Forward to the Past [Steggy] ✔

Chapter Twelve

Steve's POV

Present Time

My alarm wakes me up at five AM, and I reach over and slap the snooze button, my eyes stinging as I force them open.

What a horrible day I'd had yesterday.

Slowly changing into running clothes, I groan, not looking forward to having to go to the compound today. Maybe I just won't.

I blearily open my door, shaking away the last cobwebs of sleep before stepping out into the hallway and heading into the kitchen, where Bucky is already seated, sipping coffee and yawning.

"Morning, Steve," he mumbles, jaws stretching into another huge yawn.

"Morning, Buck," I respond. "Happy birthday."

"Don't remind me," Bucky grumbles. "I feel like a grandpa."

I chuckle, sitting across from Bucky and stealing the pot of coffee to pour myself a cup. "Triple digits a little much for you?" I joke, and Bucky blinks.

"Oh my God, I'm a hundred years old now. I haven't had a birthday acknowledged in ages. I'd forgotten." He looks at me in distress, his eyes wide. "Steve, I'm a freaking whippersnapper! Ugh...." he groans, slamming his head on the table, and I laugh.

"Last birthday we celebrated was your twenty sixth," I say. "I took you to your favorite restaurant."

Bucky nods, not lifting his head from the table. "That's when we figured out you were allergic to... what was it again?"

"The alfredo," I say, laughing.

"Right. You started having an athsma attack because your throat was swollen," Bucky chuckles. "That was quite the birthday."

"What do you want to do for your birthday, then? It's the first we'll celebrate in seventy four years."

"Don't you have to work?" Bucky says, looking befuddled and finally lifting his head up.

"I'm not going in today," I mumble, internally grumbling as Bucky's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"That's uncharacteristic," he notices. "What's wrong now?"

"Peggy's pissed," I admit, taking another sip of my coffee and then topping it off. "She doesn't appreciate me having a girlfriend. Clint told me she was all shaken up about it when he met her."

"She's got no right to be mad!" Bucky exclaims. "She can't make you wait until you're old!"

"I'm already old," I joke halfheartedly.

"Still," Bucky growls. "It's not fair to you. I say you can have a relationship with Sasha no matter what Peggy says."

I sigh, staring into my coffee cup. "I know, I just feel like I'm kind of betraying her. We loved each other, Buck."

"That was in the 40's, Steve," Bucky scoffs. "She though you were dead. And when she goes back, she'll still think that. You've moved on. There's no reason she can't either."

A flash of guilt washes through me as I think that maybe Bucky's right. I can be with Sasha if I want, right? Peggy is going to have to leave anyways.

"You ready to go?" Bucky says at last, draining his cup and standing. "The run isn't going to do itself."

"Yeah," I say, nodding. "I'm coming. And then I'm going over to Sasha's."

...............

I check my watch over and over again, watching for the clock to hit eight thirty. Sasha had told me that that was the appropriate time for me to come over to her place in the mornings, because any time before that, and she'd be asleep. So I'm pacing the hall outside of hee apartment, watching as the clock hits 8:27. Good enough.

I knock on the door, and it's almost a minute before the handle turns and the door is pushed out, revealing a very disheveled looking Sasha, dressed in a rather revealing white tank top and a pair of red shorts, her hair hastily thrown into a messy bun. God, that looks hot.

You're early," she grunts, but she's smiling even so. "Come on in."

I follow her into her apartment and we settle ourselves onto the couch where Sasha throws her feet onto the end table and grins at me a little blearily.

"Did Bucky give you my message?" She asks, and I nod.

"Yeah. I read it."

"And?" Sasha says, looking a little nervous now.

"I love you too." I smile at Sasha, whose dark eyes widen in sheer delight.

"Really? That's awesome! Oh God, I was so nervous...."

"You don't need to be," I assure her. "You know, I had a pretty crazy day yesterday and ended up running into an old girlfriend who isn't excited about us being together, but I love you, Sasha."

"You turned her down for me?" Sasha says, her lips stretching into a wide grin. "I'm honored, Steve."

"I can take you out for breakfast," I offer. "It's Bucky's birthday today, so I've got to be back so I can have some time with him, but-"

"Breakfast would be great!" Sasha exclaims. "Oh, and tell Bucky happy birthday for me."

"I will," I say to her. "Why don't you get ready? I've got a place we can walk to from here."

"Great!" Sasha says, then jumps to her feet and sprints to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. It reopens for a moment so Sasha can say "I'll be ready in twenty minutes!"

While she's getting ready, I relax on the couch, mingled feelings of relief and guilt coursing through me. On the one hand, I'm glad that Sasha loves me, hut on the other hand, I still feel like I love Peggy. But I can't just ditch Sasha.

My gaze is caught by something on the mantle of the fireplace, and I get up, walking over and picking up a sheet of paper. It's an article... about last year. The incident at the UN meeting, and a file on Baron Zemo. She clearly wants to get all the information, I notice, placing it nonchalantly back on the mantle and sitting down just as Sasha walks into the room.

She's wearing a simple blue dress with long sleeves, and a pair of black boots over black tights. She's also carrying a small bag.

"You look nice," I say, smiling, and Sasha returns the smile.

"Thanks. Shall we go?"

"Sure," I say, and we leave together, Sasha closing the door behind us and locking it. We head down the stairs and out onto the street, where the early spring weather sends shivers down my spine.

"Oh, I've got to grab something from here," Sasha says suddenly, grabbing my arm and yanking me a bit harshly into an alley. Once we're at the back of the alley, Sasha stops and turns to face me, her expression sort of dead.

"Sasha...?" I ask, a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. "What's going on?"

"I just needed to grab something," she says in a cheery voice that in no way matches her expression. Then she reaches into her bag and pulls put a gun, aiming at my chest. I try to run, but I feel frozen, and she pulls the trigger, a shot ringing out and pain spreading through my chest. I collapse to the ground, feeling cold cement beneath my back. Before I lose consciousness, Sasha stalks over to me, her eyes cold, and whispers two words.

"Hail Hydra."