Anger
They had just faced Ultron and the Optimized Twins.
One was out of harm's way, another had sacrificed himself for the good cause and the last had joined the Avengers team.
Wanda was her name.
The young girl had been experimented on by Hydra, just like Bucky at the time. And she was suffering the loss of her most beloved person in the world, just as Steve was today.
He had done his best to console her after the episode in Sokovia. Pietro's death is important. It's not just an insignificant detail, and Steve won't let Wanda convince herself otherwise.
They'd spent a lot of time together since she'd joined the Tower. She'd told him stories about growing up with her brother; the sitcoms they preferred to watch, the mischiefs that had sent them straight to their room, or when he'd consoled her after some girls at her school had made fun of her. The more Wanda talked, the more Steve felt he knew the boy.
That afternoon, they sat on Wanda's bed as usual. The girl continued the stories she'd left out the day before, she started new ones and repeated some of them. She was opening up, and Steve was happy that she felt comfortable enough to do so. With Natasha and Sam, she was the only one he could converse with without anxiety. Together, they were able to free themselves from their suffering for a few moments.
Unfortunately, it never lasted very long. Wanda was nestled in his arms: she remained silent, the tears no longer even wanting to flow. She only needed to pretend, even for a few minutes, that she was holding her brother close.
"I wish I could bring Pietro back to you..." Steve smiled sadly at her. He meant it sincerely, just as he was convinced that it was the Avengers' fault that the boy was no more. He'd died serving a noble cause, and they hadn't been able to save him in return. A bit like-...
Wanda raised her head slowly, devastated, but smiled weakly in turn. Steve hadn't expected her answer.
"And I wish I could bring James back to you..."
His body froze, as if he were once again trapped in the Arctic ice. He'd never had the strength to talk to anyone about Bucky since waking up. Not that he was afraid or ashamed, quite the opposite; it was just easier. Pretend their life together had never existed. That he'd dreamed it, imagined it, hallucinated it. Sometimes he caught himself believing it; in his darkest phases, he told himself that a being as wonderful as his Bucky had been decidedly couldn't have existed, let alone loved him.
"How..." stammered Captain America, whose astonishment hadn't worn off.
The girl giggled gently, her eyes still lulled by an exhilarating moisture. "I can read your mind Steve, I know you think of him when I talk about Pietro."
His heart crumbled a little more. "I'm sorry," he confessed. "It's selfish..."
"No." She took one of his hands in hers. "I know hearing me rehash these memories makes you feel better too, and that's good. You're suffering Steve, I don't need magical powers to feel it. And I want to help you like you're helping me."
Steve remained unmoved, unsure how to respond.
"Maybe if you told me what he was like too, you'd feel better...?"
"No." The blond stood up hastily, startling the young girl. At the time, he probably wished he could talk about him. To externalize his grief or even keep his memory alive. But it's too late now. Just thinking about him as someone who lived is torture. At times, he manages to convince his brain that his lover existed only in his mind, a pure invention to escape loneliness. Steve was very lonely in the '30s, puny, impulsive and never missing an opportunity to get into trouble. So why would someone like Bucky be interested in him? The answer is simple: because he lived only in his head.
Yet it was incredibly difficult to stick to that explanation, when often he could still feel the touch of their skin against each other as he recalled their memories... It wasn't much, just the feeling of a comforting hand holding his or resting on his shoulder.
Wanda's incredulous gaze sought an explanation for this sudden change in behavior. Steve simply took a deep breath and spoke in his captain's voice, the one whose tone was cold and deadpan. "Thanks, Wanda. I appreciate your support, but I don't need it. I've done my mourning. James is dead and there's nothing we can do about it."
He didn't know who he was fooling with a lie like that. Of course the burn was still consuming him and would do so until his own death. Of course his tireless will to believe in a dream wasn't working. Of course he'd never come to terms with the idea that he'd never see him again. But at least by closing up like this, maybe Wanda would never raise the subject again.
He headed for the bedroom door and said in a professional tone that she had her first recruit training tomorrow morning and that everyone was counting on her.
She nodded, staring at Steve, who had the sensation of having his chest pierced; precisely where his heart was.
»»————- ★ ————-««
Early the next morning, Wanda knocked on Steve's door. She had never been here, or in any other Avengers apartment for that matter. In fact, since she'd been here, Steve had only seen her in two places: in her bedroom and occasionally in the common area. Cap, still in bed, grumbled grumpily as Jarvis announced that it was the little redhead pounding on his poor front door.
His alarm clock read 8:00. Usually, he was already joining Sam for their jog at this hour. But today, Steve wasn't in the mood. Yesterday's discussion had upset him, to say the least. He'd been thinking about confiding in someone he trusted about Bucky. Maybe not Wanda, if anything, she already knew every detail, and if Steve had to talk about it, he wanted to keep parts of their lives to himself. Sam would listen. He'd already done a lot for him. Besides, he was a fantastic psychologist; he would never allow Steve to feel bad about revealing the part of his past that mattered most to him. Nat would listen to him too. She could appear cold and withdrawn, but when it came to her friends, she was probably one of the best ears around.
Wanda was still banging on his door. He got out of bed with difficulty, put on a T-shirt in addition to the jogging pants he was already wearing and went to answer it.
"Steve, I found it !" she said cheerfully. She pushed her way between Steve and the door and entered Captain America's quarters before he could protest.
"You found what ?" he asked confused. He watched the young woman tripping impatiently. He'd never seen her looking so... well. For the first time since he'd met her, Wanda looked good: relaxed yet energetic, fulfilled, almost... happy ? A wave of warmth came over him, compassion for this little girl he'd seen more crying than smiling. He wanted to take her in his arms, to tell her he was proud of her, to do everything he could to never see that smile fade.
All it takes is one word to ruin everything.
"James..." she began, grinning from ear to ear.
And Steve broke down.
He only vaguely remembers what happened. He yelled at her, of that he did remember. He screamed at her to leave, to never mention his name again. He pushed her back to the door, which he slammed violently before collapsing.
He sat there for a long time. His phone rang several times. He made a superhuman effort to reach for it when he saw Sam's name on the screen. His blood ran cold. He implored all the forces of nature to Wanda not to have said anything.
"What are you doing ? We're waiting for you to train, man. You letting me run on my own is no problem, but the team needs its captain !"
The blond didn't answer.
"Steve, are you all right ?"
"I'm not feeling well, tell Nat to take over for me."
He hung up, and just like that, he went back to slump in his bed, hoping to wake up from this life.
»»————- ★ ————-««
Wanda was doing incredibly well. She was undoubtedly the strongest of the team, discovering new abilities every day. The little redhead was radiant, to everyone's astonishment. Steve was almost annoyed when they all dined together and Wanda sparkled with life. He envied her and resented her at the same time; Pietro in all this? The day before she mourned him, and the day after it was as if she'd forgotten him. He'd never had the chance to be alone with her again and hear more stories about her brother. Right, he was also running away from any chance of that happening again, but to be honest, Wanda didn't even seem to need it anymore.
He'd been putting up with Wanda's unbearable good humor for two months now. She trotted over to sit next to him for another dinner together. The atmosphere was in full swing, with bicker after bicker, laughter, and lively discussion.
Only Steve was quiet, as usual. Except this time, Black Widow had decided he wasn't going to get away with it.
"What about you, my little Steve, still too perfect for the hundreds of suitors I'm sending you ?" she teased him.
From the end of the table came "ouuuuh" probably from Tony, Clint and Thor - who had joined them. "So Cap, tell us all about it; any of them managed to prick the heart of America's booboo ?" sneered the engineer.
"Apparently not, since he still doesn't go on the dates I organize for him !" falsely annoyed Natasha.
Steve's not amused, and he knows that the longer he stays, the worse the teasing will get. He gets up, quickly deposits plate and cutlery in the sink in the kitchen connected to the dining room, then starts to leave.
"Oh, come on Cap, your life before doesn't exist anymore. And look at all you've got now, it would be silly to deprive yourself of entertainment, especially when you see how insignificant the past can be when you put your mind to it."
Tony's words hit him hard. "Insignificant" ? Giving up the love of his life for "entertainment" ?
Thoughts churned in his mind as he fled that damned common room. This was surely the last dinner he'd spend in their company.
He was about to open the door to his quarters when he heard footsteps running after him.
"Steve, wait !" shouted Wanda from the other end of the corridor. Tonight's interaction had made her realize that although Steve Rogers was known for helping and supporting others, no one had done it for him. It must have taken its toll if today he still hasn't told anyone about what's eating away at him. Not even his friends. Nevertheless, the man turned his head toward her. He still looked defeated and didn't really seem open to discussion, but the young girl took the plunge anyway. Once she reached him, she took the time to search for her words. "Pietro..."
Steve closed his eyes and sighed loudly. He knew it was rude, but he honestly didn't need to be told that he wasn't the only one grieving, that it was manageable and all that. Especially not by someone who'd gotten over it a lot faster than he had.
"Wait," the redhead continued before the Captain could completely brace himself. "After our conversation, I realized I only wanted one thing; to see him one last time. Just to see him, talk to him, have him tell me that things were going well for him and that he was happy. I needed that to move on."
"Hm hm..." quipped Steve. He didn't like the way the conversation was going. It didn't matter if he was cold, the only thing he wanted right now was to be left alone.
Wanda didn't back down, however. "So I did it."
She paused for a moment, trying to regain his attention.
"You did... what ?" asked Steve nonchalantly.
"I saw him again."
The Captain's brows furrowed. His magic was able to do... that ? Really ? No, it wasn't possible. Another fucking ruse to try to cheer him up.
"Steve, I could make you see Bucky one more time too."
Lie. Lie, nonsense and cruelty. He knew what she was capable of, and he didn't want a distorted vision, not for this. It would destroy him. He fulminated with rage: How could she dare propose this to him ? Nobody understood him. They wanted to play him, to offer him a web of falsehoods to feign a hypothetical happiness. But the truth was, he'd never be happy again, and deep down, he'd known it for a long time.
"I won't let you manipulate me with your images, not on this subject."
"No, this is different ! No illusions, you have my word."
She sounded genuinely sincere. Wanda was lighting a flame of hope in his heart, a flame he didn't want, since if it were false, he wouldn't want to live after this. And yet, part of him wanted to believe it. He took a deep breath, trying to soothe his tumultuous heart caused by the flood of emotions brought on by this evening.
If it worked, he'd see him again. And if it didn't work, he'd stop everything.
"...And what am I supposed to do ?"