These are the Hands of Fate - Steve Rogers x OC

Eleven: Bridges Burn, I Never Learn

May 4, 2021

"Maybe we should go back home." Maggie stared through the windshield at the sea of uniform, granite stones in the field before them, her hand gripping Steve's on the center console as if it was a life preserver. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her other hand clutched the small bouquet on her lap tightly, bending the fragile green stems that had been wrapped in brown craft paper and tied with a neat bow. The perfume from the ruffly, baby pink peonies that filled the car was almost nauseating as her mind and emotions went to war.

"If that's what you want, we can." He agreed evenly, his concerned gaze trained on the woman who sat paralyzed in the passenger seat.

---

That morning, he'd awoken to an empty bed—their empty bed, ever since he'd moved into her room. He'd been pulled from his dreams by a clattering in the kitchen where he'd found an almost manic Maggie as she whisked a bunch of eggs in one of the large, glass mixing bowls that usually went untouched without her presence.

She'd taken the day off from work; her mind wouldn't have been of any use to anyone. She knew that she never functioned well on the anniversary, anyway.

"What are you doing up?" Her eyes had met his, her brows drawn together as she continued about the kitchen, pouring the egg mixture into the pie crust that she'd already stuffed with cheese and a variety of vegetables that she'd found in the fridge. "You weren't supposed to be up for an hour. I was going to surprise you."

"Me? What are you doing up?" His eyes were still blurry with sleep as they adjusted to the dim kitchen whose lights lit her from behind, basking his busy girlfriend in a warm yellow glow as she carefully slid the newly filled pie tin into the oven. Afraid to push her too far, Steve's voice was quiet as he gently added, "It's only half past five, sweetheart."

"Couldn't sleep." Maggie muttered brusquely, avoiding his concerned gaze as she padded across the cold tile floor to pour her third cup of coffee for the morning. Concentrating carefully, she tipped in the creamer and watched as the white mixed with the deep brown, forming cloud shapes that drifted down through the glass. Using just enough to transform the dark liquid to a shade of light beige, sweetened with cinnamon and vanilla, she mixed it with the straw that had remained in the glass since she'd poured her first one nearly half an hour earlier.

The routine she'd adopted each morning was soothing. The routine kept her from breaking down into a puddle of tears on the kitchen floor...again.

"Because it's..." He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his jaw and beard, smoothing the hairs that has gotten mussed from sleep as his eyes tracked her across the room. The black robe she'd slipped on over her pajamas to cure the morning's chill hung off her frame as she savored the sip, praying for the caffeine to seep into her bones and spread through her veins to allow her to feel anything aside from the punishing exhaustion that seemed to wrack her.

So much had changed in the past nine years. Maggie felt like a completely different person than the one who'd returned home after her exam, almost unrecognizable. She'd entered a whole new decade of her life; thirty had seemingly come out of nowhere. She'd changed degree programs and received a second one. She'd fallen in love and met new friends and finally found her place in the world but her late parents been unable to see any of it.

"Yeah." Maggie confirmed, nodding absently. Her gaze was unfocused, somewhere far away as she got lost in her head. When she woke that morning, it wasn't purely because she was unable to sleep. Dreams had filled her head; ones where they hadn't gone into the office that morning and she had gone to medical school and completed her training, where she'd met and fallen in love with some faceless man, and she'd lived the life that she'd always envisioned as a child.