The Soldier and His Girl. (Steve Rogers Love Story)

Chapter Forty-two: Shattered Shields

The silence on the ship was suffocating, an oppressive weight that settled on my chest and made it hard to breathe. The hum of the engines and the soft beeps of the controls were drowned out by the roaring in my ears, the anger and grief that pounded like a drumbeat inside my head. I could feel the others around me, their presence heavy with the same sense of defeat that clawed at my insides. But I couldn't look at them. I couldn't bear to see the same shattered hope reflected in their eyes.

Emily, Sarah, James... they were gone. The stones were destroyed, obliterated into nothingness. Every chance we had to bring them back was gone, and there was nothing we could do about it. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under me, and all that was left was a yawning chasm of rage and despair.

My hands clenched into fists, the leather of my gloves creaking under the strain. The pain was a welcome distraction, something tangible to hold on to amidst the chaos in my mind. I kept seeing Thanos's face, the smug satisfaction in his eyes as he told us what he had done. The bastard had taken everything from me, and he had died with that same self-righteous certainty that he had won.

I should have felt some kind of satisfaction when Thor took his head, some sense of justice. But there was nothing. It was meaningless. Killing him hadn't brought them back. It hadn't changed a damn thing.

The ship lurched as it entered the atmosphere, and I barely registered it. My eyes were locked on the barren landscape outside the viewport, a reflection of the desolation that had taken root inside me. I could hear the others moving, preparing to disembark, but I stayed seated, my knuckles white as I gripped the armrests.

I had promised Emily I would protect her, that I would keep our family safe. And I failed. I failed them all. Now they were gone, ripped away from me by a madman's twisted sense of destiny, and I was still here, left to pick up the pieces of a life that no longer existed.

Natasha walked over, her footsteps slow and hesitant. I could see the pain in her eyes, the same pain I felt, but she was holding it together, trying to be the strong one. I didn't want her pity. I didn't want anyone's pity.

"Steve," she said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. The touch was meant to be comforting, but it only stoked the fire of my anger. It reminded me of what I'd lost, what I'd failed to protect.

"We need to head back," she continued, her voice gentle, like she was speaking to a wounded animal. I wasn't wounded. I was furious. I was ready to tear the universe apart to get them back, but the universe had already taken everything from me.

I nodded, but I didn't trust myself to speak. I could feel the eyes of the others on me, waiting for me to lead, to give them some kind of direction. But what the hell was I supposed to say? The man who had stood against Thanos, who had believed we could win, that man was dead. All that was left was a shell, hollowed out by the loss of everything that mattered.

I forced myself to stand, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. Every movement was mechanical, driven by the only thing I had left—anger. I followed the others off the ship, the cold air of the planet hitting me like a slap in the face. It felt like a punishment, like the universe was mocking us for ever thinking we could set things right.

We gathered in a loose circle, the desolate landscape stretching out around us. I could see the grief in their eyes, the exhaustion, the hopelessness. We were supposed to be the ones who could face anything and come out on top. But this had broken us in ways that no enemy ever could.

Thor was standing a little ways off, staring at the spot where Thanos's head had rolled into the dirt. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes vacant. He looked as lost as I felt. We all were.

"What now?" Bruce's voice broke the silence, the question hanging in the air like a lead weight. It was a question none of us had an answer to.

I stared at the ground, feeling the crushing weight of the question settle on my shoulders. What now? The words echoed in my mind, mocking me. I had no answer. I had no plan. All I had was the smoldering rage where my family used to be.

I looked up, my eyes scanning the faces of the people I had fought beside for so long. They were waiting for me to say something, to give them some kind of direction. But I had nothing left to give. The man who had believed in fighting for a better future had been replaced by someone who didn't care about the future anymore. Because my future had been destroyed.

"Steve?" Nat's voice was gentle, her eyes searching mine for some sign that I was still the man I used to be. But I wasn't. Not anymore.

"We... we go home," I finally managed to say, the words coming out in a hoarse whisper. But even as I said them, I knew that "home" was a lie. The place I called home had been destroyed the moment Emily and the kids were taken from me. The Compound, New York, anywhere that used to feel like home—they were just empty buildings now, filled with memories that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Nat nodded slowly, her expression softening with understanding. She knew what I was feeling, because she felt it too. We all did.

The journey back to Earth was a blur, my mind a whirlwind of anger and grief. The weight of what had happened pressed down on me, making every moment feel like I was dragging myself through quicksand. I sat in the same seat, staring blankly at the metal walls of the ship, my mind replaying every memory of Emily, Sarah, and James. Their smiles, their laughter, the way they had made every day worth living.

I kept seeing Emily's face, the way her eyes would light up when she looked at me, the way Sarah's small hands would reach for me when she was scared. And James... God, James's laugh, so pure and innocent, echoed in my mind like a ghost that wouldn't leave.

When we finally landed, the weight of reality came crashing down on me all over again. The Compound was the same as we had left it, but everything had changed. I stepped off the ship, my movements slow and heavy. I could feel the eyes of the others on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at them. I didn't want them to see the fury simmering beneath the surface, the anger that was barely held in check.

I walked through the familiar halls, each step feeling like a lead weight pulling me down. The rooms that had once been filled with the sounds of life and laughter were now empty, echoing with the memories of what had been lost.

I found myself standing in the room that Emily and I had shared, our bed still made, the photos of our family still on the dresser. I reached out, my hand trembling as I picked up a picture of the four of us—Emily, Sarah, James, and me. We were all smiling, happy, blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming.

The picture frame slipped from my fingers, shattering as it hit the floor. I stared at the broken glass, the image distorted by the cracks. It felt like a cruel metaphor for my life—shattered beyond repair.

Rage surged through me, hot and blinding. I swept the rest of the photos off the dresser with a furious motion, sending them crashing to the floor. The sound of glass breaking echoed in the room, but it did nothing to ease the anger that burned inside me.

I sank to my knees, the fury giving way to a tidal wave of grief that threatened to drown me. The tears came, hot and uncontrollable, as I let out a guttural, broken cry. I was alone. The people I loved more than anything in the world were gone, and I had no way to bring them back.

I had failed them.

I stayed there, on the floor of our room, surrounded by the pieces of the life I had lost. The sobs wracked my body, the pain so intense it felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside out. I had faced enemies, fought battles that seemed impossible, but nothing could have prepared me for this. The emptiness, the despair, the feeling of being utterly and completely alone.

But more than that, there was anger. A seething, unrelenting anger at the universe, at Thanos, at myself for not being able to save them. The world had moved on, but I was stuck, trapped in the pain and the rage of a moment that would never end. And I didn't know if I would ever be able to find my way out.