REQUIEM | Avengers

XI.

- XI - 

There were so many things Steve had never done. So many years of his life had been spent either too poor to be frivolous, trapped in ice, or fighting aliens and robots. So, among too many other things, he had never learned how to garden. 

By the lake on the back of the property, Nina had dug up a large garden- six plots, each large squares ten feet wide and long. Once, it had been filled with wildflowers and plants bursting with the end of the summer's harvest. Now, though, the vines were dead and grey, littering the soil in a misshapen tangle of disuse. A year ago, Nina would never have let it look like this. Her training had given her a talent for organization and perfection that she hadn't been able to shake even in all her time away from the Red Room. Her garden was no exception to this. 

She had refused to live at the compound. Much like him, staying there felt a lot like losing a piece of that much savoured freedom; but the journey was short enough that whenever she came to train, she stayed for the rest of the day to tend to her garden. At first, he had stayed far out of her way. He knew well enough what it was like to need your own space- to need something to distract your mind from what had happened. He had taken up photography after the battle in Sokovia, just to ease the ache in his head every once in a while. Enough had happened to the woman to occupy her mind for eternity.  

So, he had stayed away. Often, he watched from a distance as the she kneeled in the dirt planting seeds or pulling weeds. She would often wipe her face with her dirty hands, pulling back her hair without a care for the dirt that would trail through the sun-gold strands. He would watch as she turned soil and carefully watered and fertilized. She would trudge through the common room, her shirt soiled and her fingernails crusted in dirt, but her cheeks would be rosy and her lips pulled in a smile. 

One day, long before the Sokovia Accords during the long months they had spent looking for Bucky, they had been sparring in a square of soft ground outside of the compound by her small garden. Between jabs she said, 

"You know, you could join me in the garden one day."

She aimed a kick at his head that only his superhuman speed could save him from. He dodged, grabbing her ankle and flipping her onto the mat. She rolled away as if it was as easy as breathing. She smelled like fresh soil and warm skin. 

"Instead of staring at me from the window."

He had known she could see him. There was no getting passed her, and he had known it. Still, it hadn't stopped him. 

"I've never gardened before."

And you look so peaceful, he wanted to say. He would never take that away from her. 

He punched out at her and she dipped low, attempting to kick his legs from under him, but he jumped, swiftly escaping her manoeuvre. She wasn't done yet though, flipping back up to standing and kicking out once again. This time, he rolled away too slowly, and her foot caught him in the gut. It was hard enough to wind him, but soft enough that he knew she was holding back. 

"It's nice," she said quietly, blocking his jab with her forearm. It had to have hurt, but she didn't so much as flinch. "It's...quiet. I think you'd like it."

He moved to grab her, but she flipped over him, using his back like a table and rolling to the other side of him. Her feet were silent, but he shifted his weight and caught her next kick, yanking harder this time to pull her down to the ground. But as he did, she grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him down with her. The two of them thudded down onto the grass, their chests heaving and the shirts sticking to them in a layer of sweat.