His phone screen shows half a dozen missed calls and twice as many texts. Mostly from Sam and Bucky, but also from other fellow teammates.
Sitting on the bed of his room, Steve is bent over, his elbows resting on each thigh, hands joined together in a fist with his chin resting upon it. He hasn't given real news since he left the compound four days ago, or only vague ones to avoid causing any worries.
He was hoping to call — or even better, turn up to New York with Natasha — but the situation has become complicated. He is not sure how to bring her up, or he should at all considering how she has made it a point never to return to that life and that she has just kicked him out of her new one. Involving the whole team would just stir more tension; but then he owes them the truth, too.
His phone buzzes — it's Sam calling in for the third time in the past hour. He answers the phone but Wilson immediately picks up something is wrong. But is something wrong, really? It should quite the opposite. Natasha is alive — that should be enough to make him happy. And as much solace he finds in the thought that she is alive, he cannot ignore his heartache right now.
Steve yields and tells Sam the truth. He explains the reason for his sudden departure and debriefs the current situation. Sam is stunned.
"Want me to come?" his friend says but it isn't a real question. Steve can hear how his voice is slightly shaking with emotion — he's missed her, too.
"Not now. She's not ready — and I don't know if she ever will. We need to respect that."
A few seconds go by before Sam agrees to the terms.
"Do you want me to call Barton and let him know about the situation."
Steve frowns. "No," he says, shaking his head. Clint has mourned her and he has started to move on — maybe keeping him away from all this, for now, is for the best. "No. I think it's better if we wait for now."
The conversation somehow veers off to more trivial matters, mostly related to the Avengers. But only briefly. At the end of the conversation, Sam asks:
"How is she?"
Steve nods slowly. "She's well. I think she's happy."
It is a blissful thought. One he could live on for the rest of his life and that would ease the void inside him if he were to leave this place without her.
"Well, I'm glad," Sam echoes his thoughts wistfully, then he adds. "Steve, I'm sure you'll work this out."
But he is not so sure about that. Nodding silently to himself, he hangs up.
Dinner is cold — and it is not the food — the three of them eat silently in the dining room. Katherine started it off, Steve could not do much about it and kept his tail between the legs, and Eliza had no choice than to adjust. Katherine keeps her eyes on her plate, sometimes throws a glimpse at the elderly woman, but they wander farther across the table.
Once the meal is over, she gets up to wash the dishes, before excusing herself and disappearing upstairs. He tries to make eye contact with her as she swings past him without success.
Eliza is probing him but he has not noticed, his eyes fall back down to the floor.
"You know her, don't you?" she eventually says. "You knew her from before."
He is startled and looks across at her with a deep frown. "The way you look at her…it certainly is not like someone who met her three days ago. More like you've known her for years."
There is no point denying it.
"She was my friend."
Eliza furrows her brows, slightly surprised.
"Friend isn't what I had in mind," she comments.
"Well, it doesn't matter now. She moved on. She's made it clear she doesn't want me in her life."
"She doesn't want you in her life or did you not make your place in it?"
He looks at her quizzically.
"If you allow me an analogy," she begins. "Being amnesic does not mean she is shapeless; it means she has taken a different one. You can't mold her, you can only learn to know the new her."
"You do pottery?" he asks with an arched eyebrow.
Eliza smiles. "Tried it years ago but dropped out of class after three weeks."
He snorts quietly then turns pensive again. "I think it's too late," he says softly. "I don't think she'll let me stay."
The woman's eyes light up and she smirks. "There's nothing that can't be fixed."
A loose board from the parquet flooring squeaks under his foot. His eyes suddenly to the entrance door and the frown on his face disappears.
Katherine comes back an hour later, finding him and Eliza conversing over a glass of lemonade.
"Oh Katherine," Eliza calls as she catches sight of her. "I have some good news. It looks like we may have found a handyman."
She puts her purse down in the touch and approaches cautiously. She pretends to ignore Steve's presence.
"Great. Who?" she asks.
Eliza glances over at her guest. "Steve said he's interested in the job."
Katherine furrows her brow.
"What a surprise," she comments with a dubious expression. "Because Steve is supposed to check out today."
She shoots him a long and penetrating look — not the friendly kind.
"I can stay," he assures. "I think spending some time here might do me good."
She crosses her arms and her body turns completely in his direction, leaving Eliza out of the equation.
"But you were so eager to get back to New York just this morning," she reminds him dryly with an arched eyebrow.
"Katherine dear, we urgently need someone to mend the plumbing."
"We need someone with experience. I doubt the wrench is his weapon of choice," she answers to Eliza, but really, she said to Steve.
"As if we had a list of candidates," Eliza chuckles. "The ad has been out for weeks and we didn't have a single call."
She is now frowning deeply. She eyes Steve with a perplexed expression and a slightly worried look. It is brief, but long enough for him to notice it. He has known her long enough to recognize any shadow of emotion that passes through them. It does not leave him different him — worse, it troubles him.
She disappears into another room without protesting longer but he cannot her silence for victory.
The last thing he wants is to be a cause of worry for her.
So he goes to find her in the backyard as she tidying up old crates and boxes. She pauses upon seeing him then resumes her work.
"I'm sorry," he begins. She throws a glimpse in his direction and walks over to pick up more boxes. He leans against the corner of the house façade. "You were right. You set boundaries and I overstepped. I was just so…," he sighs and looks at her. "I just wanted you back so badly that I overlooked what you wanted. But I can see you're happy here, and I shouldn't have been so selfish and tried to change that."
She is looking at him at him, and he pauses. Her intense gaze somehow strips him off his ability to speak. He clears his throat and quickly glances away. "That's why I'd like to stay. I want to know about you — about the new you — and about your life. Maybe get you to like me: I promise you I'm usually not such a dick. I just…I got blinded by my emotions. I want to make it up to you, now."
"I don't know if I want to engage on that path. I don't want to wonder if I'm living up to the expectations of whatever strong relationship you had with Natasha."
"And you don't have to," he steps off the distant corner, coming closer. "I'm given this second chance and I don't want to blow it. I can't."
He is suddenly caught up by the memory of his crying on his knees on Vormir. "But I want to do everything right this time. I won't take the job if you don't want me to. But don't cross me out of your life completely, please. Katherine…," he whispers softly and realizes it is the first time he says it aloud. She looks at him with a surprised expression. It feels unexpectedly pleasant on his tongue. "Allow me to stay and be your handyman, an acquaintance that visits you from time to time, a partner, your l—," he stops and swallows the lump in his throat. "I'll be anything you want me to be and I promise you I will fill whichever role you choose without ever crossing the line. As long as I don't lose you again. But I cannot go on with my life with that empty space next to me. I tried and I failed miserably."
His hand instinctively goes up to cup her face without him realizing. She holds back her breath and glances down at it, before gazing into his eyes again. "Just tell me who you want me to be," he murmurs.
Everything has disappeared: the mansion, Louisiana, the Avengers, his duty, even Jake. God, he truly wishes the latter has vanished into the abyss of oblivion.
But alas… Katherine reaches up, lays her hand on top of his and slowly pulls away. She smiles a genuine smile he has not seen since he turned up for the first time a few days ago.
"How about a friend?" she asks.
He reminisces an old conversation in a stolen car. It almost feels like old time.
Almost.
He closes his fist and lets her move away before lowering his arm.
"Looks like we have a deal," he answers with a smile.
She does not recognize the shadow of wistfulness which passes through in his eyes.
She then bends down, picks up a couple of crates and drops them in his hands.
"Welcome to Miller's Guesthouse," Katherine says with a smirk.