Quiet and reserved, heart hammering and gaze fixated on the floor. That's how Janie sat in the living area of the Avengers facility when everyone, including the man she dreaded facing most of all, was briefed on the situation that lay in front of them. She felt his eyes burning on her the entire time, a sensation that sent tingles through her spine, causing her body to tremble in fear. He longed to speak to her, hold her in his arms as if she'd never left, but all she hoped was for him to have moved on. The idea of him sitting around, waiting for her to return was one she'd rather not think about, yet unbeknownst to her, that's exactly what he'd been doing all along.
His teammates had long grown tired of Steve's continuous sulking. The sad glances, curt responses and overall negative attitude he seemed to now permanently carry with him upset them, because trying to pull him out of the downward spiral felt like beating a dead horse; even Wanda stopped trying to search his mind when all she could hear was Steve's thoughts of self-hatred and pity. Nat had to stop him from bailing on them more times than she could count, including the two times she had to chloroform him and drag him back to the motel they'd rented for the evening with great effort and annoyance.
"It's time to gear up," Natasha spoke, "Are you okay?"
When Janie finally dared to look up from the clammy hands folded messily in her lap, she noticed the room had cleared. Even Steve, who'd been standing against the door frame earlier with his arms crossed over his chest had disappeared, sending a jolt of guilt through the girl still seated in the leather armchair. She blinked and nodded, rising finally with reluctance. Natasha wanted to say something, but the gnarly atmosphere still hung in the room like a heavy cloud of smoke fueled by tension thick enough that one could almost physically see it. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, offering only a pitiful smile and a soft shoulder squeeze that did nothing to ease the pain. Then, when she finally did speak, the only words that left her mouth were the directions Janie needed to the room in which she could gather herself.
She stalked through the hallway, allowed half an hour to take a brisk shower and get changed into her gear before all of them were supposed to meet outside. With heavy steps, Janie ascended a flight of stairs that led into another hallway, which was again deserted. No key was needed to open the door to room number 7. The finger pad somehow recognized her thumbprint, turning the screen from red to green upon a single touch, allowing her to open the door, which slid seamlessly into the adjacent wall.
Her gear was laid out on the bed, a navy blue tactical suit that looked like Natasha's without the buckles, and a pair of boots that sat on the floor in front of it. She wondered briefly what Steve was doing, whether he was thinking of her or not, but the thoughts didn't satisfy the curiosity she inevitably held inside. Instead, they only fueled her guilt. She looked down at her bare feet when her thoughts took her to the dreams she had of pulling the trigger and noticed remnants of cherry red nail polish showing on her toes, which she wiggled inside the neon orange flip-flops she wore.
"I never thought I'd see you again."
Janie stopped dead in her tracks and whimpered audibly when the voice of the man she'd been trying to avoid for over two years filled her ears at last. Her first instinct was to shut the door behind him and run far away, but her arm wouldn't move to grab the handle and her feet were nailed to the floor. She swallowed a lump in her throat and bit her bottom lip harshly, taking it between teeth that sank down on it to distract her from the emotional turmoil inside her head. Their reunion was inevitable and she knew it, yet she'd hoped she could've been able to put it off a little longer or avoid it all together at least until after the fight.
He'd changed. His eyes and skin had a certain dullness to them as if he hadn't been sleeping or smiling much. His jaw was tense, hair long and messily slicked back out of his face with cheap hair wax. She hardly recognized him with a beard, yet it was him, the face she'd tried so hard to forget looking straight at her from the corner of the room. She knew immediately Natasha was to blame for his current presence. Hell, perhaps everyone had conspired against them out of frustration. Put them in the same room to see what would happen.
"Steve," she finally breathed, unable to continue for her voice would surely crack and she crumble into nothing.
He shushed her instantly with his expression, hardly daring to take a step forward, afraid of pushing her further away from him. Instead, he paced beside the bed, walking back and forth towards the nightstand and away from it in long strides. He hated the way she'd just said his name, breathless and sad and upset. It made his stomach turn and his skin crawl.
"I think I love you," he blurted out, "I've loved you ever since you were convinced I was a fireman when you were in the hospital. Damn it, I've loved you since I carried you out of that building, and I cannot allow you to walk out of my life!"
Air was knocked from her lungs when Janie heard the words falling from his lips and into her head, where they spun faster than a washing machine, making her feel dizzy and nauseous at once. She stumbled, grasping the door frame with her fingers in a desperate attempt to stay upright. She couldn't fall even if she wanted to, however, because Steve had dashed across the room to grab hold of her before she could topple over, his fingers pressed tightly against the delicate skin of her forearm.
He stood so close she could feel his breath across her forehead. She could smell his cologne, the same one he used to wear before she left, and the heat that permanently radiated off of him warmed her insides even now just like it did then.
"I needed to tell you that because this may not end well for us and this might be my only chance. I won't let it happen to me again, I can't."
His lips tasted the same, sweet as honey and they melted like caramel against Janie's when their mouths met in a chaste kiss. His beard felt rough and scratchy against her cheeks and chin, as did his hands, which instinctively wrapped around her lower back, causing her shirt to ride up. He used his hands to press her closer to him and suddenly she could smell Old Spice deodorant and leather.
The dullness in his eyes vanished, making way for a malicious glint when Steve opened them to look at her. He broke away from her, taking this time to push her harshly against the wall with a calloused palm against her shoulder. Janie inhaled sharply in surprise, worry flooding her face when she looked up to meet his gaze. He knew exactly what he wanted to do and how to do it, but the silence in the room stopped him.
"Don't ever leave me again, you hear me?" His tone was serious, brow furrowed as he leaned his forehead against hers.
"You should've forgotten me, Steve. I tried to kill you! Would've if I got the chance." She whispered, eyes tearing up and heart beating like a drum.
"Don't you think I tried that? I tried every damn day to get over you, but I couldn't let you go. Instead, I tried everything to find you, and even when Natasha wouldn't tell me where you were, I still couldn't stop caring for you."
Janie looked down, but Steve's hand under her chin forced her face upwards, "When you tried to hurt me, it wasn't you. HYDRA took control of your mind and forced you to do it. I know you would never hurt me intentionally."
She didn't reply, unsure of what to say. Instead, she wiggled out of his grasp and towards the bed, where she sat down while he admired the raw tinge of pink on her lips from where he'd kissed her and her eyelashes, wet and matted from the tears that had spilled across her plump cheeks. He loved it, seeing her vulnerable and real, because he hadn't seen it in far too long, but hated it at the same time, because inadvertently, Steve was the cause of the tears that accompanied her sorrow, and seeing her sad crushed him.
He didn't even notice he was holding his breath until his lungs began to protest against the lack of oxygen, and he inhaled deeply, shakily.
Did she regret the kiss? No, she didn't, but the guilt largely overshadowed the want, and so she sat there, counting to sixty inside her head before finally getting back up off the bed. Immediately, she headed for the shower, with only seventeen minutes left to get ready before departure. Steve sighed, shoulders sagging when she walked away from him, and began to turn for the door when her voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Stay," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.
And so he waited, pacing back and forth across the room, a dazed look of incomprehension in his eyes, which scanned the white stone walls, grey carpet, and the overhead lights, which were cupped in wire and strung from the ceiling in three different places. Five minutes felt like five hours while he waited and when she finally came out of the bathroom with her hair freshly washed and dripping water onto her pale, bare shoulders, he nearly cried.
She didn't tell him to look away as she got dressed. The tactical suit fit snugly around her damp body and the color reminded him of his shield, which he abandoned long ago, just as he abandoned her when she needed him the most. She pulled on the boots and swiftly adjusted the laces, pulling and tightening them to fit her feet comfortably before lacing them and zipping them up.
"I don't want you to fight," he mumbled, voice low and dangerous when she finally approached him.
"Steve..." she sighed, placing a warm hand on his cheek that grazed his beard.
"I'm serious," he leaned into her touch, "I only just got you back, I can't risk losing you again."
She chuckled dryly, which did nothing to satisfy Steve's anxiety. The feeling crept up on him like it had done when Bucky first left for war and he himself stayed behind, a bubbling in the pit of his stomach that transformed into cramps and knots beyond his control.
"I have to help. I don't like it either, but it's the least I can do," she explained, "I owe it to you."
"Promise me you'll stick with me," he pleaded, "have to keep you safe."
She smiled slightly, a sight he never thought he'd see again, warm and kind and so wonderfully gentle, and said, "I'm not fragile anymore, Steve."
He nodded, "I know."
But the serum inside her was unpredictable, and he knew she hadn't been training. It would be her first mission, thrust into a world she previously had no part in and the Captain inside him dominated his brain, refusing to believe she could handle herself in a fight against Thanos and his army.
The fact that she didn't sound the least bit alarmed frightened Steve to no end.
He took her hand in his palm, squeezing it, "promise me. Please."
"Fine," she agreed, "If you promise me to focus on the task."
He told her he would, but if his fingers could've crossed behind his back, they would've. He'd rather die to Thanos than see her hurt, both of them knew it. The Captain's promise meant nothing, not anymore.
The flight to Wakanda took several hours, during which Natasha led Janie to the back of the Quinjet so they could train before the fight. Together, they went over the basics of combat; footing, defense, offense and they sparred briefly. Natasha shoved a gun in Janie's hands, but quickly took it away after Steve's glare could cut the tension in the room. Then, she sneakily forced two knives into the woman's tactile suit instead. Admittedly, this was the time for Janie to become nervous, a feeling which didn't subside as they set foot on Wakandian soil for the first time.
While Shuri got to work on removing the soul stone from Vision's forehead with Wanda as her protection, the rest of the Avengers and Wakandians gathered in the field, where Thanos' army quickly gained on them. The force field that separated them from the aliens that stormed out of gigantic spaceships that gathered in the forest up ahead after they rained from the sky like meteorites and struck so hard the ground shook.
The fight passed in a blur. Janie couldn't remember how many of the disgusting, vile beings she killed with the knives, but the purple blood that stained the blades gave a good indication. She jumped on top of one of them when it got a hold of Steve and plunged both blades into the thing's neck, allowing him to kick it away, where it died in the grass not long after she followed it to retrieve the knives. He hardly recognized the soft, gentle woman he'd grown so fond of when she hovered over his body, blood staining not only the blue tactile suit but her blonde hair and her cheek as well. He took her hand, even though he could get up just fine. He wanted to remember what her grasp felt like.
She nodded towards Bucky, whose presence was even more daunting than Steve's. Everything about him reminded her of what she - what they - did, everything from his long hair and metal arm to the machine guns in his hands. She felt guilty towards him too, should've stopped Zemo before he could brainwash him, but she didn't stop him, and the fight didn't falter long enough for her to apologize to him.
Her stomach sank when Thanos himself punched her so hard she was flung backward into a tree. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, all air having been knocked out of her lungs. He took down the Avengers like it was child's play, even Steve couldn't do enough damage to Thanos to immobilize him long enough for them to get the stones. The super soldier serum wasn't enough to even make a dent, let alone knock him out. Hell, even Bruce and Thor couldn't hurt him enough to do permanent damage.
The deafening sound of the snap caused chills all over Janie's body. Her eyes met Steve's immediately, fear striking his face when the clearing turned silent. She began to crawl towards him, for surely her knees would buckle had she tried to stand up from the bed of leaves. She cried out when she felt her toes begin to tingle, warmth spreading over her like stepping into a hot bath.
"Steve," she cried out, arms flailing when she tried to grab a hold of him, "what's happening?"
Behind her, Bucky vanished, his body morphing into a cloud of ashes carried away by the wind.
Steve let out a cry when he saw her feet disappearing, "No!"
"It's okay," was all she managed to mutter before she disappeared in front of him, succumbing to the darkness that surrounded the world.