The War, the Shield, and Us
War had a way of stealing time. Moments bled into one another, days disappeared in telegrams and missions, and people changed faster than you could catch your breath.
Elara clutched the edge of the SSR briefing table, trying to listen to Colonel Phillips drone on about enemy locations, but her eyes kept drifting across the room, across the uniforms, to him. Steve stood taller now, not just physically but in spirit. The serum had enhanced more than just his strength, it carved out a quiet confidence that still felt alien on him.
He caught her gaze from across the room, just for a second. A flicker. A soft smile. The kind of thing no one else would notice, but Elara felt it like gravity pulling her in.
When the meeting dismissed, agents filed out briskly, barking orders and passing folders. Steve lingered behind.
“Rough morning?” he asked, falling in step beside her.
Elara glanced at the files in her arms. “Only if you count trying to fix the war with paper cuts and caffeine.”
His laugh was short, warm. “Sounds like what I used to do before anyone let me near a battlefield.”
They walked together through the base’s concrete halls, past officers and engineers and far too many doors she knew would open to bad news. Her station wasn’t far. His wasn’t either. But they walked slower now. Like neither of them wanted the hallway to end.
“You ever think about running away from all of this?” she asked suddenly, voice low.
Steve didn’t answer right away. He looked ahead, jaw tight. “Sometimes. But I think… maybe I’m not supposed to.”
“Even if you could?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now. “If you had the chance to just live?”
He stopped walking. She did too.
For a second, they stood there, suspended in the kind of silence that says everything words can’t.
“Yeah,” Steve said finally, turning to face her. “If I could live… it’d be with you.”
She blinked. Her grip on the files loosened.
But before anything else could be said, before either of them could act on that fragile, beautiful truth Peggy’s voice echoed from down the hall, sharp and professional. “Rogers! You’re needed at testing.”
And just like that, the spell broke.
Steve offered her a look. Apologetic. Longing.
Then he turned and walked away.
That night, Elara sat alone in the temporary quarters she’d been given. Papers scattered on her desk, a photo of the Howling Commandos taped to the edge of the lamp, her journal open but untouched.
She traced the edge of the pocket watch she kept hidden beneath her clothes.
“I would live with you.” The words still echoed.
The war was getting louder. The world was changing faster. And their time? It was shrinking.
Elara had lived her whole life knowing what would happen. But she never expected how hard it would be to love someone you’re destined to lose.
Her fingers moved, slowly writing.
Steve Rogers is not the man the world remembers. He is quieter. Kinder. He listens when no one else does. And I… I think I would’ve loved him even without the serum.
She looked down at the words.
Then she wrote another line.
I already do.