no prompt today, amigos
warning; sad, i guess and it's third person
word count; 919
✧
Tony stood before (y/n), face grim and jaw tight. His helmet closed over his saddened features and the bright blue shone mechanically at her.
"Be careful," his voice echoed through the comm in her ear, "I don't want it to happen again."
(y/n) shivered at his final remark. They were currently in the Quinjet, hovering over the targeted Hydra base. She made sure her guns were loaded and she flexed her gloved fingers. A breath puffed from her mouth and she willed herself to stop shivering. This was no ordinary mission, the whole team knew it.
Clint—Hawkeye—piloted the ship to a secluded block. He turned back to the other heros, face mirroring Tony's.
"We have approximately six point three minutes to evacuate possible hostages and exterminate any and all Hydra agents. Stark, you take out drones and tanks from the sky. Once terminated, meet us inside." The archer continued, assigning everyone their duties.
"(y/n). Natasha tracked that signal you found. I sent you the location."
Clint's words seemed vague, but due to the events of the past week, she knew exactly what he meant. With a hand signal from Clint, the team filed out of the jet and sprinted to where they needed to be.
(y/n) rushed towards an entrance gate, kicking down any opposing agents who got in the way. She checked her wrist screen and followed the map Clint had sent her.
Right. Left. Left. Right. Left. Fifth door on the right.
The door led her through a corridor, cells lining each side. She gaged at the harsh scent of bile and the metallic-like blood. Glancing at the map, she found a door cramped in a corner. It was jammed shut, so she had to use her shoulder to force it open.
She scanned the small room, looking for any sign of life. Seeing the hunched form chained against the left wall, she paled and ran towards him.
She rolled him slowly to his back, taking care not to come in contact with the wound on his side. His eyes were closed, but his pained moans were evident. She pulled a small first aid kit from the pouch on her side.
She pressed two fingers to the comm in her ear, "I need a medic here. Does anyone copy? My coordinates are 24-67-34. Hello? Man down. I repeat, man down."
In turn, she received a few static words from Tony, coming on his way to her. She continued to wrap his wound, making sure it was tight. When she had done all she could to secure it, she paused, running her hand though his blond hair.
His eyes flickered open, and she leaned close to him. He slowly brought his hand to her face, the cold hand contrasting with her warmth.
"Steve? It's me (y/n). Tony is on his way, your going to be fine." She placed her hand over his own, fear creeping into her heart.
"Doll—in my house—DC. In the drawer of my desk. I have a box of letters."
"Steve, no."
"The names are on each letter. Make sure evryone gets theirs. Promise me."
Tears clouded her vision, "I can't, Steve. I'm not going to let you die. Tony—"
"—will be too late, (y/n). Please."
She cradled his head gently and placed a kiss to his lips. The kiss was in no way soft—it was messy and passionate and desperate.
"I will, if you try and fight. Stay alive. For me."
"I promise. I love you."
He smiled, but she could tell that it didn't reach his eyes. He coughed, blood staining his teeth. The makeshift dressing that she had done was beginning to soak in blood. A cry escaped her throat.
"Steve. No, please. Stay with me! Steve, please."
Tony burst through the door, mechanical arm raised. His mask lifted and she could now see his wide eyes. He ran to her hunched figure and broke the chain holding him in place. He carried Steve's form gently and motioned for her to follow him. He lead her though a quicker route to the jet, not yet saying a word.
✧
The funeral felt as though it passed within an eternity. Tears had continued to fall down her face the whole reception. When it had been her time to give her speech on how great Steven Grant Rogers had been or some bullshit pretending that everything was fine, she broke down, crying about how he had promised to stay alive.
Bucky held her tightly in a hug that they both needed.
When it was over, she went to his apartment to find the box of letters before everything was taken away. She found it where he had said it would be.
The box looked very neat yet vintage. There was a stack of letters inside, addressed to everyone of Steve's friends. She found her towards the bottom of the pile.
Dear (y/n),
If you are reading this, then I am so deeply sorry, for I am likely dead as you read this. Know that this is not the end, and I wish you a successful future. I will be with you, every step of the way. I love you, so very much, and I hope you can forgive me.
With all my love,
Steve
✧
there will be no part two, this is me attempting to write something sad. sorry.