The Flame (Avengers Fanfiction)

52-breathin

Being back at the base felt wrong since we didn't have everyone. It was too quiet and we all knew there would be ashes from some people at the base, it was only a matter of finding them. I left the others as soon as the jet hit the ground so I could find my brother's lab and office. My hand dragged against the cool walls as I walked down the halls, well more like limped down the halls. I let myself into his office, the door swinging being the only noise. Light shined through the windows, catching the dust floating in the air.

"Good morning, Miss Stark-Rogers." FRIDAY greeted as soon as I walked inside, making me stop in my tracks. It felt like someone was squeezing my heart, stopping it from pumping.

"Did my brother program you to call me that?" I ask, my throat tightening as I let the door shut behind me. The noise of the door sliding against the doorframe is almost deafening. The bright light coming in from the windows is practically blinding.

"Yes. He programmed me to do it as soon as he got your first letter."

"FRIDAY, is my brother still alive?" I ask, dreading hearing anything but a yes as I walk to his desk. I immediately spot the various pictures that I had sent Tony. Tears brim my eyes, threatening to fall. All of them are in pretty frames on the wall. Steve and I in the snow, Steve and I asleep, Steve and I hugging one another, me among sunflowers, the silhouette of Steve and I- all the ones I sent my brother. The sonogram isn't among any of them, but he still kept all of them.

"I cannot tell at this moment. He is not on the planet."

As anger fills me, I grab the nearest thing to me, a rock paper weight, and throw it as I scream. It hits a glass wall, shattering it. Glass rains down loudly as I run a hand through my hair. Angry hot tears hiss as they roll down my way too hot cheeks. Steam rises from them as they evaporate.

"FRIDAY, tell the others I'm fine. God damn it. God DAMN IT!" I shout, pacing the room. I force myself to calm down, I force myself to breathe. I shut my eyes for a moment, "FRIDAY, record a message for me."

-

Steve opened the door to his and Pey's old room, turning on the lights. A thin layer of dust covered everything. Everything was just how they had left it. The blankets thrown back from when he and Pey had climbed out of bed. Three years ago seemed so long ago. They were so different then. Steve sat down on the bed, taking it all in.

She had left them as soon as the Quinn Jet had landed. They all had heard the sound of glass breaking and heard FRIDAY telling them that "Miss Stark-Rogers" was fine. Steve wanted to go to her, but he knew that's not what she wanted. So he showed Thor and Rocket to some open rooms, leaving the one beside his and Pey's open for the baby. The room was a good size and Steve could imagine them setting this up as the nursery. Pastel colored walls, a big fluffy rug. Too many toys, too many stuffed animals, a book case. Peyton's sitting in a rocking chair with a small blue bundle. Soft words, soft lullabies.

God, it had terrified him when he saw her with the damn gold gauntlet wrapped around her neck. Her hands desperately trying to pull Thanos's fingers away as tears ran down her face, her feet kicking. The way Pey looked down at him-he'd never get that image out of his head. And when Thanos threw her like she was just a piece of garbage, he thought he had lost his wife and his baby in one moment. They way she hit her head against the tree, the blood-the thought made him want to throw up.

Steve sighed and stood, gathering the sheets and blankets on their bed. He carried them to the laundry room, dropping them to the floor as he turned the washing machine on. Steve couldn't do much for his wife, so if he could just have clean blankets and sheets for her, it was something. He put some of the blankets in the laundry machine, pouring the detergent and the fabric softener in as well. He had tossed in a couple of his shirts and a pair of his sweatpants so she could have something to wear to bed tonight that didn't have an old smell to it. She couldn't do certain smells now, her nose was too sensitive.