The Game That Started it All

Central Park

Steve's POV:

I walk down the little pathways of Central Park in the afternoon sun. It beams down like the whole world was smiling at me, happy, with what it had done.

It was a beautiful fall day and the colourful trees swayed in the light breeze that flew through the air, careless and free. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

I still clutched the little grey blanket that Buck gave me earlier, not caring about what the others who passed by thought about it. I hadn't bothered to hide my face and identity to the people who strolled in the park along with me today, it was very unlikely for anyone to bother me recently. The public knew by now that the beloved Black Widow was gone, causing the odd few people to stop me in my tracks and say those 5 words;

'I'm sorry for your loss'.

It felt like a hard punch to the gut, knocking the wind from me each time. I would always reply with the same exact gestures, almost like a robot with one command;

'Thank you' along with a curt nod.

My mind was relentless, never seeming to rest. My most recent dream haunted me and gave me an odd feeling. It felt like a sign, a message. Why would Natasha's worst fears be in my dream? We wouldn't really talk about what scared us, only when either of us had a bad dream.

I missed her.

I kept my eyes on the ground consumed in my thoughts when someone running at quite a speed bumped into me. I hardly move at the impact and look up to apologize to the teenage boy I had absentmindedly collided with but he quickly started rambling.

"O-oh I'm so so sorry Mr. America I-I uh wasn't looking where I was going sir." The awkward teen spoke fast.

"It's ok don't worry about it kid." I say giving him a small smile. Just as I was about to continue walking he stopped me.

"Um hey I-I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Ms. Romanoff. You probably have heard enough of it b-but I just thought-"

"It's alright, thank you." I say giving my cued nod.

"I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker." He smiles stretching out a hand.

I release one of my hands from its iron grip on the blanket and shake his hand, "Nice to meet you Peter. I better be going now though."

"Of course yeah no worries, see ya around Captain!" He said running off again with his back pack bouncing along with him. I chuckle at the kids personality, he seemed nice, reminded me of myself.

I sigh lightly and remember the good old days, when Bucky would be scolding me much like a father would after getting beaten up and later saved by his ass. Then the little face of disapproval my mother would give me when I came home all bloodied and bruised, nonetheless, she would patch me up and always give me the little playful kiss on the nose afterwards.

'You're a handful Steven, but I can't ever be mad at someone as brave as you.' She would always say. I then remembered sadly the moment of my mom holding me for the last time.

"It's ok." My mother cooed as I cried into her shoulder.

"Why?" I sobbed, "Why didn't you j-just stay down mama?"

She pulls me from my place on her shoulder and puts her hands on either side of my face, holding me and wiping my tears with her bloodied thumbs.

"Because, and you listen close Steven." She paused to look at me deeply with the blue eyes I inherited from her, "You always stand up."