Til Death Do Us Part.

Soldier's Of War.

The last time I bared witness to a War starting was back when President Franklin Roosevelt addressed the Nation after Pearl Harbor. And, I remembered how scared I was back then, just hearing him on the radio, his words of horror laced with static, his speech evident in my mind even to this day. 

On December 8th, 1941, a day like any other until everyone tuned in, their ears peeled as he spoke of the "date which will live in infamy", and I remembered holding Bucky's hand as we listened to the seven minute testimony. Back then I think I just looked over at Bucky, and remembered thinking about how he would be drafted, and that I might be one of the "next of kin" to receive an unlucky telegram from the Military informing me of his death. 

Back then I think I wanted to believe it wasn't true, but now? I knew better. I knew a War when I saw one, and as I continued to watch the recorded footage I knew this was all too familiar to be anything but the start of a fight. 

I was too preoccupied in my daze to notice the whir of jet engines outside, the noise probably deafening as the aircraft landed, but to seek some comfort I just fiddled with my golden wedding band, oblivious to the quaking sound.  

A tired, blonde old man dressed in his uniform now stood in my doorway, the iconic star on his chest blackened out, the "A" logo on his sleeve absent. His shield no longer strapped to his back. 

I looked over at him, his gaze just as weary as mine. 

"So, judging by what I just saw on TV I doubt you're here to take me on a fun field trip." I joked, but without a single trace of lightheartedness in my tone. 

"I'm sorry, Becky. I wouldn't of brought you into this if I didn't need you." Steve said, only restoring the notion in which I feared; once a soldier always a soldier. 

I just silently nodded, popping out a particular floorboard in my living room, the wooden panel lifting as I retrieved the modified version of my uniform that was hidden below. A uniform I thought I would never have the misfortune of wearing. 

After suiting up I followed Steve out, and into the Quinjet where Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and an injured Vision were already seated. Vision's synthetic body phasing in and out, much like a glitch from the gouge along his torso and I looked at how Wanda was holding onto him. 

Sam flew us out, and back up into the blue sky, the jet seeking cover within the puffy white clouds. 

And, while we flew away I stood splintered off from the others, and just listened in as they talked about the attack in Scotland as well. The 2 Infinity Stones on Earth the Children of Thanos' main objective. The fate of the whole universe on our shoulders a heavy toll, a burden that had fallen onto every hero who dared to stand up and fight, and once again I was selfish. 

Selfish in thinking solely about another old man in Wakanda who had seen enough War to only once again be stricken with another. Peace would be taken away from him yet again, the very thing he deserved the most, and I hated it. 

I watched as Steve walked over to me, and he rested his hand on my back, looking down at me. The glint in his blue eyes sad, and I didn't meet his gaze in fear he might see the tears in my own eyes. 

"Soldiers can never get away from War, can they?" I spoke up, a crack in my tone I hoped he couldn't hear, and Steve just remained silent. Him knowing very well that my statement was true. 

"I'm sorry, Becky." 

"You don't have to say sorry, Steve." 

"Yes, I do." The Captain returned right before we landed. 

The Avengers Facility in upstate New York like an old friend, a place of momentary refuge. A safehouse to regroup, and figure out our plan.