Into the War || A Captain America Love Story

49

TORI

The rest of the day was uneventful. Steve and I just talked about baby things and that was about it for the rest of the day. I eventually went to bed early and Steve shortly followed. It makes me so happy that he is......well, happy. He is just so overjoyed that if he is talking, it's about the kid and the kid only. I am the same way, but he is taking it to an extreme level.

I wake to a soft kiss on my cheek and a hand resting gently on my stomach. By the time I open my eyes to see Steve, his dark silhouette is walking out of the room.

"Steve?" I call.

He turns back around swiftly, his gleaming eyes wide with concern. It's still dark outside and he is adorning his Captain America stealth suit, allowing me to form my hypothesis.

"Are you leaving for the mission?" I ask him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

He nods sadly, looking down. "I don't want to. At all."

"I know," I coo. "But you want to save people, right? Besides, it's not like your free will to help whenever you want has repaired itself. So I'd take that chance while I could."

"I know you would," he whispers. He gingerly brushes a strand of my short hair behind my ear, sighing. "That's the only reason I'm going."

"Now go and save for me, Cap," I smile, ruffling his hair.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, giving me a quick salute. He pecks my lips and gets up off the bed. "I love you both."

I smile, sitting up in bed. "We love you too."

I barely pay attention to him stepping out of the room. I just process what I just said. I'm not used to it at all. I don't like it but I don't dislike it at the same time. I just don't know what to think of it. Sure, we've only known for a few days now, but even that is weird. I honestly forget about it sometimes and then wonder why I feel like I'm about to throw up. Oh wait, something is pushing my insides around.

I glance at the clock: 4:12am. Poor Steve only got a few hours of sleep. Granted, he doesn't need a whole lot and neither do I (even though that has changed recently), it just makes me feel awful when he is forced to get zero sleep. Technically, he is not forced, but still.

Damn hormones.

I curl up into bed and I head back to sleep.

•••

Dreams suck. People love them, people hate them. But I despise them. I cannot ever get that point across clearly.

I am standing in a room with no windows and no doors, just four walls, one floor, and one ceiling. I'm already beginning to feel cramped and claustrophobic for just being in here for a few seconds. I cross my arms, trying to make myself as small as possible in the room. I hear a heartbeat in my ears, most definitely my own. However, there is a sharper, quieter heartbeat the overlaps it. I gulp and scan the room for any possible way out.

That's when the walls start closing in on me. The drywall cracks and scrapes across the floor to surround me on all four sides to the point where I can't even breathe. My shoulders and hips feels like they are about to snap as the solid wall slowly gets closer. I let out a scream, trying to get out as the pain courses through me.

The louder heartbeat quickens and thumps harder in my ears. I can't bring my hands up to my ears to even mask the sound, so I'm forced to let the sound break my eardrums. I scream on the top of my lungs, for Steve, for Tony, for anyone, to help.

As the beats get even louder than I thought was possible, the walls begin to crack around me. They eventually fall into a pile of debris around me. Drywall dust covers my body and fills my lungs. I try to cough it up and get it out of my eyes, but little bits are still there. By the time I can peel my eyes open the slightest bit, everything as gone black.

The powerful heartbeat fades into a slow and quiet rhythm. As it slows, a steady beep rings in my ears over the smaller heartbeat. I feel myself crumple to the floor, unmoving and lifeless.

The quiet beat still echoes in my ears, becoming even quieter as time goes by. Then it falls into the dead beep in sync with the original one.

•••

I shoot up from the bed, holding the sheets in my fists. Cold sweat drips down my forehead and my breaths are rugged.

"S-Steve?" I ask below a whisper, turning to my left. My fingers trace the cool surface of the sheets where he usually sleeps. He isn't here; he left for that mission earlier this morning. I am alone.

But I'm not.

My trembling hand rests on my stomach. I begin to cry, holding my face in my other hand. I whisper comforting words to myself, repeating to myself that it was just a dream. But it could happen, I could lose my child and it would be my fault. I cup my hand over my mouth to mask a sob. I just want Steve here. I want to be with him right now. I just want to be in his strong arms and for him to tell me that it will be okay. 

A few minutes later, I check the time: 6:03am. What is the point in sleeping in when I cannot physically fall asleep again? I slowly crawl out of bed, crossing my arms across my chest. I step out into the cold and dark house, the only signs of life being my own footsteps. I walk through the main area and towards the kitchen. I gasp and grab for the small picture on the wall, pulling it back to uncover the hidden knife I've kept there.

"Tori, what the hell?" Bucky's voice rings through my ears.

I point the tip of the blade at Bucky's throat, barely grazing his skin. His hands are held up, showing no weapons. I bring the knife down, staring at him in disbelief.

"How long have you been here?" I ask him in a low voice.

"How long has Steve been gone?" he questions in response.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation. "And he probably asked you to babysit me, huh?"

"How did you know?"

It's gonna be a long day.