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sunriserose1023 · 5 years

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Burden of Proof (3)

WORD COUNT: 6258 WARNINGS: Legal talk, language, AUTHOR’S NOTE: Herein starts more drama. The familial ties will be explained later on in the story, in case anyone gets confused. Keep your mind opened, okay? Love you guys.

MASTERLIST Read this story on Ao3 HERE.

Steve glanced up from the table he’d been using as a desk as the door to the conference room flew open. Steve took in a breath, leaning back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Bucky walk in, pace for a moment, then lay his hands on the table across from Steve.

“What in the goddamn hell were you thinking?”

Steve sighed, letting his arms uncross. He shook his head and spoke in a low voice.

“I don’t know.” “What do you mean you don’t know?” “I panicked.”

Bucky’s blue eyes went wide and he shook his head.

“So … what? You thought that up right on the spot? Just pulled it out of your ass and the judge went along with it?” “I couldn’t let her go to jail, Buck. And there’s no way she could have paid a five million dollar bail.” “But Pierce tacked that on anyway.” “Yeah, I’m taking care of it.”

Bucky’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. He leaned forward, inches from Steve, hissing the words in a low whisper.

“Tell me you’re not paying her bail.” “Buck—“ “Tell me you’re not paying bail for your client who just happens to be your ex-girlfriend.” “Of course not.”

Bucky stayed where he was, lifting one eyebrow. After a moment of intense staring, Steve sighed as he acquiesced.

“Tony’s paying it.”

Bucky sat down in the chair across from Steve, putting his face in his hands.

Steve sighed as he shook his head.

“He’s doing it anonymously, as a favor.” “Yeah, because that won’t be suspicious at all, right? Of all the people, you’re getting your brother to pay her bail?” “He’s doing it anonymously and who else do you know who has five million just laying around?”

Bucky shook his head.

“You don’t need the whole five mil. Just ten percent.”

Steve shook his head.

“No, Pierce made a stipulation where it had to be the whole amount. He’s got it out for her and I don’t know why.” “Pierce and Rumlow were really close. Maybe that’s why?”

Steve nodded.

“Well, I’m determined to find out.”

Bucky nodded, and Steve picked up his pen, tapping it on the table before looking to Bucky.

“So how long was it after court was adjourned that Clint called you?” “About three and a half minutes.”

Steve smiled, glancing away and exhaling. Bucky licked his lips, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles.

“You still love this girl?”

Steve shook his head.

“I haven’t seen her in fifteen years, Buck.” “Evading the question.”

Steve lifted his shoulders.

“I don’t know her anymore.” “So you’re just not sure if you still love her.”

Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky straightened in the chair, turning to tap his finger against the table.

“This is the girl you kept a picture of in your gear through every tour we did. You wrote her letters and drew her picture on goddamn napkins and scraps of paper and even in the sand that one time.�� “I was a lovesick teenager.” “We were there for eight years, Cap. You grew the fuck up faster than any of the rest of us. That’s how you got to be a captain at such a young age.” “And what about you, Sarge?”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“This is not about me, Counselor. This is about you and the hole you’re digging yourself.” “Hole or grave?”

Bucky exhaled when Steve met his eyes. Bucky shook his head, then leaned closer.

“You know I’m here. Anything, anytime, I’ll back your play.”

Steve nodded, a smirk on his face.

“‘Til the end of the line?”

Bucky smiled, propping his elbow on the table and reaching a hand out. Steve smiled, reaching out and clasping Bucky’s hand. Bucky nodded.

“‘Til the end of the line.”

Steve nodded as the smile slid from his face. He gripped Bucky’s hand tightly, and Bucky nodded again, the smile gone from his face as well. Bucky started to speak, but Steve shook his head, glancing down at the table and speaking low.

“Not here.”

Bucky nodded, letting go of Steve’s hand and sitting back in his chair.

“Do we need to go see about her?”

Steve shook his head.

“Did you meet Officer Carter?” “The chick?”

Steve gave Bucky a look and Bucky smiled.

“Yeah, I met her. She’s the one who gave me the rundown on Y/N when they first brought her in.”

Steve nodded.

“She’s sticking with her while they process everything. Promised she’d get her to me in one piece with no more bruises.”

Bucky nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That Rumlow did a number on her, didn’t he?”

A muscle in Steve’s jaw ticked as he gave a terse nod.

“Sure appears that way.”

Bucky watched Steve pick up his pen and write on the legal pad in front of him. Bucky licked his lips, keeping his eyes on Steve.

“How long were they together?”

Steve shook his head.

“She hasn’t said yet. I’ve got to sit her down and get the full background. Or else get Natasha to do it, if Y/N’s not comfortable with me.” “Why wouldn’t she be comfortable with you?”

Steve smiled, not taking his eyes from the legal pad.

“A lot’s changed in fifteen years, Buck.” “Clearly.”

Steve lifted an eyebrow, flicking his eyes to Bucky. Bucky shrugged, shaking his head.

“That woman in there is nowhere near the little spitfire you used to talk about.” “Yeah, I know.” “What happened between the two of you, anyway?”

Steve blew out a breath.

“I don’t have time to regale you with stories of my glory days, okay? I’ve got a murder trial to prepare for, a client to establish trust with, not to mention how I’ve got to figure out what the hell actually happened last night.”

Bucky pursed his lips and nodded slowly.

“Right, right. You’ve got a full plate. But hey, lucky for you, you’ve got a clear schedule and a top-notch babysitting job while this whole fiasco goes down.”

Steve stopped writing, swallowing hard, that muscle in his jaw ticking again. Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of the chair and to a standing position.

“Unclench, will you? You’re not in this alone. I’m on it, Clint’s on it, maybe we can get this chick cop on our side. Not to mention … oh, did I forget to mention what’s waiting at your place right now?”

Steve glanced up, eyebrow raising. Bucky bounced his eyebrows, a shit-eating grin on his face when it finally occurred to Steve. Steve sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and wincing.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

Bucky laughed, barely restraining himself from clapping with glee. Steve put his face in his hands, cursing again before he slapped his hands against the table and stood up, gathering his things into his briefcase.

At the sound of a quiet knock at the door, the men turned. You and Officer Carter stood there, and you fiddled with the strap of your purse that was over your shoulder. Steve nodded towards you.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, and Officer Carter stepped into the room.

“Someone will be coming by your place tomorrow morning. I don’t know the exact time, but …” “You wouldn’t tell me if you did.”

She smiled and nodded, and Steve gave a single nod. He stepped around the table, holding out a hand, noticing the way you tried hard not to flinch. Officer Carter put her hand in his and he gave a firm shake.

“Officer Carter, thank you for all your help.” “It was no trouble, and please. Call me Sharon.”

You glanced to Bucky, pressing your lips together in an attempt to hide your smile when he rolled his eyes. Sharon turned and left the room, and Bucky spoke up, voice high-pitched and grating.

“Please, call me Sharon.”

Steve shook his head.

“Don’t start.” “She’s the one who started it. Blatantly eye-fucking you right here in front of me.”

You giggled, pressing your lips together again to stop the sound. Steve met your eyes and you immediately glanced away. He swallowed, grabbing his briefcase from the table as he walked around it, coming to stand beside you.

“Come on, let’s get—“

He laid a hand against the small of your back in order to lead you from the room, and you gasped, clutching your purse tighter, flinching hard away from him. Steve stopped talking, stopped moving, and Bucky closed his eyes as you shook your head, eyes wide and lips trembling.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m so sorry, I just — I-I’m sorry.” “You’re fine. It’s fine. Don’t apologize.”

You stared at the floor, quick breaths making your chest heave. Bucky’s heavy boots stepped into your line of sight and you stared at the frayed ends of his laces before he crouched down, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“You alright?”

You gave a jerky nod of your head and he held out a hand. Your hand shook as you moved it, holding your breath as you laid your palm against his.

“Breathe.”

His voice was soft and gentle, and you nodded, giving a shaky exhale. He closed his hand around yours, slowly tightening his grip as you focused on regulating your breathing. Bucky straightened, and you fought the urge to tug your hand back, noticing how he towered over you.

Brock had towered over you too, something he’d often used to his advantage.

“Breathe, sugar.”

You nodded as you did as he asked, closing your eyes.

“You’re safe now, Y/N. Whatever happened to you before will never happen again.”

Tears came to your eyes at that, praying that he was right, that little voice inside you that sounded so much like Brock laughing, sneering, saying there was no way someone like you would ever truly be safe. You gave an almost silent whine, a gasp leaving your lips and your eyes flying open when Bucky’s nails dug into your hand. You blinked up at him, and he smiled.

“I’m sorry. I could see you slipping into your head again and I didn’t know how else to stop it. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You swallowed as you shook your head. You blinked, looking down at your hand. You took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, looking up and meeting his eyes. You blinked a few times before speaking softly.

“He never touched me without some malice behind it. If we were in public and he touched my back, it meant I was in for it when we got home.”

You swallowed, shaking your head.

“Even now, I can't just accept ‘normal’ touches. Wanda’s gotten to where she’ll hug me and I try so hard not to flinch. I thought I was getting better—“ “Hey, don’t.”

You looked to Bucky, who smiled as he shook his head.

“Healing happens at weird paces. Letting Wanda hug you is one thing. Steve touching your back without knowing what that used to mean is completely different.”

Your eyes widened. You’d forgotten that Steve was even in the room. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing with one arm around his chest, the other arm propped onto it, his chin resting on his fist. You swallowed.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded, grabbing his briefcase again.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here while we’ve got the chance.”

You nodded, and he side-stepped you to walk out of the room. You closed your eyes and Bucky stepped up beside you.

“I don’t know for sure, but I’ll bet there’s a throng of reporters out there. I’ll do my best to shield you, but I’m going to have to touch you to do it, okay?”

You nodded.

“I’m fine if I can know it’s coming.”

Bucky smiled and nodded, pointing towards the door, in the direction you should go. You ignored the faces of the officers you and Bucky walked by, shifting your eyes to the floor and trusting Bucky to lead you.

Steve unlocked the door and pushed it open, holding it for you to walk inside. Your eyes widened as you made your way through the door, mouth dropping open just a bit. Steve cleared his throat, closing the door behind you.

“I know it’s not as big as you’re used to, but…”

You gave a soft chuckle.

“My apartment could fit here in the foyer.”

Steve nodded, tossing his keys onto a side table.

“Well, it’s not Park Avenue, but it’ll do.”

You swallowed, a cold sensation coming over you as your mind comprehended what Steve meant. You gave a nod, watching as he glanced down at his briefcase. He lifted his head and nodded towards the hallway.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do, so … make yourself at home.”

You slowly nodded, fiddling with your purse strap before speaking in a shaky voice.

“Can I … do you mind if I use the phone?” “They didn’t give yours back?”

You swallowed, looking down.

“I don’t have one. Couldn’t afford it.”

Steve slowly nodded.

“Go ahead. I’ll be down in my office if you need me. Fourth door to the right.”

You nodded without lifting your head, closing your eyes when Steve sighed and walked away. You licked your lips and lifted your head, willing yourself not to cry. You turned the opposite direction from where Steve had gone, finding a large sitting room.

The decor was masculine, warm somehow, and everything you’d expect from Steve. You set your purse on an end table, walking to the wall of floor-to-ceiling glass, staring at the skyline, the view of the Hudson. You glanced down, the cars on the street below looking like tiny toys, immediately feeling your head spin. You laid a hand against the cool glass as you closed your eyes, then slowly sank to the floor, sitting with your back to the windows and your legs crossed, wrapping your arms around your torso.

You were fine.

This wasn’t the house you shared with Brock. This wasn’t the cold marble mansion that had been your prison. This was a warm place with a view. You could look out the windows here. You were allowed to look out the windows. You didn’t have to do anything to earn it, and there was no way you’d be punished if you did something wrong.

You didn’t know when you’d started rocking back and forth, or when the tears had started, but with your eyes closed and your mind churning, you missed hearing other footsteps enter the room.

“Mrs. Rumlow?”

You gasped as your eyes flew open, as a woman in a dark blue dress knelt in front of you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You blinked, slowing your rocking, taking in the beauty of the woman before you. She had dark hair that curled away from her face, dark eyes and painted red lips. She had a gentle smile on her porcelain face and you blinked as you tried to remember where you were.

“You’re in Steven’s penthouse. He brought you here just a few moments ago. Do you remember that?”

You slowly nodded, soothed by the gentle tone of her British accent, loosening your arms from around yourself. You looked around, trying to regain your bearings and the woman spoke softly, resting her arms on her knees.

“I’m Margaret Carter. Peggy. I’m a friend of Steve’s.”

You nodded.

“I’m also a psychiatrist.”

You smiled, looking down at the floor.

“He must think I’m crazy.” “No, he doesn’t.”

Peggy moved to sit beside you, stretching her legs out in front of her.

“Before we get started, let me say I don’t care for the word ‘crazy.’ Too many negative undertones. I don’t think you’re crazy, nor does anyone else in this apartment.”

You looked over and met her kind eyes.

“There are a lot of people here?”

She smiled.

“Right now, yes. Some of Steve’s coworkers and friends.” “Because of me?” “Because Steve is doing his job and we’re all here in support of that. We usually have these pow-wows whenever he gets a new case.”

You nodded.

“Bet he doesn’t usually bring them home, does he?”

Peggy pursed her lips.

“Well … usually not.”

You smiled, looking down, stretching your legs in front of you. Your dirty shoes seemed so out of place next to Peggy’s high heels, and you swallowed as you closed your eyes.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” “So much I can’t put it into words.” “What about right now, right this second, what made you close your eyes and retreat into yourself?”

You kept your eyes closed, giving a shaky breath.

“My shoes.” “What about them?” “They shouldn’t be here.” “Why not?” “Because they don’t fit next to yours.”

Peggy blinked, then bent her knees, unfastening her heels and slipping them off. She looked to you and nodded, and with shaky fingers, you untied your shoes and slipped them off. You looked over to see Peggy smiling at your bright purple toes. You couldn’t help but smile, too.

“My friend Wanda insisted we have a slumber party last week. She painted my toes for me.” “I like them. Purple is a bold choice.” “Wanda picked it.”

She nodded and you gave a shaky breath.

“I need to call her. She’s probably—no, I know she’s worried. I need to let her know I’m okay.” “Yes, of course.”

Peggy pointed towards the phone and you stood up, walking to it and lifting the receiver. You dialed the number to the diner, closing your eyes at the sudden rush of tears that came when you heard Wanda’s voice.

“Thank you for calling the Scarlet Diner. This is Wanda. How can I help you?” “Wanda, it’s me.” “Y/N! Oh my god!”

You heard her muffled shout for Vis, a few seconds before she was back on the line.

“Honey, my god. Are you okay?”

You nodded, blinking back tears.

“I’m okay.” “Are you sure? God, it’s been all over the news.”

You closed your eyes and shook your head.

“I’m okay. It’s, uh … it’s a long story, but—“ “Where are you? Are you still at the courthouse? Someone named Bucky called me earlier and … Y/N, he said a lot of stuff I don’t know whether or not to believe.”

You swallowed.

“What did he tell you?” “That Steve Rogers is your lawyer. Your Steve Rogers from high school. And that you were going to trial already?” “It was a bail hearing.” “Well, I’m guessing they granted it, if you’re calling me. Oh, wait. Oh my god, is this your one phone call?! Do I need to pay your bail? I’m sure I could put the diner up as collateral—“ “Wanda, no.”

You closed your eyes as you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, at the thought of your friend willingly putting her livelihood at risk for you.

“I promise I’ll tell you as soon as I can.” “Just … are you alright? Tell me that.” “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. I’m safe and I’m not in jail.” “Where are you?”

You glanced behind you at Peggy, who was nonchalantly walking around the far side of the room, trying not to listen to your conversation, but you knew she was anyway. You looked back to yours and Peggy’s shoes in the middle of the floor and you licked your lips.

“I don’t know if I can tell you. But I promise I’m safe. Please don’t worry about me.” “You can’t ask that of me. If you need anything at all, you call me. It doesn’t matter what time.”

You nodded, closing your eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m not at work.” “Just hush about that. You’ve always got a place with me. You know that, right?” “I do. I love you, Wan.” “I love you, bunny. Stay safe.”

You hung up the phone and gave a shaky exhale.

“Are you okay, darling?”

You shook your head and looked out the window at the darkening sky. Peggy followed your gaze, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Looks like rain.”

You nodded as you crossed your arms over your stomach, walking to the window.

“I love the storms.” “Do you?”

You nodded again, stopping in front of the glass.

“The way the sky just opens up and … rages, for no reason at all. How something so beautiful can be so destructive.”

Peggy watched you, as you stared out the window, the way your eyes widened at the first burst of lightning. After a moment, you looked back to her and she gave you a smile.

“Do you think we could talk a moment?”

Steve stood outside his office door for the longest time, knowing—and dreading—what was behind it. He finally squared his shoulders and exhaled, opening the door and raising an eyebrow at the scene before him. Peggy was there, touching his shoulder as she exited almost as soon as he’d walked in. He watched her go, then turned back to the group before him.

“You called Peggy?” “Thought it might be a good idea, considering.”

Steve nodded at his sister-in-law, and Pepper pushed her chair back from the table.

“Should we have coffee?” “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

Pepper sank back into her chair.

“We’ll wait on the coffee.”

Natasha stood up from her chair, shoes clacking on the floor as she slowly rounded the table, repeating herself.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” “Nice to see you, too. Thanks for getting here so early.” “Cut the shit, Steve. Right now.”

He set his briefcase on one of the tables, reaching up to yank his tie loose. Pepper glanced at her husband, who had sank into his chair, an amused smile on his face as he watched the scene unfold. Steve turned to Natasha and tossed out his hands.

“I panicked.” “You panicked?! Steve, you brought an accused murderer into your home—“ “The judge ruled—“ “At your suggestion!”

Natasha shook her head, fiery curls shivering around her face.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

He turned to her, and they both turned to the door as there was a knock on it. Bucky stuck his head in, a wide smile coming over his face when he saw Natasha and Steve nearly nose-to-nose.

“Oh, good. We haven’t missed the fireworks.”

Clint walked in behind Bucky, waving to Tony and Pepper, taking a seat at the table. Natasha turned and pointed to him.

“Everything in this room is off the record.”

Clint rolled his eyes.

“It hurts that you think you have to say that.”

Natasha turned back to Steve, green eyes blazing.

“Since we're all here, you better get to explaining what in God’s name happened this morning.”

Steve licked his lips, reaching up to untie his tie, then unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt.

“Bucky called a little after three. Said there was a woman the police were interrogating without a lawyer.” “And you didn’t bother to ask—“ “Can I get through my own goddamn story, please?”

Natasha held up her hands, walking to her seat at the table. When she was seated, legs and arms crossed, Steve picked the story up again.

“He said she was being accused of murdering the assistant D.A. and the questioning was happening less than legally. He didn’t tell me her name, just that he thought she was innocent.”

Natasha closed her eyes, letting her head fall back. Steve shook his head, throwing out a hand toward her.

“You weren't there! You didn’t see what they were doing to her, how they were treating her!” “Since when do we take cases based on a bounty hunter’s hunch?!”

Natasha turned towards Bucky.

“No offense.”

Bucky nodded, and Natasha turned back to Steve.

“I get he’s your friend—“ “He’s my best friend and I trust him with my life. If he believes something’s not right, then something isn’t right. And I knew he’d been right the second I walked into the precinct.”

Pepper held out her hands when Natasha started to speak, and Natasha quieted down. Pepper lowered her hands and nodded to Steve. He took in a breath, speaking again.

“Darren Cross was arguing with Bucky, and I knew then that shit was hitting the fan. Anytime Cross can push the boundaries, he will. He didn’t even tell her she could have a lawyer.” “They didn’t Mirandize her?”

Steve looked to Pepper and tilted his head. Bucky sighed and spoke up.

“Cross didn’t. Another deputy did at the scene, but Cross knew he should have told her she could have a lawyer present.” “He doesn’t have to tell them that. He can interrogate as long as they Mirandize. That’s the whole “anything you say can and will be used against you” bit.”

Steve blew out a breath as he looked at his brother.

“I know that and you know that, but she didn’t. She didn’t know a lawyer could be appointed to her.”

Natasha snorted.

“The day a Rumlow needs anything ‘appointed’ to them—“ “She’s not a Rumlow. Well … not technically.”

All eyes turned to Clint, who reached into his bag and pulled out a small stack of papers.

“Most of the divorce proceedings were retracted, but it’s there. She’s a Rumlow in name only, and Brock had filed a petition to demand she change her name. She didn’t get served with the papers yet, though. They were supposed to be served …”

Clint dug through the papers before he found what he’d been looking for.

“Here. In three months?”

He said the date and Steve turned to him.

“What day?”

Clint repeated himself and Steve hung his head, whispering under his breath.

“Bastard.” “What?”

Tony raised an eyebrow when Steve looked to him, and Steve sighed.

“That’s her birthday.”

Pepper’s eyebrows raised as Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

“And how do you know this?”

Steve licked his lips, taking in a breath, letting it out slowly. He looked to Natasha and spoke calmly.

“Because Y/N Rumlow is my high school sweetheart.”

Natasha blinked while Pepper fell back in her chair. Clint turned wide eyes to Bucky, who pursed his lips and nodded. Tony leaned forward, one hand on the table.

“Y/N?”

Steve nodded, and Tony moved a hand to cover his mouth.

“Shit.”

Steve nodded again and Natasha stood, making her way towards him.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’ve brought your old girlfriend to play house with you while the rest of us try to prove she didn’t kill her husband?”

Steve looked to Natasha with fire in his eyes.

“Good to know you still uphold that whole ‘innocent until proven guilty’ shtick.” “Don’t even start with me when you’re the one who took the case that could bring everything we’ve worked for crashing down.”

Steve gave a hard laugh.

“Are you fucking with me right now? You think this—“ “You didn’t ask not one of us if we should take on this case. You just did it because you’ve got some broken-hearted nostalgia over this girl—“

Natasha sucked in a breath when Steve was suddenly in her face, and Bucky and Tony jumped to their feet, rounding the table and standing on either side of Steve, each of them laying a hand on his shoulders. Steve towered over Natasha, shoulders heaving, self-control on a hair trigger. He swallowed, taking the slightest step back, speaking in a low, but deadly tone.

“Don’t you dare even begin to think you know anything about this case, this girl, or my past. If you don’t want to be a willing participant in this, there’s the door. Feel free to get the fuck out.”

Steve pointed towards the door, and Natasha took in a breath as she stepped back, smoothing a hand down her dress. She turned and walked to her chair, sitting down in it, crossing her legs. Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder, while Tony did the same thing on the other side. Steve looked to Tony, who nodded at him.

“You good?”

Steve swallowed and nodded, and Tony moved his hand against Steve’s chest.

“Take a walk.” “I don’t need to—“ “I think I we could all use a minute.”

Steve stared into Tony’s dark eyes, then nodded. He turned and left the room, walking halfway down the hall and stopping, turning and putting his hands on the wall, hanging his head.

“Steve?”

He closed his eyes at the sound of the soft voice, shaking his head as Peggy walked over to him.

“Come now, love. Talk to me.” “I can’t do this.”

He dropped his hands, turning to face her, anguish in his eyes.

“Why did I think I could do this? Why did I … the minute I saw it was her, I should have ran the fuck out of there.” “But you didn’t.” “No, of course I didn’t.” “Why not?”

He raked his hands through his hair, speaking in a low voice.

“Because I’ve still got some high school schmuck’s view of her and I can’t shake it.” “I don’t believe that for one second.”

Steve lifted his head, meeting Peggy’s dark eyes.

“You’ve a hero complex, that’s for sure. Look at the profession you’ve chosen. The cases no one else wants, the clients who’ve lost hope. And you swoop in and save the day like some kind of superhero. This case is no different. This girl needs you, needed some hope in the darkest moment of her life, and there you were.”

Steve shook his head.

“You don’t know our past, Peg.” “Then tell me.”

He swallowed, shaking his head as he lowered his eyes.

“I can’t.” “Why not?”

He glanced back down the hall and Peggy smiled as she gently rubbed his shoulder.

“If you think I can’t stand to hear of you loving someone else, well …”

Steve smiled, lifting his head and meeting her eyes.

“It’s not that.” “Then what is it?”

He sighed.

“A lot has changed in fifteen years.” “And not just for you.”

He met her eyes and Peggy nodded.

“You need to keep in mind that Y/N hasn’t just been sitting around, pining after you for all these years.” “She married Rumlow.” “While that may be true, I do believe there’s more to that story. And if you don’t mind, I’d like the chance to talk with her, see if I can help her some.” “Of course, Peg. Anything.”

She nodded, both of them looking up when a crack of thunder sounded. Steve looked back towards the sitting room and Peggy smiled.

“She’s alright.”

Steve met her eyes and Peggy clasped her hands together in front of her.

“She said she enjoys a thunderstorm.”

Steve nodded, looking back towards the sitting room when another clap of thunder rolled.

“You’re welcome to check on her.” “No, I … I trust you.” “Steve.”

She laid a hand on his arm, smiling at him again.

“Go check on her.”

He nodded, lifting Peggy’s hand to his lips before he walked towards the sitting room. He stopped just before the doorway, straightening his shoulders. He stepped into the room, eyes darting from corner to corner, until he saw you in front of the wall of windows. He took a tentative step inside, just watching, seeing the moment you straightened, glancing over your shoulder at him. You relaxed just the slightest bit, and Steve put his hands in his pockets as he walked towards you.

He kept a reasonable distance, and you kept your arms wrapped around your torso. You jumped a bit when a flash of lightning appeared and Steve broke the silence between you.

“Are you cold?”

You shook your head, rubbing your hands up and down your arms.

“No, I’m okay.” “I want you to be comfortable here, since you’ll be staying for a while.”

You nodded, and he shrugged his suit jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. You moved a hand to touch the lapel, rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The silence settled over the two of you again, and you watched the rain come down before you spoke again.

“So your … your friends must have a lot to say, huh?”

Steve’s eyes widened as he nodded, and you gave a soft laugh. He looked to you and lifted a hand to rub at his chin.

“Natasha, she’s a coworker of mine. She had plenty to say.” “Not good, I’m guessing.”

Steve shrugged, his powerful shoulders moving under the white button-up shirt he was wearing.

“She doesn’t know the whole story.”

You nodded, looking over your shoulder when he spoke again, softer.

“Neither do I.”

He lifted his head, meeting your eyes. You sighed.

“What do you want to know?” “Everything.”

You swallowed, and he closed his eyes, a sharp exhale leaving his lips.

“Sorry, that … I didn’t mean for that to come out. I will need to know as much as you’re willing to tell me, but we don’t have to do it right now.”

You slowly nodded, letting out a sigh. You looked back to him and saw him watching you, the two of you suddenly at a loss for words.

You jumped at the crack of thunder, pulling Steve’s letter jacket closer around you, curling closer to his side. He smiled as he looped his arm around your shoulders and shoveled another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Look, the good part’s coming up.” “The last time you said that, I looked just in time to see that guy get his head chopped off.” “Jason’s a sneaky bastard. What can I say?”

You rolled your eyes, jumping again when the thunder rolled, sounding closer than it had before. You lifted your head from Steve’s chest and looked at the TV, gasping and looking away just as the masked killer appeared on the screen again.

“You’re the bastard, Steve Rogers. You knew I’d look right at the bad part!”

He cackled, leaning forward and setting the popcorn on the coffee table, maneuvering you around where you were fully in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and you gave a happy sigh as you were surrounded in warmth.

“I’ll protect you from the storm, babe. And Jason. And any other bad things.” “You promise?”

Steve smiled.

“I’ll never let anything hurt you, princess. I promise.”

You lifted your head, closing your eyes as his lips found yours. You gave a sigh, moving your hands to cradle his face, sliding off of his lap and laying back on the couch, sighing again when he settled on top of you.

You blinked at the flash of lightning through the window, breaking your eyes from Steve’s. You blinked again, blood rushing in your ears, warming your cheeks. You closed your eyes and pulled his jacket tighter around you, breathing in the scent of him. It wasn’t like what you remembered, the sporty, clean scent you associate now with high school football players. No, this was darker, woodsy, manly.

A glance behind you confirms what you already knew. The carefree kid you remembered is gone. In its place is a man carrying weight on his broad shoulders, weight that you’re responsible for bestowing on him.

You swallowed, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

“What?” “I’m sorry.” “For what?”

You blinked back tears and shook your head, turning from the window. You sucked in a breath when Steve was suddenly in front of you, and you didn’t flinch away when he lifted his hands, showing them to you before taking hold of your arms, his jacket a barrier between you two. His voice was low, steady.

“You don’t have to apologize to me. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Your eyes met his, unable to look away. He shook his head once more, stepping even closer to you.

“You’re safe here. I don’t care how long it takes for that to sink in. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you.”

You looked down, just standing there and breathing until Steve let go of you. You stepped back from him, tear-filled eyes meeting his.

“That’s what you said before.”

He narrowed his eyes and you shook your head, slipping his jacket off your shoulders and holding it out to him with a shaking hand.

“I believed you back then. But I … I can’t believe that anymore.” “Y/N.” “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He shook his head and reached out for you, both of you turning when a throat was cleared. Bucky stood in the doorway with Pepper beside him. He looked to you and motioned with his head.

“Pepper and I were going to show you to your room, if that’s okay.”

You nodded, sniffling and lifting a hand to wipe your cheeks. Steve let his arm fall back to his side, taking the jacket from you and turning his back to his friends. You hurried to Bucky and he whispered to Pepper, stepping back as she led you out of the room. When they were gone, Bucky moved forward, making his way to Steve. He shook his head and stepped away, voice trembling.

“Don’t touch me right now. Please.” “What can I do?”

Steve shook his head, balling the jacket up in his hands and throwing it towards the wall. He moved to lay his hands on the countertop in front of him, hanging his head.

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @captain-rogers-beard, @rhapsody-in-flannel, @iamwarrenspeace, @songforhema, @notyourtypicalrose, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @little-smurf, @capandbuckylvr, @anbrax5553, @hista-girl, @capsiclesdoll, @iminlovewithenchilidadas, @hookaddict, @evanstush, @james-bvcky-barnes, @shygamergirl01, @isaxhorror, @rogerstheheartthief, @icysquares, @juliae03, @cluelessnitwhit, @shhhs3cret, @superpug815, @trickstersteve, @lunatictardis, @bucky-rrogers, @ivoryhazlewood, @abschaffer2, @rainbowkisses31, @queenie4ce, @jordangrace96, @s-ecret--garden, @absolukeyrh, @evanstush, @beckastark, @missy-laine-98, @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#burden of proof series #steve rogers x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu reader insert #mcu au #marvel modern au #marvel fanfiction #female reader #marvel reader insert

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thundertempest · 7 years

Text

Cliche

“Today is going to be terrible. Everything is absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt, going to go wrong,” I said, as I climbed out of bed and turned off the alarm by my bed. And for a moment, I thought my little trick had worked. Nothing seemed to go wrong for all of five minutes while I checked my phone, and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

Then, as I was heading out of my room for breakfast, I stepped on the remains of my kid brother’s LEGO sculpture, and tumbled down the stairs.

“Motherfu-” I managed to say, before I fell into the glowing portal that had appeared at the base of the stairs, still in my pyjamas.

Welcome to my life.

----------

Usually, my days don’t start so dramatically. Heck, sometimes I even get weeks of pure, blessed normality. Well, as normal as I can be, because I don’t think I’ve aged in what feels like ten years. Every year, I turn sixteen. I’ll probably turn sixteen again this year, exactly like I did last year. I'm even willing to say that the same people will show up to my birthday party. Anyway, as I was saying; normality. Sometimes I get weeks of it at a time. But most of the time, I’m a victim of what are often the most clichéd ‘Call To Adventure’ situations you could imagine, and I can’t not follow through. Call it a morbid curiosity if you want. I’ve fallen through multiple portals to other dimensions, I’ve discovered powers inside of me that I never knew I had, I’ve lived entire lifetimes in other worlds and come back home to find that not even an hour has passed, and I’m back in this body.

But the worst thing is that after about seven or eight of these adventures, I go to sleep, and everything resets, and I’m just Casey, a few months before my sixteenth birthday. At least I can usually maintain some semblance of personality across these experiences. The closest that I've gotten to an answer is that time is sort of fluid around me. Cause and effect still happen, but exact dates are difficult.

Heck, most days I'm lucky if I remember if I have homework for school to do.

------------

I woke up on cold ground, leaves tickling my face. Instincts from countless battles half-remembered in places almost too fantastical to describe scream at me to get out of the open, to find shelter, and figure out where the heck I am.

Also, I was mentally placing bets with myself as to when the elf, or animal person, or dwarf, or whatever was going to show up and declare me the saviour of the land. Best current odds were on between ten and thirty minutes.

I stood up slowly-portals tended to leave me nauseous. The last time that I'd fallen through a glowing portal in the air, I'd moved and eaten too quickly afterwards, and spent an hour throwing all of the food I'd eaten back up. Now standing, I could begin to get a proper look at where I was. It was definitely a forest of some kind, and definitely not the kind that was around my house. Senses that I had half-forgotten sparked into life, telling me that this world had magic of some form, but attempting to manipulate it when I had no clue how it worked would be a very bad idea.

So, my very first priority was to figure out where the heck I was in this world. If there was a village or something nearby, I could use that to figure out what the heck I was supposed to do here, unless something found me first, but aside from the soft chirping of birds and skittering of animals, I couldn't hear anything approaching me.

So, time to climb a tree. Get up somewhere high, find out where the heck I am, and where I potentially need to go. I picked a tree that didn't look too difficult, and began to scale it, making my way through the canopy. Once I could go no higher, I poked my head as far as I dared out of the branches, and scanned the horizon. Nothing immediately jumped out at me in the way of destinations or things of importance.

------

"Hey-o!" said a voice, just as I was about to start my climb down. Startled, my foot slipped, and I began to plummet with a yelp.

A minute passed, and I couldn't feel anything hit me. I couldn't even feel that I was moving, so I gingerly opened my eyes. The world had taken on a greyish tint, and I seemed to be suspended in mid-air. My body was frozen in position, only my head was still free to move.

"I've stopped time for a sec. Hold on, let me get you down from there," said the same voice as before. I felt a hand grab onto the back collar of my pyjamas, and pull me down towards the ground. A few moments later, I was back down on the ground, and the man who had saved me walked into view. He was tall, but bulky. Heavy, not stringy like some of the guys at school.

"Let me just check something with you, okay? You are Casey, right?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Casey Bell?"

"Yes?"

"Casey Isadore Bell?"

I grumbled another yes. I hated my middle name.

"Great," said the man, clapping his hands together, "Now, to state the blindly obvious, you are a very long way from home, Casey."

"Yeah, no shit," I said, "please tell me you're here to help me stop this stuff happening to me and get me back to a normal life."

"Yes and no," said the man, "I can't pull you home now-you've crossed The Gap. The prophecy is in motion now, and I can't interfere directly with that. But yes, I am eventually going to get you back to a normal life, so you'll stop falling through portals, or being teleported at random."

I breathed a sigh of relief, then my mind caught onto something the man had said.

"Wait, prophecy?"

He sighed, and then took a deep breath.

"Yeah. You've probably read books, or seen films or whatever it is you kids do these days, about young teens getting pulled into fantastical worlds, to help bring it back into balance, and in the process, learn the value of self-confidence or whatever."

"Yeah, but they're just-" I trailed off as the man raised an eyebrow at me. "So all those stupid books are real?"

"Not all, but some are. Those kind of events, as I am sure you have discovered, are capable of happening."

"But that would mean magic is real. Why hasn't anyone talked about this?"

"Who would believe a seventeen-year-old girl who said she found a magical land of elves and dwarves in her closet and adventured with them to find the meaning of courage?" said the man.

"Okay, fair point," I said, after thinking for a bit, "but how do you know about all this?"

"I'm the guy who's in charge of regulating this shit. So it is, indirectly mind you, my fault that you've ended up in the situation you have. My name's Andrew, by the way."

"Your fault?!" I half-screamed, trying to reach him, but I still couldn't move anything but my head.

"Look, a few centuries ago, I implemented some automation into my job, to take care of lapsed prophecies. Somehow, the system fucked itself and they all got shunted to you very recently."

I blinked.

"At last count, this now-disabled system has given you..." Andrew paused for a minute and a glowing square appeared in the air, with what looked like computer code scrolling down it. "Eight thousand and eighty five lapsed prophecies. Now, I can't just cancel these things, or delete them. They have to be fulfilled, but the original people these were intended for either died, can't be found, or out grew the need for them. Thus, we arrive at your situation, Casey. For some reason, they all defaulted to you, but because most of them demand that you be within a few months of your sixteenth birthday, rather than lapse the prophecy again, it has somehow instituted a form of time loop."

I watched as Andrew's fingers danced over the glowing screen, swiping things left and right at almost random.

"You get from exactly four months before your sixteenth birthday to four months after your sixteenth birthday. And let's see...you've done that cycle seven times and out of the eight thousand and eighty five prophecies that you were assigned, you've completed forty-three. Wow."

"How does this help me stop this stuff from happening, though?" I said.

Andrew coughed, slightly embarrassed.

"Right. Helping you. Technically, it doesn't, but the information is helpful. However, we do have a problem."

"What's that, besides the obvious one?"

"I am technically not allowed to help any person who has been assigned a prophecy. Even me being here is technically a bad thing. Once they've crossed The Gap-the space between their world and the world of prophecy-I can't do anything to help directly." Andrew paused for a moment, and dug something out of his jacket pocket, and dropped it on the ground.

"Whoops," he said, with a half-manic grin, and then clicked his fingers, and the colour bled back into the world. Finally able to move again, I picked it up.

"The Hero's Journey- A Guide to Fiction? A writing guide?" I said, "how the heck does this-Oh. Oh, I get it."

"You're not half dumb, Casey. Not everything is going to be exactly as it is in there, but you've already gotten a sense of how this whole scene works. You are, in essence, the protagonist of a young adult fiction novel right now. Use that knowledge, and abuse the shit out of it. Prophecy magic says that you more or less have to live through this intact, so go wild. I'll be in touch with you later," said Andrew, snapping his fingers. The world instantly regained its colour, and he vanished into thin air.

---------

"Go forth, brave Casey, and hold your head high as you walk through life," said someone from over my shoulder. I wasn't sure who, because all that mattered was the portal in front of me. I felt the people that I had come to know over my fairly standard adventure pat me on the back as I strode into the portal.

Then I remembered exactly how I'd gone through the portal when I arrived.

"Motherfu-"

"-ker!" I finished, as I bounced off the last step, back in my pyjamas.

"Language, Casey!" yelled my mother from the kitchen, and I grumbled a few more curse words under my breath as I picked myself up off the floor. Despite my annoyance with the whole 'falling into portals every other week' thing, it was an escape from the drudge of my everyday life.

I shuffled into the kitchen, nursing the bump on my head as I sat down and a bowl of cereal was shoved in front of me. Partially on autopilot, I dug in, trying to remember if anything important was happening at school today.

As my mind churned through its gears, I finished the bowl of cereal, placed it in the dishwasher, and wandered back upstairs, and begun to get ready for the day at school.

'I'll be in touch with you later.' That was what Andrew, whoever he really was, had said. But he'd said he could help. And I'd certainly never met anyone who could control time like that, but there was definitely something slightly wrong about him, as my half-awake magic sense told me.

"Casey! We're leaving in five minutes!" called my mother from down stairs, interrupting my thoughts.

"Coming!" I called back, throwing my backpack on my back, and hurrying down the stairs.

------------

Found this while I was cleaning out a laptop of mine that I don’t use so much any more. Cleaned it up a bit, added some stuff, and here we are.

The initial prompt was from @jllongwrites

The prompt: Write a story where the protagonist is fully aware they’re the protagonist in a story.

#writing #fiction #thundertempest wrote a thing #trying to get back into writing a bit more #Starcraft II and Overwatch have been taking up a lot of time recently

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