as he got up and joined Steve at the window. "Who is she?"
"What makes you think it's a girl?" He looked at his friend, wondering if Bucky could still read him like an open book after all this time. His mother told him once he wore his heart on his sleeve, and it was what drew the bullies to him.
"Because last time you gave me the silent treatment was back in Germany, and I asked you if you had asked Peggy to dance yet." He bumped him with his shoulder. "So, who is she?"
"I… it's nothing. Was nothing, will be nothing." The frog climbed further up the glass, tilting its head up to watch the rain. He tapped it and the frog stilled. He could feel Bucky's eyes boring holes into his shoulder, the rain pitter-pattering against the glass, his own aching heart. He curled his hand into a fist, thought about punching the glass and unclenched his fist. "I still love her."
"I know," Bucky said. "But she's dead. Can't keep living in the past." He snorted. "Should take my own advice. I know she meant the world to you Steve, but Peggy would have wanted you to move on. Find someone else and live. You owe her that. You owe Peggy Carter at least that much."
He nodded, knowing Bucky spoke the truth. Yet, it was still so hard to let go of it. He wasn't sure if he dreamt in the ice, but if he did he knew his dreams were of Peggy, of the life they could of have if things had been different. If they had found him or there was another way. He traced a mindless pattern on the window, watching the rain drops slid this way and that along the smooth surface. "Natasha." He licked his too-dry lips. "Natasha Romanoff." He looked away, not noticing Bucky's sudden rigid posture.
"Natasha, huh? She was the one that helped us escape, right?" Bucky asked. He nodded. She fought off T'Challa with her stingers, giving them tight to escape on the jet and find Zemo waiting for them at the bunker in Russia. He had contacted her, said he needed her and she came looking for him a year later and then only a few weeks ago decided to leave. He was… disappointed to say the least. After a handful of months working with her, if felt like things had gone back to normal but now…
He shook his head. She did leave him with one thing, beyond the scent of her perfume and the brush of her lips against his ear. He would keep it to his dying day.
"Yes. That's her." He looked at Bucky. "She was my first real friend… after the ice. I trust her. Like I trust you."
"Sometimes I worry about how willing you are to trust," Bucky said.
"Why? Do you know something about Natasha that I don't know?" he asked, bristling. He snorted like an enraged bull, and then relaxed. What did it matter now? He and Natasha would never be anything more than friends. He knew enough about her to be her friend. "Never mind."
"No, it's just… you trust broken people so easily," Bucky said, sounding casual though guarded. He thought about pressing him for information but decided against it. Bucky blinked. "You like her."
"Don't start—" his jaw clenched.
"Your biggest problem," Bucky said, "is that you are always so concern about others. You do everything for others. But the amount of times I know that you have been selfish and done something for yourself, I can count on my one hand that I have left."
"Buck—"
"So, give it to me straight, Steve. How do you feel about her?"
He gave a ragged sigh, running his hand through his hair and paced the room, before sitting on bed again. Where did he begin? How should he begin? What should he say about Natasha. The feel of her lips on his as they kissed on the escalator, the tenderness of the kiss she pressed to his cheek. All the almost kisses they had shared since she had joined. The almost moments that could have gone further, but they were both too afraid of—
What? Losing the other? Falling in love and having to watch the other die. If that was the case, then he should never had made friends. Never had made any emotional connections. It was dangerous and only lead to heartbreak. He looked at Bucky and sighed, "I miss her, Bucky." He looked out the window. Peggy, forgive me, but I need this. "I—"
The door hissed opened. T'Challa flanked by his head of security, a fierce woman named Okoye, along with Wanda and Sam came in. "One of Stark's jets is requesting entrance."
"So? Deny them," Bucky said. T'Challa gave him a look and Okoye lifted her chin.
"Did you hail them?" Steve asked, standing up. He looked around for some shoes, found them and put them on.
"We did," Okoye said, "the pilot requested to speak with you."
"Me?" Steve paused in tying the shoe. "Did they say why?"
"No."
Steve sucked in the corners of his mouth. Sometimes Okoye didn't give him enough information. "Alright." He finished putting his shoes on and stood up, gesturing to the door. T'Challa nodded and walked off. They waited for him to leave before following, Sam and Wanda flanking him and Bucky taking up the rear. "Were you two there?" he asked.
"It sounded like Vision," Wanda said, and he heard the hope in her voice. "But he's at the facility, I'm sure, and Tony would never just let him leave."
"Not with that rock in his forehead," Sam agreed. Steve nodded, trying to think who would have a Stark jet and requesting access into Wakanda.
"Could it be Stark?" Bucky asked, an edge to his voice. "Come to finish the job?"
"No," he said, "Tony knows when he's beaten and I'm sure someone would have talked some sense into him."
"Rhodey probably…" Sam muttered, and he noted the bitterness in his other friend's tone. He refrained from asking what that was about. The four-some fell into silence, following T'Challa and his entourage through the gleaming hallways of the royal palace to the control room. The doors hissed open to reveal a hidden technological marvel. It still took Steve's breath away at the high level of sophistication the Wakandans possessed. He looked at T'Challa, who nodded and gave the order to put the image up on screen.
"Vision!" Wanda shouted, rushing forward. The guards came, but at a gesture from T'Challa they backed down. "And Natasha. Steve!" Wanda turned to look at him. "She brought Vision!" The grin on her face threatened to split her face in half, tears shown in her eyes.
"This is Natasha Romanoff requesting entry," Natasha said into the head set as she flicked switches, one hand on the joystick. "I repeat: This is Natasha Romanoff requesting entry."
"She opposed me at the airport," T'Challa said, jerking his head to the screen. "Why should allow her into my country?"
Steve stared, joining Wanda at her side. Natasha was just like he remembered. The determine set of her jaw, the grace and poise of a dancer, the slight wave to her blonde hair. She looked up again, her green eyes bright as she held the jet level. "This is Natasha Romanoff, requesting entry."
"Steve, let her in. She brought Vision."
"Or Vision brought her," Sam said, "this could be a trap Steve. She did leave. What if she left to go back to Stark and now has a bunch of men in the back ready to arrest us all."
"She's on the run too, Sam! She told us that when she first found us. She helped Steve and Bucky escape."
"I know she helped Steve, Wanda, but… it doesn't change the fact that she allowed us to get tossed into that prison."
"She was bound by the Accords, she couldn't do anything unless she wanted to go to prison too."
"I need an answer," T'Challa interjected.
"Steve, she left to go find you. I know Sam and I didn't trust her at first, but… we work well together," Wanda said. "And she left us, but she's back now."
"Is Steve Rogers, there? If he is may I speak to him, it's important," Natasha asked.
"He never told us why she left, beyond 'personal reasons', Wanda," Sam countered.
"Because of me," he said, taking another step closer. Sam and Wanda stared at him, he ignored their looks. He couldn't stop staring at her face, the curve of her lips, looking ready to spring into a smirk or a tender smile. He could see the freckles that splashed across her nose. "She didn't leave because she was going to betray us. She left because she was scared."
"Oh, just let her in, I want to talk to Vision!" Wanda said, impatient.
"Is he… the red man… a person?" Bucky asked, eyes fixed on Vision and his unusual appearance. He had been wondering about that ever since he saw him at the airport.
"Android." Sam looked at him. "Long story."
"Okay."
"I'm here Natasha," he said, finding his voice. The smile threatening to burst on her face made his heart flutter.
She returned the smile. "Hi."
"Ma'am." His grin widening at that. "They want to know why you've come." He looked at T'Challa and the other Wakandans in the control room, and then at his friends. "Why have you come, Nat?"
There was a pause, her image flickering for half a heartbeat. She licked her lips, looking unsure. "I… I have something important to tell you, Steve."
He watched her flex her fingers on the joystick, heart thumping a sharp tattoo against his chest. The room narrowed to him and her. He wanted to ask her what she wanted to tell him, but his tongue stuck in his mouth. The hum of the advance machinery turning into a pleasant white noise.
"Captain?" T'Challa asked again, bringing him back to the present. Steve swallow. "I need a decision."
"Let her in." He tore away from the group and ran to the hanger bay; hearing T'Challa give the order as he ran out of the room.
The jet had landed by the time he got into the hanger bay, the flight crew bustling around it like a group of busy bees. None of the guards where around though, T'Challa having deemed that if he trusted Natasha Romanoff than he shall too. Steve paused briefly in his mad dash to orient himself as the jet's ramp hissed down. Vision floated out first, serene and ethereal as always. He'll let Wanda greet him. He saw her then, on the ramp. His heart leapt into his throat, forcing him to swallow.
"Natasha!" he shouted, running towards her, a boyish grin on his face his face. His hands felt clammy, butterflies in his stomach and his legs threatening to turn to jelly. "Natasha!" He couldn't stop smiling, he wanted to cry.
"Steve!" she was running towards him, a look between concern, shock and joy on her face. He opened his arms wide as they closed the gap, her lithe body folding itself into his broader one. He wrapped her in a hug; her hands were tugging on his face down towards her, her mouth slightly parted. He was shocked at first when she kissed him but sank into it.
They broke apart. He cupped her face, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks. "Nat… you came. I… you came." He couldn't stop touching her face. She was real, she was here, and he was so in love with her that it almost felt like a dream; a dream that could actually be realized oppose to the one he still clung to. I need this Peggy, please, don't be mad, you will always hold a special place in my heart, but… I need this. He kissed her brow, just to reassure himself that she was real.
"I did." She blinked several times, sniffing softly. "Steve" — she patted his chest, thinking — "Steve, I love you."
Uh… yeah.
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Nemo et Nihil
PS: Updated things.