Marvel Imagines

Steven Rogers - Anniversary

Warnings: Angst
Note: Memories are in italics
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Steve clutched the bouquet of flowers in his trembling hand: an assortment if baby's breath, roses, lilies. He took a deep breath, opening the door and walking out into the world.

Steve jogged his usual path around the park. All was normal this morning: same crowd, same sounds. Then he came across the life altering sight of you in all your glory, running with a dog at your side, wearing tight-fitting, athletic clothing. Without realizing it, he made his way to you, eventually jogging next to you.

"You new around here?" He questioned.

"Not really. Got back from a work trip recently," you responded. Your dog veered to the side, chasing a squirrel. "Beau!" You yelped. "We've been over this: no squirrels." You pulled him over to the edge of the trail to get out of Steve's way, but he followed you. "Alright, I'll bite. What is it about me that's kept your attention?"

Feeling bold, Steve responded, "Well, for starters, you're very attractive." Steve smiled a bright, infectious smile. You couldn't help but mimic him.

Steve walked down the pathways of New York, bouquet held tightly in his grip. He rounded street corners, seeing the place you went for your first date.

After only a week of knowing each other, you asked Steve out to dinner. It wasn't a fancy restaurant by any means. As a matter of fact, it was just an old, family-run, mom-and-pop diner that reminded Steve of his time.

You talked for hours about anything and everything. If one of you could talk about it, the other could listen. You only left because they were closing and kicked you out.

You walked along the streets, arm in arm, and invited him into your apartment. You watched one of your favourite television series from the beginning, so Steve could catch up on something in the present. The activity only brought you closer together.

Shaking his head and smiling softly, Steve continued on his way. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he rounded the final corner, and gazed at his destination.

Green grass covered the ground surrounding the polished grey stone. Your name was etched proudly on the front with a date of birth to date of death. The text below the date read: A friend, a hero, and an inspiration.

Steve ran his fingers over the letters as tears welled in his eyes. He set down the bouquet as he knelt beside your gravestone.

"God," he sniffed, "you would hate seeing me like this." He tried for a smile, but it quickly fell. "I miss you. There's not a day that I don't think of you." Steve wiped the tears off his cheeks. He tried to hold them back, but it didn't matter. The tears kept coming, getting worse as time progressed. "It's my fault," he muttered against the constricting soreness in his throat. "I should have been there."

The yelling was so loud he couldn't even hear his thoughts. He could make out the sound of gunshots, but he wasn't certain as to where they were coming from. He kept running, fighting. Then he came across the life altering sight of you, your hand clutched over your abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. The fabric of your suit soaked up some of the blood, but did nothing more to help secure the wound.

Steve immediately shouted into his comm fir help. He needed a medic. The most he could do was put pressure on the wound. Somehow, in all of this disaster, you were calm. You smiled gently and grabbed Steve's hand.

"I don't think I'll make it out this time, darling," you whispered. "It's okay to let go... I love you."

"No! No no no, don't talk like that. You're gonna get out of here. We're gonna go home. You're going to get back to the house and feed Beau, okay?" Steve started rocking back and forth, cradling you in his arms. "Hold on just a little longer. I love you so much," he muttered through tears. You didn't respond. You'd never respond again.

"Shit," Steve cursed under his breath. He wiped tears off his cheeks as he watched two others make their way to your headstone.

Natasha set a single daisy next to Steve's carefully selected assortment. She recalled them being what you wanted for your wedding if you and Steve ever decided to settle down.

Sam Wilson set a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. "They're happy, you know. They're definitely watching over us. I don't think you're ever going to die now. (Y/n)'d punch the grim reaper in the face to keep you safe."

A small smile edged onto Steve's lips.

Maybe you were no longer there physically, but you were most definitely there is spirit. There was no way in hell you would be forgotten.