After the funeral, Steve couldn't bear to see the faces of his friends' family. He was afraid of what he might see, and he knew that the previous Steve wouldn't have a problem with that. That Steve would look dead into anyone's eyes and tell them that he's sorry. But that Steve was gone.
Plus, he had more important things to do.
It had been on his mind since the plane ride to the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. And now, as he lay, face-down, on his bed, at the Barton's house, he actually considered it as a choice.
Don't do it, Steve.
Don't. Please, Bucky needs you.
The surge of guilt at how selfish he was.
But he couldn't bear it anymore. He was afraid that if he kept carrying on like this, struggling ahead just for the sake of staying alive, he would turn psychotic.
In the dead of night, Steve crept down the stairs, careful not to wake up Laura and her children, and went into the kitchen. He chose his pick, and went into the backyard silently.
The stars all around him blinked and they all looked like little eyes, watching him, judging him. Don't do it, some said. Do it, the other whispered.
And you know damn well which side Steve listened to.
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I Can Take You Home (A Romanogers Fanfic) COMPLETED
FanfictionSteve found a disheveled and wounded redhead at his doorway during 2 in the morning. It was raining, and she was drenched from head to toe. ----------------------------------------------------------------- "Who are you?" "You need to get out of...
