You were his wife in the 40's through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, and through all of the twists of life. Even 70 years later you continued to love him, and stay by his side.
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By the time I arrived back to the Avengers facility, past the restricted gates and onto the grounds it was well past 3 in the morning now. All occupants within the establishment had long since gone to bed, the gift of a good nights sleep taking over everyone, except for one... The Captain himself. Who, ever since the snap, had been in the same insomniac boat as I. The relief of slumber not easy to come by these last five years.
After landing the copter I made my way into the building, which was mostly dark, except for the lounge, that's lights were still on.
The spangled, sleep deprived man himself awake within the furnished den.
Seated at the L shaped Ikea couch my blonde friend wasn't alone. Providing him with some company were several bottles of beer and Whiskey. Aiding in his sleepless night, the alcoholic beverages were lined up in rows on the coffee table, most empty.
The Captain looked to be on the verge of tears as he swiped another lager bottle and twisted open the top. But, this time, instead of taking a swig, he just stared down at the floor. His blue eyes glossed over and he looked to be having a tough night.
Even five years later, no pain had lessened. How could it?
"You know that Doctor way back in the day? Dr. Erskine. He told me that the Serum wouldn't just affect my muscles, it would also affect my cells. Create a protective system of regeneration and healing. Which means I can't get drunk..." He choked out, his voice deep, riddled with sadness.
It seemed as though my dear friend was having a bad time, where the demons of guilt and regret were eating at him. Demanding to be felt as they denied him sleep and peace. And, I was glad I came home early, hating to see him like this.
"I can." I bragged, swiping the bottle of beer from him and taking a big chug as I sat on the couch beside him. His sadness would continue, sure, but at least now he wasn't sad alone.
"I though you didn't drink." Steve observed, wiping his watery sky shaded pools with the sleeve of his navy sweater.
"Things change." I simply commented, taking another swig of the alcohol.
"You okay, Becky?" Steve asked, even though it was him who was depressed and had been close to crying when I came in. He still found it in himself to care more about my well being than his own.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that, Steve?" I rebutted, but my friend just gave me the look. The look that meant he'd much rather hear about my hardship's than having to tell his own. His emotions more so like a dam and he feared what would happen if he allowed too much of a crack.
So, I complied with his wishes.
I thought about the fun day I had had with Morgan and for some reason my mind thought back on the non-existent child that Bucky and I talked so much about.
We even already had names picked out and everything. That memory such a distant, sweet dream now. Out of reach...
"We were thinking about adopting, you know? Way back one night in Wakanda. By the light of a bonfire as we watched that wretched crimson book and the cruel trigger words within it disintegrate into nothing but ash... We actually talked about the future, our future..."
