**A/N: After 8 months of working, I'm finally back at school. After one class, I'm already neck deep in reading. Learning about history is amazing, but reading about it can be very... mind-numbing. Anyways, I'm taking two online classes (commute to my school is about an hour and I'm not about wasting two hours of my life to get to class when it's -40 outside), which is more work but also more time at home so YAY. I've got up til 35 written, so I should be okay with updating every week :) Fingers crossed!
Chapter 31- Cut the Strings
"You're so close to tellin' me you're leaving, packin' up your things and leavin' town. If you can walk away the rest is easy, once you cut the strings that tie you down. Just look me in the eye and say it's over. Just tell me you don't want me around. Once you say goodbye, it's gone forever, once you cut the strings that tie you down. There's no way I can picture me without you. I still think of you in your wedding gown. If I have to give you up, may God be with you, once you cut the strings that tie you down."
~The Strings that Tie You Down, Vince Gill
Bethany blinked a few times, trying to understand where she was. Not only that, but she had no idea of when and how she got there. She had been somewhere… else. At least, she thought so. But it was as if every thought in her brain was now gone. Even if she had been somewhere else, there was no way back to it since she didn't even know where that place was.
It was cold. The wind was brutal against her skin and all she had on was her thin red uniform. Why? She asked herself. Out of all the things to be wearing, why would she chose that? She looked around, trying to put a name to the place. She was outside, that was for sure. And she had a feeling that she had been to this place before. In a dream maybe? She had no sense of déjà vu. But still, this place had an odd feeling to it. Like she had been there a long time ago. A lifetime ago maybe.
Instead of grass, the entire area was covered in weeds, which were thriving so well, as far down as she could see it was all green, yellow and white. There was a small wooden house tucked away in a corner, looking well deserted and like it could tumble down at any moment. No one had been there in decades, but a torn up American flag still flew above the front door. The blue colour had turned almost white and the red was now pink. It looked like it had been through hell and back, a lone soldier waving it proudly whether it was in victory or defeat.
There were rocks past the house, however. Lots of rocks. All of them big, most rounded at the top, others flat. She felt herself being called to them, as if they were singing a song that had been written just for her. The closer she got, the more anxiety built up inside of her. They weren't rocks. They were gravestones. And there wasn't just a couple dozen of them, there were thousands.
That was when Bethany registered that there was no sound but the wind. No chirping of birds, no hum of air conditioners or the comforting vroom of cars. She was alone. The only life around her was the weeds. Even the sun seemed to be dying, the chill in the air growing more intense and the light in the sky dying down. It wasn't quite dark enough to be night time, or even evening. The sun was high in the sky, and there wasn't a single cloud. The sun had just lost its spark.
Stopping in the front row of tombstones, Bethany read the names. Anthony Walter Stark and Elizabeth Mary Stark. Her parents. Beside their stones were names of distant family members and family friends. All people that she knew had died when she was younger. Blanc, the white stray cat Bethany had rescued when she was three, only for her mother to throw him out into oncoming traffic. Pamela Coursin, the red-headed little girl with freckles she sat next to in the first grade. She had died of tuberculosis before they graduated to the second grade. Samuel Trady, the annoying and fat boy that pulled her pigtails and called her ugly when she was seven who had died of Scarlet fever. Even her sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Mennie who had gone mysteriously missing one day, only to be found dead in an alley dumpster three weeks later.
Bethany felt a chill work its way up her back. This wasn't the wind but the haunting feeling of being surrounded by these people in her life who had died. She knew all the names on the tombstones; and was able to put a face to every single one no matter how much time had passed. She took a few steps to the next row, not knowing why she was torturing herself, but knowing that there was nothing for her behind her. There was only going forward.
The second row was even more disturbing than the first. The middle tombstone read Abraham Erskine. There were flowers laid upon his grave, but not fresh. They had turned brown with time, and the petals were crispy instead of soft. She couldn't even tell which kind of flowers the bouquet had been. It scared her to think that no one had paid their respects in such a long time. A man like Erskine deserved continual visitation and remembrance. More so, he shouldn't be buried all the way over here. He should be with his family, a family that had been taken away from him too early.
Beside Erskine was the name of a SSR nurse, Marta Allen, who had died while treating the men at the base they were stationed at. She had a simple cut on her finger, a thin slice from a medical form that she had been filling out, that quickly got infected. It got into her bloodstream before they could even do anything about it. Bethany had liked her. It wasn't often that she met a woman so comfortable with their sexuality as Marta Allen was. She made Bethany feel comfortable, even if they had only talked a few times.
All the other names were soldiers that she had met who had died. In the far distance, she saw Jason's name. The very same Jason who had made her fall in love with him for sex and then only used her. She hadn't really cared about what happened to him in the future, but it looked like he died in the war. That he hadn't got a future. Bethany didn't even feel a twinge of sadness for that man. She knew she should have. She had loved him once, or at least believed that she had.
With every row came another mark in Bethany's past. Daniel McCain who had been her SHIELD trainer, and very first partner. The man who taught her that just because Steve wasn't there anymore didn't mean she had to be weak. That she could be strong too. He gave her strength, a lot of strength, and so much fire that Bethany had become one of the most dangerous people in the world. She convinced people his death didn't affect her, but she had mourned him for years. He treated her with so much respect and admiration, as if she was the one training him and not the other way around. Daniel had loved her; this she always knew. And Bethany thought that if she could learn to love him back, that she could finally get over Steve. But Daniel knew how much Steve meant to Bethany and never acted on his impulses. Bethany could have thrown herself at him, and he still would have firmly told her 'no'. He had a special place in her memories.
Howard and Maria's tombs made Bethany sick. Howard had wanted to meet with her that day, to talk to her about something important, but she had brushed him off. In fact, she had blown him off a lot in those last years. She regretted that now. Bethany and Tony hadn't shed a tear at their funerals, but Tony was extremely drunk and broke down after the service. It took all Bethany had to get him to calm down and understand that he had her. That they had each other.
Bethany kept moving forward, reading every single tombstone before her heart froze. She wasn't at the last row, but all the names going forward were names she didn't recognize. The row in front of her, however, made her heart jump into her throat. Anthony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, James Buchanan Barnes, it all went on and on, all for people she knew to be alive. Flowers laid on every single grave except for one. Bethany walked all the way down, wondering who hadn't got a bouquet.
The gravestone looked heavily beaten, as if someone had angrily thrown rocks at it, kicked it and showed it absolutely no respect. The letters carved into the stone were so crudely down that it took Bethany a minute to realize who it belonged to.
Steven Grant Rogers.
There was a brief moment were Bethany couldn't do anything, quickly followed by an uncomfortable pinching sensation in the tip of her nose and a heavy lump building in her throat. She was on the brink of tears, the edge of a breakdown. Not only was Steve dead, but someone had completely disgraced his memory. There were no dates on his stone, as there weren't for any of them, but Bethany hadn't noticed this until then. She needed to know when she lost him. How? And to who? Who had taken the love of her life and trashed his resting place as if he were no better than a piece of trash?
She let her emotions overwhelm her. There was no one to see. She cried and cried, the wind growing stronger as she howled along with it. She was utterly alone. Everyone she knew was dead, long gone, and it was just her left. But the one person she needed the most was Steve. If he was there to hold her and kiss her, she could accept everyone else's death. But then she wouldn't be alone, and that's what was affecting her the most.
"I thought you were over him by now," a bored, deep voice startled her. Jolting in her spot on the ground, having collapsed under all the weight of her loneliness, she realized that she wasn't completely alone. Turning her head, a tall man stood above her. He looked so much like Steve, but instead of her husband's stick straight hair, each group of hair curled perfectly.
"Jamie?" Bethany's voice shook. She was unsure, but there were certain parts of his features that she couldn't just ignore. Her lips. He had her lips. And her hair. But everything else was Steve's, except a glint to his eyes that made him look like he was up to no good, even if that wasn't the case, an attribute that was Howard's.
"Come on, Ma," Jamie said, holding out his hand for her. "It's been years since you even visited him. Let's go home. Forget about him."
"For-" She lost her voice for a moment, her heart pounding. "Forget about him?"
"Yeah, it was easy enough when he was still alive but not here," Jamie said, as if tired already of talking about his father.
"How long? How long has it been?" Was Bethany's next question, turning back to look at Steve's headstone.
"I don't know. Fifty maybe sixty-"
"Sixty years?" Bethany yelled, looking at her son, clearly in his twenties. She could feel her heart starting to crack.
"Since he died," Jamie said with a heavy sigh. "Momma, let's go. Please. I don't like being here."
"But… he was your father," Bethany whispered, touching the rock, her finger catching on one of the cracks. She felt her skin peel apart before quickly closing up, a lone streak of blood the only thing left to show that there had been any damage at all.
Jamie rolled his eyes when Bethany looked up at him. "Momma, he was barely around. It was always about being Captain America, never about being Steve Rogers. Never about us. And by the time he tried to make amends, it was too late. We had moved on."
"Never," Bethany found herself saying, emotion thick in her voice.
"Well, you did," Jamie promised, growing bored.
"How?" Bethany pressed on, looking at the other rocks. "How did everyone..?"
"Some died in the war," Jamie replied, sitting next to her. "Some of old age. Daddy dearest was one of those people. Look, he only came back to us when we were all that was left. He was too old to fight those last few years anyways, but he did it. He wanted to do that more than be with us. I thought you were okay with that."
"I just… I forgot," Bethany found herself saying, her voice tired.
"We don't need anyone else," Jamie continue. "We've been fine by ourselves. They were all weak anyways. They couldn't last like we could."
"Did you do this?" Bethany squeaked, pointing to the damage at Steve's tomb.
Jamie let out a long breath of air before nodding. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd come out here again. And on that small chance that you did, you wouldn't react like this."
"I love him," Bethany stressed, unwilling to make it past tense. She felt empty inside, even with Jamie beside her. But this man was filled with so much hate that Bethany had a hard time thinking that he could have ever been her sweet little boy.
"I know you did," Jamie muttered. "And you tried to hold onto him for far too long. But it's been decades, Momma. And you never mentioned him. He ruined our lives. He doesn't deserve your tears or pity. No matter how much you loved him. And we both agreed that being with him was harder than being without him. So we left. We cut the strings and didn't look back."
Her tears fell over the brim of her eyes this time. Jamie's words cut deeper than a knife. "No," she found herself crying. It just wasn't possible. None of it.
But she could hear words, words that were very familiar. "Pretending that you could live without a war." Yes. Those words. And the look on Steve's face when they were said. There was so much truth. But what she couldn't believe was that Steve, who thrived on making her smile, could let them walk away. That the threat alone wouldn't make him change his ways.
"You gave him a million chances, Ma," Jamie continued. "Every time he said things would change and every time nothing did. In the end it didn't matter how much you loved him and how much he loved you. And if we had stayed… I don't know what would have happened. We would have been collateral damage, I guess."
"No," Bethany repeated, this time her voice deep and thick. "I don't believe you."
"You never do," Jamie said with a sigh before getting up and walking away.
"And I never will," Bethany whispered to herself, refusing to pull herself together. For who? For what? Her own son hated the man she adored. A son who wasn't aging and would never have a future. Nothing around her had a future. Nothing but the weeds that stretched out as far as she could see, surrounding by a million gravestones, blank, just waiting for names to be etched upon them.
Gasping as he woke from his nightmare, Steve spent a few seconds lying there, trying to physically and emotionally recover from what he had just seen. It had been so real. "Beth," he whispered to himself, trying to make reason to what he had just experienced.
Steve had no way of knowing if that baby Bethany had been pregnant with back in 1944 was a girl or a boy, but after that dream, Steve was having a hard time believing that it could have been a boy. It was a girl. He would have had a daughter. And two sons. Two sons who barely knew him because he was too busy, always at war.
He just left her, with a life she didn't want, while he went off to war time and time again. And at the end…
"Beth," he said again, louder. She had died. And he had watched, as if it was a blessing in disguise. "No," he told himself, getting up from his spot. Steve needed to see her, see that she was okay.
"I'm here," her voice called out, raspy and distant, like she was thinking hard about something. He quickly pulled himself together before helping her off the ground. All he could do was look at her, and it seemed like she could only do the same. "We've got to go," she told him after a moment of the two of them just staring.
He wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her that he loved her, but for some reason, he couldn't. He kept seeing her in that perfectly crisp white dress, pin-curls and red lipstick. He kept seeing that hollow look in her eyes. But catching her chin and forcing her to look at him, that hollow look he was seeing wasn't imaginary. Deep within her eyes, she looked betrayed and lost. She looked empty.
"Steve," she stressed. "We have to go."
He nodded, letting her lead the way. She stopped once to hand Steve his helmet, which he apparently took off sometime in his dazed state, before she hurried over to where Clint was struggling with Natasha, the spy looking like she had just walked through hell. Even Thor looked uneasy. Steve slowly let out a breath of air, closing his eyes for a moment. That witch had barely done anything and they were all so utterly… broken. They were like her own personal play things.
No one but Clint said anything on their way to the quinjet, the group waiting for Tony to return with Bruce. Clint had given them the rundown, the group absently watching clips from mainstream media showing what the Maximoff girl had down to Bruce. Clint was quick on his feet, making sure that everyone had what they needed, helping Tony when he carried an unconscious Bruce into the quinjet before they took off.
Despite sitting in their customary seats next to each other, Steve had never felt so far away from his wife. He didn't know what she saw, but hoped it wasn't as... scarring as what he had seen. Everything about the nightmare had proved Ultron's words right. And that scared Steve. It was as if nothing could make him retire from war, but at the same time, war followed him, haunting him, everywhere he went. He had only been to two PTSD sessions in his life. The tail-end of Sam's session in DC before the fall of SHIELD and one that Bethany had made him go to at SHIELD, but even then, he refused to believe that he needed help, that the countless times he woke up in the middle of the night, plagued with nightmares, were natural. But after what he had just seen, Bethany probably had a point.
She had died. Right in front of him. He couldn't stop thinking about that. But what was even worse was that she had already been dead during that entire nightmare. Her eyes were empty, her soul dark. She was only living on with hopes of change, but he didn't give it to her. Reaching out, Steve took her hand in his, needing to touch her in some way. Anyway.
After a moment, she looked down at their intertwined hands, as if confused by his touch. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she gave him a tentative squeeze, but never looked at him. For that, he was grateful. That empty look in her eyes… he couldn't see it again.
Closing his eyes and swallowing deeply, Steve thought back to that little girl with the curly blonde hair and green eyes in the flowered dress. He had seen her before, in a dream. Everything about that dream had been perfect and whenever he thought back to it, Steve couldn't help but smile. But now, realizing that the little girl was his past and not his future broke his heart. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry at Bethany for what she had done all those years ago. Steve was accepting his nightmare as fact now. If Bethany had told him about the baby, he would have insisted that they would get married and that she returned home. History could have been different. What if he couldn't stop Red Skull as soon? What if his time off was spent at home, making love to her, filling her with passion and hope only to return to the war time and time again? They had three children in that dream. He hadn't left her once, but three times.
And he knew he would have. Even if Steve was actually given a choice, he would have. And Steve was almost sure that he would continue to. This nightmare wouldn't change anything because it showed Steve exactly who he was. He wouldn't make Bethany blind promises anymore. She needed to know the truth, and hopefully that would protect her from becoming that shell of a woman he had seen. Maybe if he told her and they found a way to make both their wishes work, they could actually be happy. Their relationship could thrive.
But how was that possible when he needed a cause to fight for in order to be happy and she just wanted their family to be enough? He could lose her. He could lose Jamie. He could lose himself.
"The news is loving you guys," Maria's voice filled the quinjet. "Nobody else is. There's been no official call for Banner's arrest, but it's in the air."
"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony asked, all of them knowing that the battle between the Hulk and a Hulk-sized Iron Man would have left billions of dollars worth of destruction and more importantly, injured or even killed innocent citizens.
"Already on the scene. How's the team?" Maria continued. Steve could hear her words, but very little was actually filtering through his brain. He just kept thinking about the eerily perfect house, the kids, Bethany and his team outside calling him back to a war that was supposed to be over.
Bucky had been there. He had been alive, calling to Steve. He looked over to the profile of Bethany's face, studying her long lashes, thick lips and perfect nose that was decorated with little pale freckles. Another question came to mind that made his heart clench. If Bethany and Bucky were both calling to him at the same time, asking for help, who would he turn to? His best friend or his wife?
Maria and Tony continued to talk about Ultron and the news, but Steve had never felt his heart take a beating quite like this. It was like a little million heartbreaks attacking him at full force. But there was one thing that Maria said that drew his attention and he could almost hear Bethany's heart shatter.
"Let the Rogers' know that everyone here is safe. And that… Jamie said his first word."
Jamie knew that something was wrong. For starters, he was in a strange place that was cleverly disguised with toys to make him believe that it was his room, but there was something in particular that was missing that Jamie really wanted to see. He didn't know what the word was, but what he really wanted was his picture wall. Whenever he woke up before his parents or Jackson would scoop him into their arms, he would take comfort in the familiar faces of the people he saw on a daily basis, and some faces he hadn't ever seen in public but had made her happy.
She called herself 'momma'. Sometimes she would say 'mommy' instead. He called her 'Beth' and 'Doll'. But he heard 'momma' the most, so that's what he called her. In his head. Jamie wasn't sure what to call him. Momma said 'Steve' a lot. Sometimes 'Daddy'. But everyone else called him 'Cap' or 'Rogers'. Jamie just thought about his face and how he made the baby feel. The goofy smile he would give Jamie when he was trying to cheer him up.
There was a picture of them set up just outside his confinement, and he wanted to hold it. He wanted to touch Momma's face and kiss her. Even if it wasn't actually her and he wouldn't get to hear her bright laugh, he wanted to feel her face. He loved her smile. It was so warm and relaxing. And her voice… her voice had the ability to make him feel like he was safe.
But they were both gone. Momma had looked upset when she left him last, and he couldn't help but feel very sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. It meant that she didn't have that warm and relaxing smile on her face.
Looking up to the man who took care of him when Momma wasn't there, he tried to express his want for the picture. Or for Momma or the guy with the goofy smile. He didn't know a lot, but he knew that those two people were important in his life. They took care of him, kissed him, played with him, fed him. He was the happiest when both of them were there. He didn't know what the word 'love' meant, but he understood the feeling.
"What is it, Jamie?" The man asked, leaning down to pick him up. Jamie was placed on the man's lap, quickly turning his head towards the photo, reaching his hand towards it, making sounds of discontent.
His whines were answered as the photo was handed to him by the little blond boy who liked to play with him. "Do you miss your Momma and Daddy, Jamie?" The kid asked him.
Jamie took the photo, holding it tightly. Momma's eyes were tired, like how she looked in the morning and at night, but she looked very happy. Daddy, using the word that the kid used, also looked very happy, a huge smile on his face. Jamie touched their faces, in dismay that they were cold and flat, not warm and round like when they were with him.
"What is it?" A blonde woman asked him. She looked a little bit like his Momma. She had a nice warm smile and a comforting voice, but she never touched him.
Jamie touched the photo aggressively, trying to stress that he wanted them. He missed them. They hadn't been gone that long, but he needed them. And he needed everyone around him to know what he needed. Looking to each of them, wet streaks falling down his face, he thought about her. Momma, momma, momma, momma.
Except the last one wasn't to himself. Surprising them all, the word slipped from his lips and mixed along with his cries. "Momma," he continued after the word came out once. "Momma, momma, momma!" Jamie expressed, his cries intensifying as he looked down at her face, feeling the cold and flat surface, wanting her warm arms around him, her soft voice and her comforting smile.
**A/N: How are everyone's feels? I hope you realize that Bethany's vision is very plausible. Steve doesn't abandon his family in the possible future, but he works. It's his biggest fault. Also, yes. I did a Jamie POV. I felt like it was important to get a glimpse from his point of view.
Also, yeah... His first word was 'momma'. But that carries a lot of emotional repercussions.
IrelandLover: Those are all very amazing ideas! I went with something a little more tame, the fear she has for the future opposed to the past. With Natasha and Steve, you can tell that their pasts affect them more than the other characters, which makes sense why they saw their pasts/a version of what could have been. But I've been trying to seal Bethany's worry of the past up. Which leaves the future. She's constantly thinking about her future. In the present, her nightmare is losing a family member or friend, especially Steve or Jamie. But her vision goes beyond losing them. Her vision surrounds Jamie and Steve, her two boys, and the relationship she wants for them not being there while also having to fear about Steve never retiring like she wants desperately. She got her second chance, and it was basically wasted. And ironically, the fear of Jamie never getting a normal life frightens her more than him not getting to live his life like the way she never got to.
anonymouscsifan: It definitely will! Even when he feels like he's got it out of his system, it'll come back to him. It's going to help build the bridge between this story and Civil War.
FeliciaFelicis: She did have a vision too! I wanted Steve and Bethany's visions to be similar, but with two completely different tones and settings. Don't worry about it! I know that I was super busy that week, and if these chapters weren't written weeks in advanced, nothing would have been posted in the last couple weeks.
