Steve Rogers/Captain America One Shots

Midnight Moments

The compound echoed with the sound of silence. The hallways still and the atmosphere unmoving within the secure walls, and yet, the once comforting quiet of the nighttime hours, felt unsettling to Steve Rogers now. For the silence that swirled around him seemed to whisper to him in the darkness. Voices... so many voices... that sent shivers up his spine at the memories of the faces triggered in the very core of his mind. It was like he was walking through a nightmare, the friends he lost haunting him like a ghost sent from beyond the grave. They cried out to him in the silence, and the noiseless void felt heavier than anything Steve had ever experienced. For the further he walked through the daunting nightmare, the more he felt his chest constricting. As though someone had a grasp on his lungs, and held them so tightly that he had to gasp for each breath. Steve willed himself to wake up; from the physical pain burning through his body and from the heart-retching agony in his head. But he was already awake. This wasn't a nightmare... this was real life. 

Steve's bare footsteps slowed down, as he began to turn the corner leading into the first level living room. It was a small room, something rare in the large scale in which the compound sat. But it was warm, and intimate and a small space that Steve valued from time to time. But what brought his wandering steps to slow, was the sight of the lamp beside the single couch glowing in the darkness that encased it. It was a dim lightbulb encapsulated in a cream colored shade, but the little light was enough to paint rays against the far wall and cast shadows against the single soul who sat beside it. The left side of her body bled into the darkness of the night, as though she wasn't even there. But the right side of her was lit by the soft glow. And it made the tears that slid down her pale flesh sparkle faintly in the light. Like that of headlights shining upon a rain puddle along a slick backroad. Glimmering just faintly as the single beam of light grazed upon the water. 

"What has you up so late?" 

His soft voice traveled through the small room, from where he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed loosely. But his words hit the air louder than he had intended them to, for he watched as she nearly jumped out of her skin at his sudden presence. Her head whipped around, and her eyes fell upon him. And the glow of the light graced all of her face now, allowing Steve to witness the fresh tears and the raw redness and the swollen nature of both her beautiful eyes. But her lips were parted in surprise, and Steve watched as her hands lifted to quickly flick away any evidence of her sadness. But even as her fingers wiped at the teardrops that had yet to dry against her pale complexion, she couldn't erase the pain that had presented itself across her face and in the depths of her eyes. She could get rid of the physical remnants, but when it came to what she was suffering from inside, that she couldn't keep from releasing into her appearance. 

"I could ask you the same thing." She replied softly. And Steve could hear the faint tremor still trailing in her voice from the constriction of unreleased tears in the back of her throat. 

Steve blinked and dropped his gaze to his bare feet, nodding his head imperceptibly at her choice of an answer. And letting a soft sigh pass through his dry lips, Steve walked slowly towards her. His hands buried deep in the pockets of his deep navy pajama pants, as he shuffled against the cool hardwood beneath him. He could feel the warmth of the light as he reached the couch, and watched as she scooched timidly over to allow him to sit beside her. But he stood there a moment, in the dense silence, as he looked at his feet and the edge of the coffee table that had entered his view line.   

"It's too quiet for me."

Steve squeezed his eyes together tightly as he breathed a harsh breath out from his nostrils, before reopening his eyes just as his head lifted. His right hand escaped from the pocket of his pants, and ran a messy trail through his already disheveled brownish-blonde locks.  Pulling slightly at the strands, for he could feel the faint sting of the protest coming from his roots.