Fate's Web

September 26, 2013

"I see the world nearly ended without me here."

I laced my fingers behind my back, the smooth leather of my gloves holding my hands in place. My arm very narrowly missed Captain Rogers as I slotted myself next to him on the top balcony of Stark Tower.

He didn't turn towards me. His shoulders faced straight ahead, stoic and tense. "There were a lot of fires to put out," he said.

"Seems like they're out," I replied. The sun was long since set. Below us, New York City twinkled and buzzed with life.

Rogers let go of a sigh, and his head dipped slightly. "Did you get the rundown?" There was exhaustion in his voice, deep and rough.

"Not yet," I said. "I just got here. I didn't pass anyone on my way in."

He hummed, head turning back towards the horizon as he rested his forearms on the railing and leaned forward. "SHIELD's compromised," he said with a voice hardly more than a whisper, as if this were some secret just for us to share. "Fury is underground now."

The knowledge melted through me. The once prestigious, powerful SHIELD with their flying cities and weapons of the future wasn't the friendly force they claimed to be. Shocker. I had my opinions regarding the organization etched in stone when Fury had lied to us the first time. When we discovered the tesseract was meant to make more weapons of mass destruction because of "things like them." Them being Thor, Loki, and I.

Regardless, Fury was a respectable man. Intelligent and good at his job, I trusted him to handle our affairs. To not make a mess of things.

"Underground as in still an ally or underground as in hiding?" I asked.

"Both."

"How did that happen?"

Rogers chuckled and shook his head again. "HYDRA grew right under Fury's nose, used my childhood best friend as a brainwashed assassin, and tried to take out millions of 'potential threats' as they put it."

"And Hydra is the organization you fought during your war?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

I dropped my gaze to Rogers, his eyes boring through mine. Deep blue, the ocean swallowing ships whole. "I'm sorry about your friend," I said quietly.

Rogers looked away from me.

"You told me about him before."

"What did I tell you?"

Rogers's voice dripped with an innocence I hadn't heard come from him before. Like a child asking to hear another bedtime story. Warmth blossomed in my chest— also unfamiliar to me.

I leaned closer to the railing for some sense of stability, one of my hands creeping from around my back to grip the metal. Rogers was warm and solid beside me, but he felt smaller somehow. Less Captain Rogers. More Steven.

This had become strangely intimate, and the openness— the vulnerability that hung in the air made me wildly uncomfortable. Yet, I felt as if Steve needed to hear a retelling of his own stories. Something to cling to. Something wasn't right.

He would tell me with time.

"You grew up together in Brooklyn," I began. "Went to school together, his family offered to help you after your mother passed, you stayed close despite your need for independence and reluctance to accept help. You tried to join the military, but you were rejected due to your poor health. Your friend— Bucky joined, and you were later recruited into an experimental program which made you into the person you are today.