Her hand reached across the table, comfortably settling into his. Fingers wrapping around his hand, she let her thumb roll around the knuckle of his finger. At the motion, he glanced down at the way their hands were intertwined. He wasn't expecting it, but it certainly wasn't unwelcomed. It was warm and soft, but had a bit of strength beneath it that he knew she had.
"How've you been?" her voice got his attention and his eyes shifted up to her face to meet her warm, sort of curious smile. Like she was genuinely wondering how he had been over the past several months. It had been such a long time since someone had asked him that, that for a moment, he didn't know how to respond.
His immediate instinct was to lie and say he was fine. Cause physically he was, not emotionally though. But then he remembered all the times Q would ask him a similar question and how good it felt afterward when he ended up telling the truth. He wondered if it would still feel the same even though she wasn't the one asking the question.
"Honestly?" he answered her question with another question and a slight eyebrow raise. His tone was enough to make her laugh a little, thinking it was a joke, but he had never been more serious.
"Of course." she shifted in her chair, arm folding across the table and hand coming to lay against her other forearm. Her hand was still holding his, thumb still softly running over his knuckle. She gave him a kind smile, one that reached her eyes. "It's been a minute since we talked." she reminded him with a slight downtilt of her chin. He couldn't help but let out a small scoff.
"Well, a lot's happened since then." he heaved a heavy sigh as if trying to exhale the weight of everything that had settled on his shoulders after the events that happened the last time he was in DC. He used his free hand to twist his coffee cup against the table so he could grab it by the handle and take a sip, "How's the Agency?" he asked, shifting the attention onto her. Deflect and redirect. Q's voice echoed in the back of his head. But if Sharon knew what he was doing, she didn't comment - answering his question with a brief summary about her new life in the CIA: similar to SHIELD, but with more rules and she might be getting a promotion soon.
"If you're ever in the mood to join the team, just let me know." she offered after finished talking about her time there. He gave her a slight smile,
"I'm on quite the team already." he referenced the Avengers without name-dropping them. She gave him a smile and a nod, "But thank you." he added with a slight lean forward, not wanting her to think he was ungrateful. He wasn't, but after what happened at SHIELD there was also no way he would ever be working for a government organization again. Thankfully, the Avengers operated on their own which meant they could help the people that really needed help or go after the things that were actually threats.
For a while, the conversation between them was easy and simple. Basic catching up topics were discussed, mainly focused on her and her life. What she was doing at the agency, how the clean-up was going from the Triskelion falling, and even the weather. But he still hadn't answered her original question. Which she ended up bringing up again when the conversation dried out.
"I feel like we've spent all this time talking about me, but you still haven't told me how you're doing or what you're doing." she reminded him from behind her coffee mug. A caught smile spread across his face while he glanced away from her for a moment, taking in the DC coffee shop they had been sitting in for over an hour.
Originally, he had come to DC to visit Peggy. It had been a while since he had seen her last; he had gotten so caught up with finding Q that he let other things fall to the wayside. But since coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't coming home, he realized he had ignored a lot of other important things. Like Peggy.
Their visit was one of the good ones. Thankfully. He wouldn't know what he would do if he had caught her on a bad day. It was nice to be able to talk to her about things that didn't concern Q or what happened that day on the Potomac. Just a normal conversation between two old (pun intended) friends.
Running into Sharon was a surprise - mostly cause he didn't realize she had stayed in DC. He knew that after SHIELD collapsed, she went to work with the CIA, but didn't know where they had ended up stationing her. She had just happened to be at the same coffee shop he had gone into at the same time he was. It was a coffee shop that he had never been in before, wanting to avoid the ones he and Q had visited while they lived in the city. Of course, it would be the same one that Sharon so happened to be in. And she finally took him up on his offer to get that cup of coffee together.
It had been nice to hang out with her and talk - even if he had done more of the listening. A different kind of nice than the nice that his conversation with Peggy had brought: a more modern kind of nice. He had forgotten what it could be like to hang out with someone who was the same age as he was (not his "real" age of ninety-five, but the age he looked and felt). The only other person he had really hung out with over the past several months was Nat. If you could consider it "hanging out." Both of them really just were working together to find their exes. Most of their conversation revolved around supposed sightings or code that looked similar to Dawson's. Sometimes there would be late night talks about heartbreak and betrayal when Nat had a little too much to drink and Steve was in an emotionally fragile state - which had happened often over the months. Both of them wallowing together in their shared misery of losing loved ones for no real reason except they wanted to go somewhere else.
Ever since SHIELD fell and Q disappeared on him, he had been balancing Avengers work with looking for her. He thought it would be easy to find her; she never came off as one who was good at staying off the grid and out of the public eye. But she was - never once coming up on any security cameras or anything that could be traced back to a location. Her cellphone was still active, but she never picked it up making it so he couldn't track her.
While he knew that she had experience with basic security measures (like when she broke them into the dance studio in Brooklyn), he knew she didn't possess the skills to do something as advanced as that. Then he learned that Dawson had gone along with her, which made all of it make sense. He was the one keeping them hidden, making it all the more difficult to find them.
But it wasn't like he gave up that easy. He had spent six months trying to find any clue that could lead him to where she was. He re-read the letter she left him thousands of times - the paper stained with coffee, food and his tears, looking for some sort of explanation as to why she left. There wasn't anything like that; if there was, he would've had her back by then.
Six months was a long time. Enough time for him to start to properly grieve what had happened to him. Maybe not in the correct linear way that most people did: starting with denial, anger, bargaining, depression and ending with acceptance, but he was working through it. In the beginning, he flitted between a few at a time, never really focusing on one or another. He had left her countless voicemails, all ranging from bargaining to anger to even ones where he just kinda sat there and thought about what he wanted to say but ended up saying nothing.
Slowly, he started to get stuck in the stages. Denial came first; there were a lot of sleepless nights, or nights when he thought she was back - only to reach over in the middle of the night and feel nothing but bedsheets. Or mornings when he went through his routine and accidentally bought two breakfast sandwiches instead of one. Those little moments hurt the most, where he momentarily forgot she had left him.
Bargaining followed shortly after. He found himself leaving voicemails on her cell phone trying to convince her to come home. Even at one point praying to God, which he immediately felt bad about; his mother's scolding voice in the back of his head: God doesn't give us more than we can handle. But honestly? The Guy owed him one.
Far from the acceptance stage, but finally moving out of the denial and bargaining stages, Steve didn't know where he would end up next in the grieving process. But he had to admit, he was able to deal with those two because of the time he had spent with her and learning how to deal with this sort of stuff. The self-imposed guilt, the grief and the anxiety that came with it. He managed to work his way through her leaving him. Even though it hurt. Even though he still wanted nothing more than to find her and hopefully get an explanation as to why she had left. Even though he still loved her.
"Uh, I've still been dealing with figuring out where Q went." he ended up admitting, turning his attention to the empty plate that once house a piece of coffee cake they had shared earlier. His brow furrowed a bit as he felt that familiar tug of pain in his gut when he mentioned Q's name. That was one thing that hadn't went away with time and he wasn't sure it ever would.
"You still haven't heard from her?" Sharon asked, looking concerned, but he noticed how she pulled her hand away from his at the mention. She acted like she was going to pick up her coffee cup, but he knew it was long since emptied.
"No," he sighed out, sitting back in his seat and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, "You haven't, have you?" he felt bad asking, but he wanted to know. If she had contacted Sharon then at least that meant she was alive.
"I haven't." she shook her head, dispelling the small hope he held in Q reaching out to her former co-worker and friend. "I'm sorry, Steve. I would tell you if I had." she assured him with a sympathetic smile. He responded with a small, understanding smile of his own, pairing it with a nod before looking down at where his hands fell into his lap.
"I know, Sharon. Thank you." he quietly said, feeling like he had ruined the moment by bringing up his ex-girlfriend. Still, she took it in stride, changing the subject with an ease that reminded him of Q.
"Been on any fun Avengers missions lately?" she asked with a slight smile and motion of her shoulders. He let a small amused scoff escape as he looked up and across the table, noticing how hopeful she looked that he would take her offer of the subject change. Which he did.
After spending another hour at the coffee shop talking with Sharon, he went his separate way from his ex-neighbor-slash-assigned-SHIELD-field-agent and found he still had some time to burn before needing to return to the train station to take a train back from DC to New York.
Wandering around the city, Steve had started walking toward his old apartment building without even knowing it. Almost like it was instinctual. He only paused when he got to the front of his building, realizing where his feet had taken him without him knowing. The building looked exactly the same and there was a tug in his lower abdomen like his body was telling him to go inside. To go home. But that wasn't home anymore - it was just a building.
Turning down the street, he saw the familiar awning of Albert's deli and almost on cue, his stomach rumbled. It had been a long time since he had one of Albert's sandwiches. And since he was in the neighborhood…
The bell above the door chimed as he walked into the deli. It was busy - the time of day perfect for a quick snack or meal. He spotted Albert hastily moving around behind the deli counter as if trying to take care of everyone at the same time. Usually his sons or some high school teens would be helping, but it looked like there wasn't anyone but him.
"Need some help?" Steve asked once he was able to catch the older man's attention. If he was surprised to see Steve, he kept it close to his chest and shook his head.
"No, no, I got it covered." he waved his dish rag at him and went back to making up a sandwich in a rather long line of unfinished orders.
Not liking his answer, Steve took it upon himself to move behind the counter to at least start paying people out. He had been to the deli enough times to know the prices and his job at the market back in the forties was enough for him to know how to work with money. (Though he did get fired there for accidentally telling a woman a crude joke about toilet paper, but that's another story).
No one seemed to stop or mind that Steve was the one paying them out. All were too focused on getting their food and getting back to wherever they had come from. The line moved quickly and both men started working in tandem. Albert didn't seem to mind that Steve had ignored his answer and actually seemed almost relieved to have a little bit of help.
The rush ended as quickly as it started and once it did, the store felt very empty and way too quiet. Steve returned to his proper place on the opposite side of the counter while Albert started to sweep up the floor behind the counter and clean up a little bit of the mess that had been caused by the rush.
"Thank you, son." Albert said after a moment of sweeping, "The morning was so slow, I told the kids to go home and enjoy their Sunday." he let out a little laugh, "Guess I shouldn't've done that." Steve gave him a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket.
"Always happy to help, Al." he assured him, wanting him to know that he didn't mind at all. Again, Albert let out a little laugh, almost in disbelief. He set the broom to the side and stepped up to the counter,
"Now, what can I getcha?" he asked, resting his palms on top of the display case.
"The usual'll be fine." Steve nodded and Albert raised his eyebrows, two fingers raising at the same time.
"Two of 'em?" he asked, already sliding down to the breads. He shook his head, fists balling into his pockets; of course Albert would assume two: one of him and one for Q.
"No, just one." At his correction, Albert's brow furrowed. It had been a while since he had seen either of them - they had stopped by several months ago to tell them they were moving to New York so he figured that meant together. But now Steve was standing in his deli, alone, ordering one sandwich.
"Is everything alright?" he asked the kid - even though he knew Steve was the furthest thing from a kid. He took in a deep breath, shoulders raising up and glancing away from the other man as if trying to decide if he should lie or not.
"Uh, we actually broke up." Steve admitted, not wanting to lie to the older man. He had always been a supporter of Steve and Q's relationship, having sandwiches ready to go before they even knew they needed them or making little comments about the two of them together before they were really even together. "Well, she left me." he corrected himself, moving his hand out of his pocket so he could motion with it. Albert couldn't help but laugh, which surprised Steve; that was not the reaction he was expecting.
"Damn that girl." he shook his head while beginning to make Steve's sandwich, "Never learns does she?" he asked rhetorically, mainly to himself, but Steve couldn't help but ask for clarification.
"What do you mean?" Slipping his hands back into his pockets, he followed Albert down the display cases, standing on the other side so they could continue their conversation properly.
"I mean, that girl thinks she doesn't deserve anything good in her life. And whenever she gets it, she tries her damn best to get rid of it. That job, a promotion, dates..." he pointed his knife at Steve, waving it a bit before moving to use it against the chopping board, "I've seen it happen, son. Every time it does, she ends up back in this deli - tellin' me about it. But I hadn't seen her in a while so I thought...and then you show up…" he shook his head, "That girl…" he tsked, disappointed in her lack of character growth. Steve wasn't sure how to respond. What Albert was saying made sense; they had something good - hell they told each other they loved the other, and still Q left without even giving him a proper explanation.
"You miss her?" Albert asked, bringing him back from his thoughts. He made eye contact with the man, who looked like he already knew the answer and just wanted to hear Steve admit it.
"Yeah," he answered with a slight sigh and raise of his eyebrows, "A lot." He did. He didn't realize he could until she was gone for good. When he moved to New York for the few weeks before she had, that was hard. But at least they were still together and he could see and talk to her whenever he wanted. Now, he didn't even know if she was even alive. That was the worst part: not having any idea where she was or if she was okay or if she was feeling the same way he felt. Probably not, since she had left him.
"You know the saying: if you love something, let it go?" Albert prompted. He nodded in response, knowing how the saying ended: if it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was. Dread settled upon his shoulders as he waited for the punchline, "Fuck that saying." Albert shortly finished with a wave of his hand, "Fight for what you love, kid. Don't let it disappear on you." he couldn't help but laugh at Albert's opinion on the phrase that was so heavily used to describe love, "Q's the kinda girl that needs to know that you think she's good enough. So show her. Go after her." he said as if it were that simple. As if Steve hadn't already been doing that for the past several months.
"But I don't know if she wants me to." he admitted. The last thing he wanted to do was force himself back into Q's life if she really didn't want him, "And I'm not sure I can get over what she did." he continued, also semi-admitting it to himself too and working his way into another stage of grief. Anger.
She had left him in the most terrible, heart-breaking of ways. Over the course of the past six months since, he had left voicemail after voicemail trying to convince her to come home and nothing worked. Which, in a way, had made him a bit angrier at her for doing that to him. If she had thought he was too good for her or whatever, she should've talked to him - not just left in the middle of the day with no warning except a six page letter that barely held an explanation.
Albert scoffed, shaking his head as he finished up Steve's sandwich, "Forgive her, kid. Life's too short." he said wisely, but the corners of Steve's mouth twitched; he wondered if Albert knew that life had been very long for Steve. He passed the sandwich over the counter and when Steve went to hand over a bill, he waved him away, "All I want is a promise that you'll try." he raised his eyebrows up, almost challengingly.
"I will." Steve answered after a beat with a slight nod of his head. While his efforts of finding Q had slowed, he hadn't given up completely. And he wasn't about to either, no matter how angry he was becoming with the situation. Albert accepted his answer with a nod of his head, bidding him goodnight and turning to clean up his station.
Stepping out of the deli, he unwrapped his sandwich while he walked to the train station. The conversation with Albert played in his head. He was right, per usual, about his reading of Q and Steve hated that he didn't realize it sooner. For a long time he had thought she was the one that was too good for him. How could she possibly think that he was too good for her?
But Steve wasn't sure he was going to be able to do what Albert wanted him to do: really forgive her. At least until he found her and got some sort of explanation.
A/N: A Steve chapter! I gotta say, I was super wary of posting this because I got like NO reviews on the last chapter which makes me feel like I fucked up AGAIN. And I kinda feel like I fucked up on this chapter too...honestly, lately I feel like I been failing at this story lol. Please tell me how I can fix it because I do love this story and what I have planned and want to share it with you all!
Also WHO SAW ENDGAME?! I DIED! Again, I have a ton of ideas for RiM and Queve and other characters, but if you have any theories, I'd love to hear them! LMK in your review!
Thank you to all those who reviewed and continue to review - it really means the world to me to hear your thoughts (even if they're sometimes a bit disheartening lol).