Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

Don't Remember...Don't Forget (Steve Rogers x reader)

Angst Warning

The Avengers tower was shaking. The foundation it sat on was struggling to maintain it's weight and the blasts hitting it from each side cracked up the walls and crumbled the supports that kept it a part of the New York skyline. It was a skyline that was about to forever be changed. The tower was falling.

The sounds of cracking plaster and bending metal were deafening, but you could still hear your target. You could hear the cries of your daughter on the floor above. Steve was three floors below you and had no way to get to her; you were her last chance. A primal fury grew in your chest as you pushed forward, desperately climbing the shards of glass that now were like daggers shooting out from the walls that stood between you and her. There was no pain; no sense of the tearing of your skin on the jagged blades, no sting from the burns of hot metal as you grabbed hold to pull yourself closer to her. You only knew of your need to reach her.

Steve screamed for you from below, but you didn't hear him. Your mind pushed him away, unable to feel fear for both your husband and your daughter. Steve was going to be okay.

The building rocked again, tossing you slightly with it but you maintained your grip somehow, despite the blood that coated your hands. With panting breaths you closed your eyes, trying to rebuild your wavering strength, furious that your body would dare to betray you now, but another loud cry was all you needed to renew your resolve. Pulling your battered body over the final mound of debris, you finally saw her and felt a small sense of relief. She was dirty and terrified, but you didn't see any injuries as you frantically looked over her small body. When you lifted her, she felt weightless; you ran back towards Steve with a speed that you never knew you had.

"(Y/N)!" he yelled again, tripping and nearly losing his balance as the tower shook, dodging a large mass of concrete that smashed into pieces next to him. It was the once-safe landing that you needed to escape, leaving nothing but an empty space below you. You clutched your daughter to your chest and kissed her head, whispering 'I love you' and how you would always be with her, looking down at Steve from above.

"Steve! Can you catch her?!"

His eyes widened in terror at the thought of his tiny daughter being thrown to him and the risk that he might miss. But it was the only option that the two of you had. "Do it!" He got as close as he could to the precipice that barely held your weight and opened his arms, holding his breath as he watched; he watched his nine-month-old daughter flailing in mid-air until his strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his chest. Seeing her finally safely in his arms, the pain in your body gripped you and almost dropped you to your knees.

"(Y/N), jump!"

You took a step back to prepare for a jump that you feared you would never make, but when you glanced out the window you saw one of the enemy planes taking aim. Your instincts again took over your mind and your need to protect them clouded your judgment. "Steve, just go! Get her out of here!"

"No! Not without you!"

The missle was ejected and heading towards you too quickly to decide. If you jumped, Steve would have to set her down to catch you, and there was no guarantee that you wouldn't hurt him in the process, leaving you all at risk. If he tried to hold her and reach for you, he could drop her. If he fell, he would be lost. You looked down at him, meeting his eyes that were full of panic, and gave him a gentle smile. Just before the strike hit that would bury you in ruble hundreds of feet below, you called out to him one last time.

"Steve, don't let her remember this. Don't let her forget me."

Part 2

After a long day at the office, sitting at a desk and staring at the inane data on a far too bright computer screen, all you could concentrate on was the ache in your feet from ridiculous shoes and the urge to move. You weren't made for office work, that was certain. Your body argued with you every day that you dropped into your office chair, screaming for you to get up and move. It had been this way for as long as you could remember, but you weren't really sure why; your office mates frequently commented on your speed when you would walk to lunch together, or your quick reflexes in that you never dropped anything...ever. Your vision was incredibly sharp and you never missed a single word of office gossip with your on-point hearing ability; but this driving need to move was almost to the point of annoying.