captain america one-shots/imagines

"I'm not a hero."

It's clear that Steve isn't himself anymore. After losing the love of his life, he wasn't able to cope. The pain was just as bad then as it was on the first day after losing you. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd showered, much less shaved. The length of his beard probably rivaled that of a caveman. He hadn't hit the gym to train once because he'd only see images of you alongside with him, the pain of not having you there was too much for him to handle. The most recent mission he'd been on was your last, he no longer feels worthy to save others when he couldn't save you. He never moved from his position on the couch unless it was to get some stale bread from the kitchen or a glass of warm tap water, or to use the restroom. Sometimes he'd get up to take his anger out on the apartment. 

He was like a ship, slowly sinking below the surface of the water. He was drowning in despair.

Natasha had been over to see him often, but he'd only slam the door in her face. This time, exactly a month after your death, she didn't give him the option to kick her out. She broke down the door, literally knocked it off its hinges.

"Steve," she said. "You've gotta get out of this apartment."

He looked at her, but didn't acknowledge her words. Leaving the apartment felt like abandoning you. He didn't want to lose the memory of your scent which was still there, faint in the apartment air. Or the way you'd dance around the kitchen to your favorite songs while making dinner. Everything in there had a thought of you attached to it, making it impossible for him to look around the room without crying.

"And you really need a shower." Nat scrunched up her nose as she slowly crept closer to Steve who sat on the living room couch. "A shave, too."

She looked him up and down, just noticing the mixture of dried and fresh blood on his knuckles. Upon further inspection, she saw holes across each wall in the room and she sighed. 

"Some bandages maybe," she added.

Her words finally seemed to register in his mind. He looked down at his hands. "Yeah, I didn't have a punching bag, so I used the wall."

His voice was hoarse and dry. It cracked with nearly each word he spoke.

Nat was hesitant with her next words, unsure of how he would react, but she decided to say it anyway. "Steve, you know this isn't what she would have wanted--."

His eyes narrowed as he cut her off. "Don't tell me it's not what she would have wanted, all right?!" She took a small step back at his outburst. "Believe me, I know that."

"Then why are you isolating yourself?" She'd finally made it to stand directly in front of Steve, only just noticing the pictures of you scattered across the coffee table in front of him.

She began picking them up one-by-one. She'd be lying if she said your death didn't affect her, just seeing the pictures immediately brought tears to her eyes. She could only imagine what seeing them everyday was doing to Steve.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a seat on the couch beside him. "You don't have to go through this alone, Steve. We're all grieving, the whole team."

He didn't meet her gaze, instead his eyes remained focused on the wall just above the TV.

"You were her hero and you still are." She couldn't tell if her words were getting through to him or not. He'd shown no sign of comprehension following his earlier outburst. 

Something must've clicked inside him because his eyes finally met hers. "I'm not a hero. I couldn't save her. What kind of hero can't save the woman he loves?"

"It wasn't your fault--."

Once again, Steve blew up at her, his voice rose and fists clenched. "Stop! Can you just go?" He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I want to be alone."

"But you're not alone, Steve, and you'll never be alone. Just let us help--."

He stood up angrily and flipped the coffee table over, scattering your photos all over the room. "I don't need your help!"

Nat jumped, but she didn't move from her spot. She waited until Steve calmed down and watched as he slowly realized his actions. He collapsed down on the couch once more, his elbows rested on his knees and his head was held in his hands. She could see his whole body tremble as the sobs wracked his body. 

She was never great at comforting others, but wrapping her arms around him seemed like the right thing to do in this situation. She did her best to hide the sounds of her own crying for the sake of her friend. She was not only mourning you, but also the loss of the Steve she'd known before you were gone.