Imagine If You Assembled the Avengers: Volume 1

I Regret Everything, Yet Nothing (Rogers/Stark x reader)

When Steve opened his eyes for the first time, well, the first time after his recovery, he opened them to a lie. He was met by a man named Nick Fury, who spoke of a world that still needed him and asked him to serve, though he wasn't exactly sure who he was following. But in his loss and in his desire for anything familiar, he dove back in, finding only a small amount of comfort in the formality and structure of servitude. When he opened his eyes, he had thought of you and the regret that filled him now and would fill him each day forward. He had never told you how he felt, and it was his fault that you were gone. He began to believe that it was better that you never knew. He pushed your memory from his mind and charged forward.

When you opened your eyes for the first time after being recovered, you immediately searched for Steve. You had been together when the plane crashed; remembering him telling you that he was sorry, and how it was all his fault, even though you had chosen to go with him knowing the risks. You remembered his last conversation with Peggy and how it stung, feeling a stab in your heart with each word. You had loved Steve but never told him, and even in your last moments you couldn't, not wanting to take his last words with her away. Like Steve, you were met by Nick, promising that there was a place for you in the world, and taking it without hesitation. You were brought back to life a year before he was, as they continued their search for him.

Neither of you had known that the other was alive, and it didn't seem to be an accident.

~~~

"Steve, it wasn't your fault."

"Did you read the reports?"

"Yes," you replied quietly.

"Then you know that's not true." He reached up to wipe his nose quickly, allowing a few tears to escape down his cheeks before he could catch them. You had known Steve for several years now, and you had never seen him like this. He was uncertain and meek, hurt and vulnerable. It was so striking that you had difficulty just being next to him without feeling it with him.

You leaned forward in the chair to be closer, reaching your hand out to touch him, but pulling it back before it connected, unsure if he would welcome it or not in his current state. "You did everything you could. Did you believe in Bucky? Did you respect him?"

Steve looked like you had slapped him across the face, his eyes wide in disbelief that you would even ask. "Then stop blaming yourself. Allow him the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you were worth it."

You shot up in your bed, panting and looking around in the darkened room to see anything that would orient you to real time. The images in your mind were so real, so perfect, that you swore you were there again. It was such a profound sensory experience, that you could still smell the alcohol that Steve had been drinking. You touched the bed around you, willing your mind to return to you.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," you sighed, reluctantly flopping back heavily onto your pillow. "Just a bad dream."

~~~

"I read about what you did."

"Oh, the...yeah, well...that's you know, just doing what needed to be done." 'Smooth, Rogers. Real smooth', he thought to himself, 'it's just (Y/N), calm down or she's gonna figure it out.'

"It sounded like more than that. You saved nearly four hundred men," you said with a smile, standing from your chair and dropping the newspaper on the desk.

"Really, it's not a big deal," he coughed. It was actually endearing to see that you could make him so nervous. Maybe it was the uniform, or maybe it was your pride in your friend, but you saw him in a whole different light.