The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 19

London, England

Spring 2016

Honestly, Nadine was still surprised that Steve had looked genuinely...grateful wasn't quite the right word. He'd also been surprised and even relieved, if she could believe her own assessment, to see her sitting next to Sam as he returned to his seat having fulfilled the first part of his duty as one of Peggy Carter's pallbearers.

She hadn't expected that. Not exactly. She'd expected perhaps a measure of gratitude, of course, but nothing like the mix of emotions surfacing amid the absolutely gutted expression she'd seen on his face as he'd helped carry Peggy into the church.

And she hadn't been able help but lay her hand on the back of his shoulder as he'd taken his seat next to her, needing to at least try and offer some measure of unspoken comfort. She hoped it helped. The tiny smile he'd spared her as the priest had stepped forward to start the service seemed to indicate as much.

After their long moments in the stairwell, Steve had excused himself for some understandable time alone. It had been nearly a day before he had re-emerged from his solitude, approaching Nadine and Sam in her workroom as they'd been strategizing and debating over the best safehouses to investigate next.

It had actually hurt to hear him so casually suggest that, if Sam came with, the two of them could investigate the defunct safehouse Nadine had flagged in London in nearly the same breath that he'd brought up being asked to serve as a pallbearer during the funeral. Her own breath had actually hitched and, once Steve had again retreated to make arrangements, Sam had met her gaze with a distinctly troubled look. Nadine had only been able to sigh sadly. Instinctively, she'd known without even having to draw on her long-ingrained skills to deduce what he'd really wanted almost the instant he'd suggested Sam should come with.

He hadn't wanted to be alone.

And, bewilderingly, it had stung a little that he'd immediately turned to Sam. Not that she couldn't understand the logic just as she knew her involuntary reaction was irrational. Not only was he the reasonable choice in that Sam wasn't wanted around the world, but the former paratrooper was arguably Steve's closest friend besides Natasha. It had been little surprise that Sam had immediately agreed to Steve's suggestion—though, it had been perfectly clear Sam intended to go along had he been invited or not, Nadine remembered with a small smile.

Then Steve had looked to Nadine.

And the sting of rejection had promptly shifted to one of shame at the distinctly apologetic gleam in his eyes.

She looked up to Steve as they all resumed their seats as the last strains of the opening hymn fell silent. And her heart broke for him. He looked absolutely devastated for all that he looked resigned. His jaw was tense, his eyes were dull and red and it was all Nadine could do not to reach out to him again.

She still couldn't quite rationalize why she'd felt so strongly that she needed to come. Just like she couldn't quite make sense of why Steve had been so pleased to see her. Natasha she might have understood. She was Steve's closest friend—arguably closer even than Sam was—and had been for a while now.

Not to mention her little sister was better at this sort of thing.

Yet it was Natasha who was sitting tucked off at the back of the sanctuary, there having been only enough room left for one of them to join Steve and Sam up near the front.

And here she was, sitting next to Steve as the Priest led the assembled mourners in remembrance and prayer that opened the funeral service.

Not that she wanted to be anywhere else.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She felt distinctly out of place, like she didn't entirely belong among the people assembled to grieve for someone they'd known and loved. She hadn't known Peggy Carter. She respected and even admired what she'd heard of the woman, but she felt like an outsider. An observer only. She didn't even have the distinction of being a former agent of the organization Peggy had helped found...quite the opposite, if fact, if one was being technical. Nadine didn't belong. She had no emotional connection to the woman.