*** Enjoy! I OWN NOTHING – except Hannah and Alex ***
"Hannah, oh my god," Steve murmured, stepping into the room. His eyes darted from her face so quickly that she hardly got to meet his eyes. His gaze locked onto the bruising that covered her like a large paint splatter. She couldn't think of a thing to say. Any pre-rehearsed speeches that she gone over in the shower flew from her head. She just stared at him, wide eyed and with her mouth hanging open slightly. He looked good, beat to hell, but good. He was dressed simply, a t-shirt, jeans, and his hair was shorter than she remembered – a far more time-appropriate style. She was struck with a sudden desire to run her fingers through it, maybe scratch her nails along his scalp – I wonder if he'd still make that same noise if I did that, and then dragged my fingers down his neck and…
"Hannah!" Steve said loudly, tilting his head to get her attention, "Are you listening?" She blinked rapidly and felt her face heat. "Uh, yeah, I am, sorry," she said rapidly, feeling her cheeks and ears burn. Get a hold of yourself, you've been in front of him less than 60 seconds and you're already imagining things you shouldn't be! She scolded herself and then gave him an unsteady smile.
"What happened to you? Who did this to you?" He asked, taking a step closer, they were each standing on opposite sides of the bed now and Hannah swallowed at the intensity in his voice, the anger. She didn't thing she currently had the wits to even begin telling him about the past couple of days, at least not properly.
"A lot of people," she finally replied simply. Steve's face went through a cycle of emotions: despair, guilt, anger, and finally shame, heavy shame.
"I never knew that this would happen, that this could happen, you have to believe me," he told her earnestly, his eyes pained as he met hers. Hannah clenched her jaw and nodded stiffly. The tight movement made her neck hurt and she winced slightly, which only hurt more and she brought a hand up to her neck. She realized she was in a towel then and abruptly turned away from him.
"Oh my god!" She cried in dismay, "I'm in a towel - Steve get out!" He muttered immediate apologies and stumbled quickly out of the room, shutting the door behind himself. Hannah stood panting by the bathroom door, embarrassed, and began to paw through the pile of clothes again, swiftly selecting a t-shirt and jeans, cramming herself into them as quickly as she could. She took the wet towel from her hair, and ran her fingers through the sodden strands before deciding to just leave them loose – the idea of brushing her hair right now made her feel stressed out.
"You can come in again," she called to the door, and Steve slowly pushed it open, sticking his head in first cautiously, as if it might be a trick. She sat on the bed and gestured at a chair just past the playpen. "Please have a seat," she told him, and he dropped down into it quickly. "Hannah," he began again, staring down at his hands for a moment before looking up at her, "A lot has happened in the past week, I can't go into all of it, but please believe me when I say that I never once thought this might happen to you – that you'd get dragged into it." He bounced to his feet, apparently unable to sit still, and he began to pace.
"I should've set something up for you years ago – a safety net, a back-up plan, something – I had all of SHIELD at my disposal and I let this happen," he said despondently.
"Steve," she cut him off, the strength in her own voice surprising her, "How could you have known? Besides, SHIELD fell, that's where this all started – if you had me wrapped up in SHIELD beforehand, then those Hydra bastards would've found us a lot sooner."
He stared at her, looking like he didn't believe her. "I hate SHIELD," she told him, "But, Steve, I don't hate you, I don't blame you – I… don't regret you." He looked surprised and then charmingly befuddled as the slightest flush crossed his cheekbones again. Hannah stared at him, at the blush she had once found so utterly fascinating on him, and wished things could be as simple as they were a couple years ago.
"I've thought about you a lot," he told her haltingly, moving to sit back down in the chair again. He tilted his head and looked over at her, a small somewhat tentative smile on his face, "Don't suppose you've thought much about me?" Hannah couldn't keep her laugh from escaping. She had thought about Steve every single day, every single time she looked at her son. She thought about Steve constantly whether she wanted to or not – she was hostage to her memories of him. Hannah started to laugh harder, pressing her hands into her face as she laughed, growing almost hysterical.
"Oh my god! You have no idea!" She laughed even harder and then realized she was crying, "No idea!" She was crying hard now, and after a moment the bed dipped heavily as he sat down next to her and pulled her into his side, into a hug. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head as she hysterically laugh-cried into her hands.
"I missed you, too," he told her quietly. Hannah suddenly jerked away from him, climbing to her feet and stumbling a step back, into the playpen. She steadied herself and stared at him in disbelief. "Jesus Christ, Steve – you think I'm coming on to you? That I want to get back together, like right now?" She was nearly yelling, "I almost died like 3 or 4 times in the past couple of days, my son was almost taken from me!" She pointed a finger at him and swallowed hard.
"You think I thought about you romantically? Holy shit…" She turned away and gripped the playpen in both hands, her fingers wrapping around the top edge of it, tightly. The room was perfectly silent. Breathe, she could hear James in her head, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Hannah clenched the playpen in her hands and obeyed James' instructions.
"You have a son?" Steve asked quietly, after a moment of silence, and Hannah flinched. Oh shit, I didn't mean to say that, I lost my cool, oh shit. "Yes," she replied in a near whisper, not turning around, knowing if he saw her face right now he'd immediately know the truth.
"It's only been two years, he must be a baby… you were running with a baby? Oh god, I'm sorry, Hannah, your baby, I – I didn't know…" Steve began, the guilt so heavy in his tone that his voice was nearly cracking. This was it, the moment to tell him, the perfect segue to reveal the truth... but she didn't say anything, she didn't know how to tell him. Thankfully, downstairs, she could hear the Barton's come in the door, and knew that Alex would be with them. Ok, here we go, breathe in and out, turn around, and go downstairs, that buys you a couple of minutes.
"Stay here," she said, turning suddenly and pointing at him. He nodded warily, but didn't move. Hannah left the room and marched down the stairs. Laura was standing in the living room, holding Alex and had heard her coming. "He's here," Laura said quietly, handing over Alex. Hannah nodded and replied, "I know."
She glanced past Laura to Clint, who was sitting in the kitchen. He gave her a tight-lipped look, and nodded at her once, as if to say good luck.
"Mama, kitty?" Alex asked her, pulling at her hair lightly as she trudged back up the stairs. She showered his face with kisses and he giggled. His presence made this easier and yet somehow infinitely more difficult; as always, Alex was a constant reminder of the truth, of the enormous secret she had tried so hard to keep.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside the room. Steve was sitting on the bed, right where she'd left him, staring down at the floor, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands gripping one another. He turned to look up at her when he heard them enter, an expectant smile on his face as he seemed to have anticipated that she'd be bringing the baby upstairs. To his credit, Hannah noted that he seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of meeting her child.
His smile froze the second he locked his eyes on Alex's face. Steve's breath halted in a soft choking noise, and his face went through a rapid series of shocked expressions, before settling on completely and totally dumbfounded. Alex for his part seemed relatively calm with this new stranger sitting on the bed. Hannah was happy for the familiar weight of her boy in her arms, and one hand stroked the back of his sunny curls as she eyed Steve carefully.
"Kitty, Mama?" Alex asked again, pressing his nose against her face before turning back to regard Steve, who was still sitting stunned. Hannah knew that Steve saw the truth, saw the age of the boy and knew. Saw the boy himself and just knew.
"This is Alex," she said softly, taking one step towards Steve and stopping when Steve leapt to his feet and backed away from her, to the other side of the bed. He moved quickly, like he couldn't handle the truth being so close to his face.
"Steve…" she said a moment later, as Alex began to squirm restlessly in her arms. She grabbed a pacifier and a toy of his and plopped him down on the bed. It was almost time for him to nap, so after casting one slightly wary look over at Steve, and deciding that the strange man wasn't a threat, Alex lay on his side on the bed and began to lazily poke at his toy, the soother plugged into his mouth.
"Steve?" She tried again, after an awkward couple of minutes of silence and baby-watching had passed. He hadn't moved since retreating away, he only stared at Alex, completely in shock.
"He's… he's…" Steve finally spoke, saying the word so quietly it was almost impossible to hear him, not looking away from Alex. By now the baby had fallen asleep. Hannah smiled gently at her son as she bent to take the toy from his limp little hand. She brushed a kiss to the side of his head and stood up, bending her head to look in Steve's eyes.
"He's yours, Steve," she told him carefully, quietly, "This is Alex, your son." She thought that any other man would likely have fainted or fled at this point, so great was Steve's shock, but his super-stamina, or something, kept him there and on his feet, though he swayed slightly.
Steve looked at her and then down at Alex and then sat on the far edge of the bed gently, taking care not to disturb Alex's slumber. Hannah felt her heart clench briefly at that - that Steve was taking such care despite the fact that his mind was likely either completely blank or absolutely racing.
He was staring at his son, who was laying on his side, facing Steve, soother half in his mouth, curls brushing his neck and forehead, his little cheeks still ruddy from being outdoors – to Hannah, her son looked beautiful, like a little angel. Steve stared at him like he was a confusing puzzle and not a baby. Tentatively, he reached one large hand out and just lightly touched Alex's foot with the tips of his fingers, almost as if to test if Alex was real, before resting his hand on top of Alex's foot softly. Steve's eyebrows began to lift slightly, and his facial muscles loosened a bit as well.
She let out a breath when some of the color started to return to his face. He began to breathe normally, and so did Hannah. Ok, good, so he didn't have a heart attack, thank god. She was waiting for a smile, a nod, a word of pleasure, anything beyond just resting his hand on Alex's foot. Oh crap, what if he's pissed? What if he never wanted kids and I've just dropped a toddler in his lap. He's Captain America, he should love kids, right? But he's also just a guy, maybe he hates them. Hannah couldn't stop arguing with herself as she watched Steve watch Alex, not removing his hand.
"How could you?" Steve finally murmured quietly, his voice deeply unhappy.
"Excuse me?" She blurted, shocked that those words, those, were the first phrase he had uttered about his newfound fatherhood. Steve didn't lift his head, wouldn't look at her, only gave Alex's foot a soft, gentle squeeze before pulling his hand back. He got to his own feet in one quick, fluid movement and strode away from the bed, to the window. He stared through the gauzy curtains, and Hannah felt dread tightening in her chest. Anything that comes is understandable, be prepared, she tried to warn herself.
"How could you keep him from me?" Steve spoke again, his voice low, still respecting Alex's slumber, despite his obvious distress. Hannah felt her own posture tightening anxiously at the tense set of Steve shoulders and back; they were stiff and unyielding, and mostly, unwelcoming.
"All this time, Hannah, all this time, and you couldn't tell me?" He spoke with such complete hurt and borderline dislike in his voice that Hannah felt her stomach roll slightly. She didn't know how best to respond, because he had a point, she could see that now, obviously, with the hindsight that the past few days had provided her.
"You couldn't tell me?" He said a little more loudly, turning around now to face her. His brows were drawn together and she immediately absorbed the emotion rolling off of him in waves: disappointment, anger, hurt, betrayal. "I would have been there for you, for both of you," he shot at her quietly, his voice growing more and more icy, "I would have done anything for the two of you, anything to keep you safe. This is my son, Hannah, and you couldn't be bothered to tell me?"
She rose to her feet and took a step towards him, opening her mouth to respond but his brows locked down together, real anger rippling over his typically good-natured face. "Save it," he told her brusquely, and then charged past her, opening the door and shutting it softly behind himself. Hannah bit her lip, hard, and could feel the tightness in her chest getting more and more intense, adding a pressure to her eyes, where it felt like a waterfall was waiting to unleash itself.
Part of her was fully aware that she needed to go after him. She needed to explain, as best as she could. She needed to apologize for his lost time with Alex. Apologize for hurting him. She had to tell him that she never did any of it to hurt him. Everything, every last ounce of herself from the moment the pee stick showed a pink plus sign, had been for Alex.
Instead she sank back down onto the bed in exhaustion, lowering herself slowly to lay next to Alex's warm little body, curling herself around him again, inhaling the scent of the fresh air and sunshine on his skin. She cupped a hand over his forehead and began running her fingers through his mussy hair.
She jumped about a foot when she heard yelling outside and glanced quickly down at Alex to see if she'd woken him up. He shifted slightly but continued to sleep, and Hannah slid off the bed and moved towards the window. Steve was pacing angrily back and forth near where the vehicles were parked, his hands on his hips.
"You couldn't tell me!? How much more don't I know? How many secrets are there? What is it with people and their secrets? How could you not tell me?" Steve was yelling, and Hannah pressed her lips together, thinking, for one moment, that he was actually yelling at her. She realized he wasn't when Clint responded.
"I only just found out myself, Cap," Clint's tone was reasonable, "You've been here now, you know my secret; can you honestly say you think I was keeping your kid from you?" Steve stopped pacing and whipped his head up to glare over at Clint, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, running his hands through his hair.
"How long have you known?" He snapped at Clint.
"A few days, but not for sure until I actually saw him," Clint responded calmly.
"A couple days? Why didn't you pick the phone up right away? I should have been told right away! Obviously Sam knew, why didn't he say anything? Does Natasha know? Does everyone?" Steve sounded like he was walking the edge between anger and hurt right now, and Hannah was praying he landed somewhere sane.
"Look, you and Nat fell off the face of the goddamn earth, how was I supposed to contact you, Steve? I had no idea what the hell was going on, none of us did – the rest of us all reached out to each other when the shit hit the fan at SHIELD, but you never checked in. Nat never checked in – we were beginning to wonder if you were dead, and then all of a sudden this girl is phoning me, begging me to help her – that falls on you, Cap, you and her, not me," Clint was still maintaining a sense of calm, but he was indignant, and obviously feeling slightly defensive.
Clint pointed a hand back at the house and Hannah backed away from the window, in case either of them looked up; she didn't want them to know that she was eavesdropping.
"She's done most of this on her own, had some help at the beginning from someone else, she says, which is a whole separate, weird conversation you two get to have later - but she made it to a meeting place, managed not to get herself and your kid killed – and we're talking Hydra, Steve, that's no easy feat. Cut her a goddamn break, will you? Can you even imagine?" Clint's voice got louder and Hannah risked a peek out the window, to see he had stepped up even closer to Steve, and was pointing a finger at him.
"I can imagine, Steve, I've been there, that's why this house exists, why I have this secret of my own – I know exactly what she was worried about, why she was scared, except that she was alone – she had no Fury to help, no Nat on her side, she was alone," Clint's voice was earnest, but bordering on angry himself now, "Of course she kept that kid a secret! She hardly knew you – she only knew that SHIELD owned you, and that the suit, the title, owned you; she had no way to know that you would, or could, try to help."
Hannah peeked through the corner of the window, watching as Clint turned his back on Steve and walked away. She heard his voice one more time, from beneath the porch roof below her window; Clint had stopped in the doorway of his house to say one more thing,
"If you want a chance to know your son Steve, you need to get over it, and make it work, before they disappear for good."