Chapter 22: Phantasms of Past Songs

AN: this is a very somber chapter, dealing mostly with the aftermath of what happened and what Steven really did. It's an in between chapter, before the interrogation, because there will be one, that deals with Steven's semi-relief and his long held grief.

Well that all I can give really. Oh, there will be songs here, so you might want YouTube open.

Onto the fic

"All teams enter on my mark," Steve said as he and the STRIKE team took their perspective entries. He held up his hand and gestured with two fingers, "go!" With the speed and efficiency born of multiple missions, the squad entered the room within seconds and made note of the target. Steve quickly moved forward, shield up and cautious.

"I have eyes on target, "Rumlow said, "I have a shot."

"Stand down, Rumlow," Steve ordered, slowly sidewinding around to get a better view of Stevan. "Under no circumstances are any of you to open fire."

"Cap," Rumlow protested, quietly over his earpiece.

"No, Rumlow," Steve said, "With his training and enhancements, he could perceive us as a threat right now, in his frame of mind." Steve finally got the Knight in his line of sight and found him kneeling on the floor, catatonic; tears streaming down his face. "He trained several agents of the Red Room. Heck, he might have even had a hand in training Romanoff. Do you really want to test those skills right now? You really want to test the skills of someone who trained Romanoff?" Steve caught a reluctant head shake from the man, "Thought not." Steve said with a silent huff of wry laughter, and turned his attention to slowly moving towards the Knight.

Steve slowly and cautiously approached, silently taking in the gore and viscera that coated the man's clothes.

"Stevan," Steve said softly. The man in front of him didn't respond, and as Steve inched closer he could see that Stevan was completely catatonic, staring off into nothing. Steve swallowed hard around the nervous lump in his throat. He had seen that thousand hard stare on many a man during the War; men that had seen too much and finally shut down. Finally Steve managed to get in front of the man and slowly and cautiously knelt down before him. Steve nervously wet his lips as he bent down to get himself in Stevan's eye line. "Stevan," Steve said again, softly as if talking to a scared animal, or a child. "Can you hear me," Steve asked trying to catch the man's gaze. The knife he used on Eukeriovich was still clutched tightly his hand, and Steve could see the slight tremor running through it. Steve noted it for a second then looked back when the silhouette caught in his mind. A closer inspection revealed it to be an Army issued Riffle Bayonet from the War. Steve's brow furrowed in confusion as he filed that information away before focusing on the man before him.

"Stevan," Steve said softer now, "put down the knife." Steve gently reached out to touch the man's arm, withdrawing slightly at the flinch but returning to slowly slide down the arm to lie over the shaking hand clutching the bloodied knife. "Stevan," he said, "it's over. Put it down," Steve coaxed. "You can put it down, now." Suddenly the shaking stopped and the glazed and distant eyes cleared as he looked up and looked right at Steve. With sudden clarity Steve knew the man saw him and Steve had gotten through to him. "The War's over, Soldier; you can put it down," Steve said.

'It's over; it's finally over,' was playing on repeat in Steven's mind. That little childish voice in his head, the one he had forced into a box when he went on his first mission and left locked in that box when they dragged him into that room to give him the serum, was let out; and Steven didn't know how to stop it. 'I want Ada, I wanna go home,' it kept crying.

Suddenly Steven saw movement in his vision, and as he forced himself to focus, he saw Steve kneeling before him. There was a loud ringing in his ears at first, and distantly he recognized he was in shock, before his hearing came back slowly, hearing a gentle voice. Steven felt a hand brush his arm and he flinched, his eyes glazing over as his mind instinctively retreated, but when the touch returned calm and gentle slowly sliding down his arm to rest on this hand, Steven realized he was still holding the knife. The shaking he could now feel in his limbs stopped, and his vision cleared as he looked up and focused on Steve with crystal clarity.

"The War's over, Soldier," Steve said, gently easing the knife out of his grip, "you can put it down." Steven's grip on the knife loosened and he finally let it go, Steve taking it from him and sheathing it in his own empty thigh scabbard. It barely fit but it was no longer in his grasp and in an instant everything came crashing down like a tidal wave. His breath caught and his eyes watered, and in the moment all he could see was his Ada's dearest friend, his uncle in all but blood and he couldn't stop himself.

Steven lunged forward into Steve's arms, buried his face in his chest and began to sob. Steve froze for a moment before he wrapped his arms around him.

"It's okay," Steve whispered softly, "hush, hush, it's okay." The softness of his voice brought back so many memories, and Steve's instinctual attempt to calm him, slowly rocking him in his arms, only made the sobs worse. It didn't stop him from trying though. "It's okay; it's over," Steve whispered into Steven's hair by his ear, gently rocking him like an overwrought child. And in Steve's arms he was, and Steven fell apart in his arms, his sobs growing in volume into wails and screams as Steven buried his face into Steve's chest. It felt like a relief, like a painful festering wound had finally been lanced and the infection was draining out of him, as he let go of the anger and pain that had festered in his heart for so long; in waves of sorrow and grief. Before long the hate and despair had left him completely, leaving him just numb.

"Can you stand," Steve compassionately asked, and Steven numbly nodded. Slowly but surely Steve helped Steven up to his feet. Steven could feel the eyes of the STRIKE team on him and he shied away into Steve's side. And Steve, ever the compassionate man, pulled him further into his side, wrapping an arm around him to shield him from their judgmental gazes as he was led out slowly and quietly into the van.

The van ride back was silent in the only way being surrounded by your enemies could be. Steven could feel every bit of their hatred towards him, and Steve's quiet compassion and sense of right and wrong seemed to be the only thing keeping them in check. Steven leaned back into the side of the van, his head tipped back to rest on the side. If it weren't for the tense atmosphere Steven could trick himself into thinking that it was just another mission during the war. As he begins to reminisce, as small melancholy smile pulled at his lips, and a song slipped into his mind that he had not thought of in a very long time. Steven closed his eyes as he began to hum softly and sadly and only a moment later he opened his mouth and began to sing; softly at first, his voice thin and weak as memories ran like the tears down his face through his mind, but soon they grew in strength.

The irony is not lost on him that the tune and words that sprang into his mind were, but he allowed them to be dredged up from his mind and soul, and poured out to those around him.

"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again some sunny day," he sang soft and broken, but soon they grew in strength, "Keep smiling through, just like you always do, 'til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away!" A teary smile pulled on his lips and memories overwhelm him, unaware of how his sad singing unnerves the agents in the van. His voice grew in strength tears running down his face as good and bad memories come back to him, lending his voice an unearthly beauty. "So will you please say hello to the folks that I know, tell them I won't be long. They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go, I was singing this song: we'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again some sunny day!" when the song reached its climactic repeat where other voices were supposed to join his, the radios all crackle, turning on and the voices of his old friends, long dead, sing out of the depths of Steven's memories: Dum Dum, Morita, Jones, Dernier, Falsworth, and finally his Ada's living voice, all joining in harmony with his, overlaid with the radio static.

On Steve's part as he hears it, he remembered singing this exact song once with them, and became just as unnerved hearing the voices of the dead friends as the others. Even more unnerving is the sight of Stevan's wrecked smile as he croaks out the tune through his tears. A moment later when the song ends, Steve heard the radio crackle again to the sound of a soft but slightly tinny piano intro accompanied by a violin. Steven's smile became bitter and broken for a moment before it suddenly softened and became just as sad and pleading as before.

"There'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see." Steven sang and the voices were soft and sweet in the background, just like Steve remembered them being. "I'll never forget the people I met, braving those angry skies. I remember well, as the shadows fell, the light of hope in their eyes. And though I'm far away, I still can hear them say 'thumbs up' for when the dawn comes up," Steven sighed and his smile became so brittle it hurt to look at. "There'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see. There'll be love and laughter and peace ever after, tomorrow, when the world is free!" the softness of his voice grew and became confident and sure in its strength as he carried on; heedless of the disquiet in those around him, or maybe more uncaring than heedless. "The shepherd will tend his sheep, the valley will bloom again, and Jimmy will go to sleep in his own little room again. There'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover tomorrow, just you wait and see." The voices grew in strength and began to softly vocalize before they joined Steven in the refrain and seemingly help him finish out the song.

By the time the van had returned to the underground garage at the Triskelion, everyone inside was thoroughly unnerved by the voices on the radio of dead men singing to war ballads with their prisoner. Of all of them, though, Steve was the only one to pity the man; so broken and lost. The others, Rumlow in particular, saw a violent assassin that left a trail of blood and death in his wake, but Steve saw past that. He watched as the man placidly allowed himself to be manhandled out of the van, narrowing his eyes when he saw Rumlow tighten his grip on the man's arm to bruising.

"I'll take him, Rumlow," Steve finally said, after seeing a twitch of pain flit across Stevan's face. He laid a hand of Stevan's arm and positioned himself in such a way that he was giving no room for arguments.

"If you think so, Cap," the agent complied as he let go and backed away with his hands up and placating. Steve gave the man a curt but respectful nod and carefully led the man into the elevator. For a moment, Steve didn't know why, it felt as though he was walking in to a lion's den.

TBC…

End note: sorry this took so long, my muse hated me, and if you lived anywhere near the Midwest you'll understand why I didn't do this sooner. I had hoped to work on his before Christmas, but I had to spend that weekend with my parents because my road blew in, and they didn't plow until the next Tuesday, I think. All in all it was a rather lousy weekend and very cold. My nose hairs froze and I'm still blowing bloody snot. If you live anywhere where it gets really cold you'll know what I'm talking about.

I think the only reason I'm doing this now is because I got a new keyboard and I wanted to test my typing out on it. Works great.

This one was always going to be short so I'm not so sorry about that, because the next one is going to be an emotional juggernaut, so I'm not so sorry about the length. I didn't want to put you all through the wringer.

Ask me questions and I'll try to answer without giving things away.

Edit note: I had a very hard few months. The biggest of which was I had to put my dog to sleep last month. I was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but she was so old and she was in pain and it wasn't fair to cling to her anymore.

RIP Ginger 2006-2023

Next up: The Truth is Revealed