In what feels, to him, like five minutes later, he is alerted by the ringing of his cell phone. At first, Steve's startled and confused, and springs from the mattress, gun at the ready. But taking in his surroundings, he quickly realises what is happening and calms down enough to look for his phone. When he grabs it and sees "Catherine" splayed across the screen, Steve realises that she is calling from her stateside phone and can suddenly feel the furious pounding of his heartbeat against his ears. He takes a deep breath to try to calm himself down and nervously answers the call.
"Hello, Cath?" He says, praying that his voice sounds a little bit more self-assured, but knowing that he's failing miserably.
"Steve? Can you hear me?" comes Catherine's voice, loud and clear, like a drink of lemonade on a hot summer's day. Steve feels elated at the sound of her voice, relief flooding him with an adrenaline discharge, heart clenching at the sudden prospect of seeing her soon, or of her not being able to come. He can't decide which idea causes him more trepidation.
"Cath, Aloha, yes, I can hear you. Did you get my message?" he says, and immediately chastises himself for the stupid question, after all they haven't spoken in months, of course she's heard his message! He opens the door to the gun room and moves to the main room, the night cold hitting his flesh like a harsh wakeup call.
"Yes, I did. Steve, listen, don't be alarmed, but there's a car coming your way. Just stay indoors and don't shoot anyone, OK?" Catherine says, and he can hear the faint smile in her voice.
"OK… What's going on, Cath?" Steve asks, on high alert regardless, but willing to wait out the arrival. He is on edge, but her voice has calmed him down. Despite the whole situation he's in, he's heard her tell him, implicitly, not to panic or freak out.
But Catherine has already disconnected the call and, like once before, he can see the lights from a vehicle quickly approaching and hear the engine roaring. After stopping, he hears a door open and close, and the vehicle starts to move again, sounding more and more distant in the background. Steve waits a few seconds, and then there is a knock. Thinking back to three years before, in what had been a really embarrassing situation, he laughs bitterly to himself and approaches the door, opening it without fear, but instinctively clutching the gun in his hand to his side. The vision that greets him is one of solace, comfort and warmth. At that moment, all grief is forgotten, all is well with the world again, and his heart is at peace. She is here. In front of him. With a sad smile plastered across her face and looking tired as hell, clinging onto a ruck sack and uneasy. She looks at him tentatively, eyebrows raised, but when he smiles at her, she opens her arms and moves forward, hugging him tight and speaking into his ear.
"I heard about what happened, through the grapevine, so I immediately called my handler and told him that I needed to come, no matter what. He made it happen. I know you tried to call me, but I only arrived stateside this morning. I thought about calling, but…"
Catherine lets the reason drop, as though there is no excuse for her missed call, and looks down, trying to suppress a tear. Her eyes are red and he can tell she's been crying. Steve moves forward, uncocks his gun and envelops her in a fierce hug, trying to tell her so much with it… "It's OK that you didn't return my call, you're here now"; "I know, I am mourning his loss, too"; "It's so good to see you"; "Come out of the cold and let me hug you". But he says nothing, immediately taken back to the day before and tries his hardest to dismiss thoughts of Joe from his mind. Tightening his grip on her slender form, he nestles his chin on her shoulder, discreetly reaching for the pulse point on her neck and just lingers there, breathing in her scent, her arms around him, calming him. Her body is the one that best fits the nooks and crannies of his own. He feels comforted by the knowledge that unlike Joe, she's very much alive, but he can't help the sudden panic that assaults him, thinking she might also disappear from his life. Sensing his agitation, but not understanding it, Catherine stays still and holds him, waiting for the wave of emotion to pass through him. She asks no questions, instead deciding to wait for him to talk when he's ready.
Finally, Catherine loosens her grip on Steve and moves her chest and head backwards, looking into his vacant eyes. He looks so tortured, so sad… clearly he hasn't shaved in a while and there's a marked hunch on his shoulders. Her heart goes out to him and she hugs him again, conveying how sorry she is at his loss. He moves aside, breaking contact to allow her passage, and closes the door. Taking her bag from her hands and dropping it on the floor, near the entrance, he leads her to the table, where he lays his gun. Pulling out a chair, he motions for her to sit down, doing the same, and just stares at her, not quite believing she's here. In front of him, mere hours after he's gathered up the courage to call her and leave a message. She feels the need to speak first, breaking him out of the spell he seems to be under.
"How are you"? She asks, leaning forward in the chair and clasping her hands together, nervously realising that she needs something to do with herself, now that she's face to face with this man that meant so much to her, and probably still does. But now is not the time to be thinking of that.
"I'm fine", he replies, not wanting to burden her with his grief, so soon after losing emotional control. He still can't believe she is here, in the flesh, with him, materialized from some cruel hellhole far, far away, he's sure.
"Come on, Steve, it's me", Catherine says, leaning her head to one side and frowning, disbelief evident in her features. "I'll ask again – how are you?"
"How do you want me to be?" Steve replies, realising that even though it's been a long time since they've seen each other and he's not used to her eyes on him, she still knows him too well for him to try to get any emotion past her. "Sad, mad, feeling guilty about Greer, not really able to believe that I've lost a second father and that I'll have to bury him soon…. He was my father when my father couldn't be there. I think it's pretty safe to say my life would be very different if Joe had never come into it. It's crazy to me, how somebody who's not even blood can make such a giant impact, you know? He died to save my life. Again."
"Yeah… and in the end, he was more blood than some other people, let's put it that way…" she says, almost to herself, slowly shaking her head.
"Yeah, you're right. My mom really owes the name some cuddles and sleepless nights", Steve says, pensive. Once again, he realises they understand each other on so many levels, it's frightening.
"As for Greer, you had no way of knowing. That's what makes a double agent good. Don't blame yourself", Catherine says, smiling weakly at him.
"I should've known, damnit!" he says, raising his voice slightly, trying to contain his anger.
"Hindsight is 20/20, you know what they say. And it's true, Steve. Greer worked for the Agency for years, and she knew very well how to pull her strings as well as hide her motivations. Even the people who worked closest with her thought she was kosher, so why chastise yourself? You had no way of knowing. She's the one in the wrong, not you or anyone else."
"I want her", he says, tightening his jaw.
"We'll deal with her when the time comes – that is one of the reasons I was given leave to come here so quickly. The Agency really hates double agents and they got wind that she escaped prison. But first, we need to find out who sent those guys after your team. And before that, we need to focus on laying Joe to rest. He deserves our fullest attention."
"Yeah, you're right", Steve says, not moving, a whirlwind of thoughts making his head ache. The pain he feels is unbearable and all he wants to do is go back to the day before, when the Universe was still a plethora of possibilities and his second father was alive, standing in this same room, giving him relationship advice.
Catherine reaches for his hand and squeezes it, bringing him back to the present. She doesn't utter a word, as she knows Steve enough to know that he needs to process his grief. He looks at her, trying to explain further.
"Cath, he's gone, he died in my arms. I tried to save him, but couldn't", he says, looking her in the eyes, tears springing from his. This is the most vulnerable she's ever seen him, and it's making her uncomfortable to see such a strong, powerful man, so broken.
Catherine gets up and moves to stand behind Steve, embracing him, trying to offer him any little comfort she can. All she manages is to allow him enough privacy to cry openly. She holds on to him and closes her eyes, waiting for him to calm down and his tears to subside. She remembers his father and the pain he must've felt when he was assassinated by a monster; his friend Freddy and the guilt he felt at having to leave him behind in North Korea, to certain death; even his mother's pretend death and all the consequences to the entire family; a pang of guilt assaults her thinking on how he must've felt when she left, without much of an explanation. She knows enough of this man to know that he loved her.
Steve reaches for her arms and strokes them, looking for comfort, leaning back until his head rests on her abdomen. He keeps his eyes closed, prompting Catherine to lean down and rest her chin against his hair, hoping this will tell him that she is here for him. After a few moments, Steve straightens his body and gets up, rubs his eyes to get rid of the tears running down his cheeks and moves to her duffel bag, overwhelmed with emotion. He's been vulnerable enough for the day. Turning to her, he adds, feeling so very tired:
"Come on, let's find you somewhere to sleep."
Catherine follows him silently, knowing full well there's nothing she can say, no words of comfort, which will calm him down or mitigate his sadness. They reach Joe's room and Steve picks up the mattress propped up against the wall and lays it down on the floor, turning to her, awkwardly.
"Sorry, I have no idea where he kept sheets and pillows. I dragged a foam mattress into the gun room and lied down to try and get some rest. That's as far as I managed to get, tonight."
"It's OK, Steve, don't worry about it. I've slept in worse places. I'll rummage the drawers to try and find some sheets. We can take turns sleeping?" Catherine suggests, hoping he accepts her offer of some rest, at least.
"No, no need. I asked local law enforcement for protection, so they'll be patrolling the area 24/7", Steve says, tired.
"Are you sure?" Catherine asks, wondering if they'll be safe nonetheless.
"Yes. Besides, you look like you need a good night's sleep and I feel like I'll never be able to sleep again, so… Besides, I armed the perimeter outside this afternoon."
"Sure you did", Catherine sighs, turning to him after having managed to find a drawer full of bedlinen in the room. "Help me make the bed?" she says, smiling at him, trying to distract him from his thoughts.
"Sure."
Steve tackles the task at hand with military precision, eyes vacant and distracted. Once they are done, Cath heads for the bathroom to get ready to sleep and Steve brings his own mattress from the gun room and lays it on the floor, next to hers. He looks at it with annoyance, unwilling to go in search of another set of sheets, but aware that he shouldn't share hers. He just stands there, indecisive, when she comes back from the bathroom and eyes him with kindness, immediately understanding what's going through his mind.
"Steve, just sleep on the mattress that's already dressed. It's a double, makes no sense to find more sheets, and frankly, I'm really tired. I came back from Turkey this morning and really need to get some sleep, if I'm going to be in any fit state to help, tomorrow", she says, matter-of-factly.
Steve is still hesitant, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
"Are you sure?"
"Please. Come on, how many beds in how many countries did we share over the years? It's nothing different, now", she adds, trying to make him more comfortable with the idea, not realising what she's just said.
"Thanks. I'm sure I won't be able to sleep, but I need to rest. We both do."
A few minutes after his head hits the pillow, he's asleep – a fitful, restless sleep, laden with nightmares that will keep him waking up every hour. Catherine lingers a while longer, thinking of the mammoth task they have ahead of them and how they won't be able to pull it through without help. But nothing can be done at this precise moment and sleep claims her minutes later.