Hell Froze Over*Avengers*Captain America*Reader*

8) Show me the path of love to take

AKA Flashforward no.1

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He didn't leave their room for days.

Hell, he barely moved. He knew he should shower. Shave. Leave his fucking hideout. Go see anyone. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He could have felt the thirst, the hunger. His muscles' stiffness for being in the same position too long. He was pretty sure that he would have been able to smell himself.

But his whole focus was on the little movement of his fingers, the sensation of the chain and most importantly, the smooth metal of the ring. The engraving. The last word of it in particular, brining fresh tears to his eyes every so often. Together.

The first part of the sentence was on written on his own ring. The only battle worth fighting...

Yours was carrying the more important part; as you were from the two of them. ...is the one fought together.

Steve pressed his lips into a line to stop his jaw from trembling and pushed his fist harder against his forehead.

So how do you fight the battle alone?

It was the only question that mattered to him now and at the same time, it was the one question he knew he could possibly never find the answer for – not after he had learned what was it like not to fight it on his own.

Pale cold skin. Lifeless hand in his own. The picture of your empty eyes... it was burned into his brain, never leaving.

They had to drag him away – the love of his life ripped from his fingers –, after a while; the time that felt like eternity, each beat of his heart too slow and painful. He would exchange every one of those for one more moment with you.

It wasn't the first time he had lost you. He still remembered you turning into dust right in front of his eyes, literally slipping from under his fingertips, the sensation still haunting him every now and then.

Well. Not anymore. Now he had a new nightmare.

And it was worse. Because the first time, he had something to fight. He had a villain to beat, to avenge your death and possibly reverse it. This time, he had neither.

It wasn't a battle he could fight, let alone win. The complications came without warning and hit hard. The doctors, plural, weren't able to beat it. Let alone one little soldier.

Steve released a shaky breath, achingly taking another gulp of air as he heard a knock on the door. He didn't bother replying; the others had respected his need for privacy so far and left him alone.

Which was why he didn't expect the person to actually enter.

He looked up with a frown and a mean spark in his eyes. He didn't want to see anyone, not anyone except the one person who couldn't come through anymore and he-

He blinked several times, stunned. In the door stood the one person he would never expect to show up. Then again maybe he should have. But he didn't know what to expect these days. The future hadn't been in his thoughts lately; the past was occupying his mind.

"Hello, Steve."

The man in question still stared at the newcomer, too shocked to respond, thrown off, woken from his apathy.

Shock. It was the first emotion he felt outside of grief and anger he had been drowning in for past few days, drowned and numbed.

"Take that as a yes," the blind man murmured and for a brief moment, Steve wondered if he was missing pieces of sentences and hadn't heard Matt Murdock ask him if he could come in. He wouldn't be surprised at that.