Coming Down ➢ Steve Rogers

five

Chapter Five;

Delaney paced the small space of her bedroom, her fingers drumming anxiously against her jean-clad leg. She frequently glanced out of the window. She knew it was late, but she was too anxious to even consider sleeping. Her body was currently on overdrive.

Her mind flicked back to the events of that night. Steve had pursued the shooter, though had been unable to apprehend him. He'd returned with a vague description: fast, strong, and a metal arm.

Before anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived, Steve insisted that Delaney leave. She was more than happy to: she wanted to remain off S.H.I.E.L.D's radar, and Fury's injury had shaken her. He was currently in a critical condition and it was unsure if he would survive.

Before she'd left, Steve embraced her quickly. "I'm sorry that I dragged you into this," he'd murmured.

"You weren't to know," Delaney had replied; her head had rested on Steve's chest. In that moment she'd forgotten everything that had just occurred – in his strong arms, she felt like she was being shielded from all the dangers of the world. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Rather, I should be thanking you... I enjoyed this afternoon."

He hadn't responded, and Delaney wondered if she imagined feeling his lips stretch up into a small smile. "I'll try keep you updated on anything that happens."

Now she was back in her apartment. She'd drawn the curtains closed instantly, and put all her knives within easy reach. Alone in her apartment, with only thin walls separating her from the world, she felt more exposed than ever. She wished someone else was with her – Natasha, Steve, Clint, anyone. Anyone to take the chill away from the air, anyone to sit with her and assure her she was safe.

Delaney sighed and collapsed on her bed, head in her hands. Her backpack was just in front of her: it was so tempting to snatch it up and flee, right then. Her survival instincts screamed at her to do so.

But she was going to stay, at least a little longer. For Steve. And for herself as well – she wanted to know what was going on. If she left now she'd be consumed by fear and worry for her friend, and for Fury. No, she would stay put, and lie low as she learned what was going on.

Delaney groaned and fell back on her pillow, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

She hadn't known what to expect when she arrived in Washington DC, but it certainly hadn't been this.

+++

The new morning dawned clear and bright; when Delaney peeked out of the window, there wasn't a cloud in sight. A good omen? She hoped so – if there was ever a time she needed a sign of good luck, it was now.

Rolling on to her side, Delaney checked her phone – she'd given Steve her number the previous night. No messages from Steve. The time on the screen told her it had just gone past eight thirty in the morning.

Delaney spent the next few hours in an agitated state. Normally she would have gone out for a run to wear off her anxiety, but she didn't want to leave in case Steve called during that time. At least she didn't have work that day, she thought – with her body shaking with excess nervous energy, she'd probably send every drink crashing to the floor.

She paced her room, and then took a long, hot shower. Still nothing. She was in the process of making herself a small lunch when her phone rang. Delaney darted next to it and saw Steve's name flash across the screen. She accepted the call without hesitation.

"Steve?"

"Delaney!" Delaney blinked at the urgency of his tone. "Are you okay?"

"I'm... fine. More than fine, actually. What about you?"

"Lane, you need to leave."

Delaney's stomach lurched. "What?" Her heart had stilled. She didn't know what was going on, but from the tone of his voice, she knew that it was nothing good.

"Grab your stuff and get out of your apartment, now."

Her backpack was right in front of her. Delaney ran around the small space of her apartment, her body trembling, gathering up the loose items she had around the place. "Steve, what's going on?" she demanded, her voice a pitch higher than usual.

"I'm on the run."

Delaney froze. "What?"

Her mind whirled. Steve, Captain America, on the run? A fugitive? It was an impossible concept. Steve was the last person you'd expect to get caught up in any sort of crime, and everyone knew it.

"S.H.I.E.L.D's hunting me," Steve explained quickly. In his hurry to get everything out, his words came out slightly jumbled together; Delaney had to listen with all her attention to understand what he was saying. "They claim I'm withholding information about Fury's death – and they know you were there, too. You're a wanted accomplice."

Delaney's blood turned cold. "Fury's dead?" she choked out.

Out of everything Steve said, that information shocked her the most. Her knees shook beneath her, threatening to give way; Delaney sank down on to her bed and held her head in her hands. Fury, dead... No. Surely not. It couldn't be true.

But he'd had three bullets tear through his chest. Those were impossible odds for anyone – even Fury. He wasn't indestructible, no matter how he might have appeared to be.

"I'm sorry, Lane," Steve said quietly. "He is."

Delaney nodded mutely. A numbness had set over her body, separating her from any type of feeling.

"So I need to go into hiding again?" she asked, as though this were the most normal of topics. "Easy. I've done that for two years -"

"Lane, they know you're in Washington. They hunting you. This isn't like before – they'll utilise everything at their disposal to find us. To find you."

Delaney licked her dry lips. "What do I do?"

"Meet me at the hospital."

"Are you crazy? That's a public place!"

"I need to retrieve something first. And I'm going to make sure you stay safe."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Steve -"

"Lane, trust me."

Delaney paused, her eyes closed. She was momentarily torn. But this time, she wasn't the only one in danger. Steve was, too. And they'd work better together, watching each other's backs.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll be there soon."

"Look after yourself, Lane."

"I promise. I'll see you in a few minutes."

The line disconnected. Delaney gazed at the now-blank screen of her phone, her head spinning. The events of the past few days had been so sudden that it was almost impossible to believe they'd happened. Running into Steve. The shooting. Fury dying. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was hunting her just like her past was – nowhere was safe. She was being thrown headlong into the life she had desperately tried to leave behind.

Then again, she thought ruefully, was there ever any escaping it? She'd been avoiding it, and that was all she could do. At some point she would have had to turn around and face her past head on.

And I won't be doing it alone. I'll have Steve beside me.

Seeing a faint pinprick of light in the darkness, Delaney scooped up the last of her belongings and swung her bag over her shoulder before she ran out of her apartment, her feet pounding against the stairs. She threw her hood up to hide her face before she burst into the open, ready to find Steve.

Ready to confront this problem head-on.