1 Week Later
Steve Roger's a.k.a Captain America's P.O.V.
"She's still out there Tony, I'm sure of it!" I argued, following him into the lab. Pepper looked up as we entered, flashing us a pitying smile, before turning her attention back towards the stack of paperwork on her desk. She knew where our conversation was headed.
"She died, Cap. None of us want to admit that, but it happened. You...you saw it, Rogers. No one comes back from that," he said, busying himself with tons of holographic panels that updated him on the current repair status of his suit, and the energy levels of Stark Tower.
"Then what do you think that flower meant! No one had been in my room after the fight - there was no one on any of the cameras. The door didn't even register that it had opened!" I shot back, irritated that he was blatantly ignoring the facts.
"She could have left it there before the fight, Rogers! Did that ever cross your mind!? She's gone, damnit. You need to face that and deal with it," Tony spat, the room falling deathly silent, the hum and whirs of machines seeming to disappear.
It was true - it hadn't crossed my mind that she could have left the petunia there before the fight. But I needed to believe that she was still out there somewhere. She had to be.
"She's out there and she's alive," I stated, already making for the door, "and I'm going to find her."
~~~~
I took a seat on the bed, holding my head in my hands. An argument from the hotel room over seeped through the wall, interrupting my train of thought countless times. I glanced over at the glass of water that sat on the bedside table, the wilting purple petunia hanging over the edge.
"So I made a pact with him: If he didn't receive a purple petunia on his front step the day I'd said I'd return, then something was wrong. If he did, that meant he didn't need to worry and that I'd be back to see him soon."
Those words were ones I'd never forget. They had a special place in my heart, a place I only reserved for my most outlandish of hopes.
Sighing, I kicked off my shoes and fell back, pulling the blankets up and over my shoulders. I fought sleep for as long as I could, not wanting to succumb to the recurring nightmare that has plagued me for days. All I could see was her face, dripping with crimson. Her eyes shining with tears that would never fall, her tresses falling in lifless curls down her back despite the wind. The eventual slip of her feet. Her legs going limp, no longer sending signals to her brain telling it to keep her standing. The way she fell, like a small sparrow struck out of the sky with nothing to catch it...
I lifted my head, punching the pillow a few times before laying back down. I kept my eyes open for as long as possible, but, as always, the darkness snuck up and I was out cold.