Chapter Text

I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night

Steve was growing restless. New York was in shambles, and while he was doing his best to aid the recovery effort, it wasn't enough to curb his deep sense of unease. To him, it was almost as if a thin film of ice still clung to his emotions; like it had once encased his body--and it was only now beginning to thaw, trickling lines of grief into his veins for a past he couldn't return to. He saw Peggy in the crimson-tinted curve of every woman's lips, Bucky in the cocksure grin of the Brooklyn boys strutting down the street--and the memories ached in ways he wasn't able to pronounce. So when Fury summoned him for a mission, Steve was glad for the distraction.
Tony, however, wasn't pleased.
"Listen here, pirate patch," he sniped at Fury, who sighed at the predictable insult. "It's been weeks since I've seen Pepper, I'm beginning to hate the sight of New York, and I'm not your metal suited pet monkey that you can just send off anywhere to do your bidding!"
Steve rolled his eyes, half-expecting Tony to stamp his foot too while he was at it.
"What's the mission?" Steve asked, crossing his arms and ignoring the still griping Stark.
"You have to find someone for me," Nick replied, swiping his fingers across the holo-screen. "A girl by the name of Cerise Solange."
"Looking for a wife, Fury?" Tony pursed his lips as he cast an eye over the photo. "Bit young for you, isn't she?"
"Why do you want her?" Steve stared at the picture-- she certainly seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.
"My operatives have reported strange occurrences around her--the people she comes into contact with--something happens to them." Nick seemed disquieted, and Steve narrowed his eyes.
"What happens?" Tony echoed Steve's thoughts.
"That's the thing, we don't know. The accounts I receive are disjointed and inconclusive--the agents I've sent into the field after her come back disoriented with their memories scrambled. As far as I can tell, she's not vicious or violent--but she's clearly not in control of whatever powers she possesses, and that makes her a flight risk. Public opinion on the Avengers is still divided--some may consider you heroes for saving New York, but there are many others who haven't forgotten you trashed the city in the process. We don't need this spreading out to the masses."
"Yes, yes, fine," Tony waved his hand dismissively. "But why does it have to be us? Specifically, why me ? Last I checked, I wasn't on babysitting duty."

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly aggravated. "Thor is off world, we can't risk Bruce turning into the Hulk, and Natasha and Clint aren't exactly what you call friendly. I don't want to use force to bring her in--or risk setting off whatever it is that she can do. She needs to feel safe."
"Oh, so this old man and I seem real cute and cuddly to you, huh Nick?" Tony said bitingly, slinging an arm around Steve. "Look at that, Cap. We're 'safe'. Guess I better amp up my bitchface from now on, I'm losing my touch."
"You're heroes," Fury corrected, unamused. "Tony, you're Iron Man. She's probably watched you on the news for years, saving lives. Steve, you're a living legend, a war hero. If she's going to trust anyone, it will be you two."
"I don't like this, it feels like I'm your errand boy," Tony said mulishly.
Steve groaned, finally tired of Tony's snark. "Come on, Stark. It's a simple mission. We'll be back in no time."
Tony scowled, unconvinced.
"Look, if you do this, I'll give you six months off," Fury gave in, evidently hoping a bribe would work. "Just bring her in. She can stay at the compound, maybe we can find someone to train her. Who knows, she could become enough of an asset to join the Avengers. Whatever the case, she can't be left to herself."
Tony cocked an eyebrow. "You mean that about the vacation bit?"
Fury flashed a rare grin. "No, but you can tell yourself I did if it makes you feel any better."
Steve laughed as he watched Tony stomp out of the room. It wasn't everyday someone got the better of Stark.

Two Days Later

Steve had said it would be simple, but it was proving to be anything but. He and Tony had already scoured the locations Fury had told them the girl was last seen, but she was nowhere to be found.
He supposed it was to be expected. One had to have had some skill to avoid S.H.I.E.L.D operatives for this long.
"I need a drink," Tony groused, flinging open the door to the dingy bar they were standing in front of.
Steve followed with trepidation--alcohol did nothing for him now, and he didn't much want to tolerate a drunk Tony Stark.
The faint strains of song sifted through the dusty air of the room, growing stronger as they approached the bartender.
Steve could make out the slender silhouette of the woman performing in a shadowy corner of the room.
He joined Tony, slumped against the bar, and gradually allowed himself to sink into the syrup-slick sensation of the singer's verses.
She had a voice like pulled taffy, sticky-sweet and golden-smooth--it settled languorously into Steve's senses like sun-warmed wine, reminding him of the songs of his time--simpler, purer, sweeter.
Steve closed his eyes, letting the words weave themselves into his memory.
"Oh, let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone,
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon,
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of,
Dance me to the end of love,
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin,
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in,
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove,
Dance me, dance me to the end of love...
A shaft of light hit Steve in the face, and his eyes flew open, catching the gaze of the now-silent singer.
Steve froze.
A long spill of ravensilk hair, eyes the color of maple leaves in the morning light and skin like sunlit honey--this was the girl from the photo Nick had shown them.
Steve gave Tony a sharp jab in the chest. "Tony it's her, the singer."
He snapped to attention, but it was too late.
Solange had taken one look at Steve and fled.
They raced after her, careening into the damp, dimly lit alley behind the bar.
"Damn it, we're losing her," Steve panted, Tony quickly losing ground behind him without his suit.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" They heard a scream, and Steve cursed as he saw a homeless man stagger his way onto Solange's path.
She was backing away from him, hands outstretched. "No- no, you don't understand, I'll hurt you, just stay away, don't touch me--DON'T TOUCH ME--"
But it was too late.
He barreled into her, trying to grab at her clothes.
And then went flying ten feet into the air, landing with an enormous crash and an ominous cracking noise--without Solange moving a single muscle.

Chapter Text

Silver Tremblin' Hands

"Stark, check if he's still alive," Steve said sharply. "I'll handle this one."
"By yourself?" Tony asked, skeptical. "You sure, old man?"
"You don't have your suit," Steve reminded him. "And besides..."
He looked at Solange, who had sunk shuddering onto the dirty pavement. "I don't think she'll be a problem."
"Go away," she said miserably, her svelte body shrinking away from Steve as he approached her with his hands held out in a placatory gesture. "I don't want to hurt you."
"We don't want to hurt you either," Steve replied. "For now, let's talk. I'm Ca-"
"Captain America, I know," Solange finished, cautiously getting to her feet. "And that-" she added, gulping, as Tony reappeared, "is Iron Man."
"You bet your ass it is," Tony agreed. "He's alive," he addressed Steve. "From what I can tell, coupla broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. Got off lucky, if you ask me-- pipsqueak packs quite a punch. I've called an ambulance, but I can't say I feel too bad for him, considering he was trying to rip this one's clothes off."
Solange let out an audible sigh of relief, but continued to eye them warily. "Why are you here?" She demanded. "I know S.H.I.E.L.D's been looking for me. I don't want any trouble, I don't--and I won't let myself be captured so you can run experiments on me and--and lock me away someplace and--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tony cut her off. "Just who do you think we are, the mafia? We're not trying to torture you."
"We just want to help," Steve added.
"You can't help," Solange said bitterly. "And don't try and force me either!" Tony tensed as she doubled her fine-boned hands into fists, but Steve could see the way they were shaking--the vulnerability lining her mouth like pink-chapped lipstick. It was palpable--it stirred something in him, some secret wellspring that he'd thought had dried out long ago.
"Cerise," He said slowly, the taste of her name heavy and strange upon his tongue, like foreign fruit. "I know you're scared," Steve tried to make his tone as non-threatening as possible. "But you don't have to be. I know what it must be like, cutting yourself off from contact with anyone because you're afraid you'll hurt them if you get too close--feeling like you're on the outside looking in at this world that seems to be passing you by--feeling like a freak. You don't have to feel that way--you can finally belong--you can feel safe. If you just give yourself the chance to."
She stared at him, jade green eyes blown wide with disbelief. "You can't mean that," Cerise whispered.
"I do," Steve said firmly. "I promise."
She had been holding her body like a tightly coiled whip, but it was now slack with shock. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't," Tony shrugged. "You're just going to have to take the risk."

~~~

"Nice neighborhood," Tony said sarcastically as they moved past the rundown buildings.
Cerise flushed. "We can't all be billionaires, Mr. Stark. It's not easy being constantly on the run."
Steve shot Tony a disapproving look.
"Don't give me that face, Rogers," Tony snapped, though he had the grace to look abashed.
"I'll just--just get my things then," Cerise said hesitantly. "It won't take too long--the landlord doesn't allow anyone but tenants inside here."
Tony narrowed his eyes. "And how do we know you won't give us the slip and run off?"
"You don't," Cerise replied sweetly. "You're just going to have to take the risk."
Steve suppressed a snort as Tony gaped at her.
"Don't you start giving me lip, brat," Tony glared. "How old are you anyway, sixteen? Seventeen?"
"I'm twenty-one, thank you very much!" Cerise's voice rose in indignation.
"Really, I couldn't tell," he said snarkily. "What with you being a midget, and all."
She huffed, jogging up the stairs of the building without deigning to give him a response.
"This one is going to be trouble," Tony griped. "I can't believe we're actually stuck on babysitting duty. We're going to have to live with her!"
"She doesn't seem so bad," Steve folded his arms, amused. "Might help if you didn't antagonize her."
"Thank you, Cap, for your scintillating input," Tony said bitingly. "That was some speech you gave back there to her. You write that shit beforehand?"
Steve sighed. "It was the truth, Stark. That's it. We've all felt it."
"Yeah, yeah," Tony waved his hand. "Let's just hope she doesn't murder us in our beds."
"I couldn't do that even if I wanted to," Cerise appeared silently behind Tony, causing him to curse. "I have no control over my powers. They only ever appear if someone tries to harm me, or if I feel threatened."
Tony ignored her response, pointing at the lump of fuzzy black fur in her arms. "What the fuck is that ?"
Cerise shot him a puzzled glance, settling the furry creature carefully into the crook of her arm. "That's Luffy, my cat."
"Oh no," Tony said fiercely. "Oh hell no. I am NOT going to live with an accursed cat in the tower. Not fucking happening. Leave it here, kid."
Cerise's mouth popped open. "What? I can't do that! There's nobody I can give her to, and even if there was, I wouldn't, I love her!"
"I don't care," Tony jabbed a finger at the animal. "It's got to go."
As if in answer, the cat hissed at him. Steve almost thought Tony would hiss back.
Cerise looked to be on the verge of tears. "Please," her voice quavered. "Luffy is all I have."
Tony was discomfited, but held his ground. "No."
Cerise looked beseechingly at Steve from under eyelashes dark and thick as soot. "Mr. Rogers, please. I swear she won't be a bit of trouble. I need Luffy--I can't leave without her. Please don't make me."
Steve shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't used to wide-eyed girls staring him in the face imploringly.
Cerise gave a desperate look at the cat, and Steve just--
Steve just couldn't.
"Let her keep it, Stark," Steve said wearily. "Look at it, it's tiny. The compound is huge and you're never out of your lab. You won't even see it."
Tony swore. "God, I knew there was a reason I didn't like you. Just for that, I'm putting her on your floor. You can stay with her. And that damned cat." So saying, he stalked back to the car.
Cerise's eyes sparkled like dew-speckled grass as she shot Steve a grateful glance. A smile blossomed into being on her face as she looked at him, lips unfurling like the petals of a nascent rose. It was a slow blooming thing, dimpled and guileless--the first smile Steve had ever seen on her. It made her honey skin glow, and Steve blinked, coming to the belated realization that Cerise was pretty.
Not that it meant much--looks had ceased to matter to Steve ever since he'd accepted that he would never get that dance with Peggy. All the same though, something in the clean lines of her face appealed to him, something that spoke of a strength of spirit that belied her soft features.
"Thank you, Mr. Rogers," she said timidly. "I won't forget it."
"Just Steve is fine," he corrected mildly. "Mr. Rogers makes me feel old."
"You are old," Tony interjected nastily. "Now could the two of you stop flirting so we can fucking leave this dump already?"
For the nth time that day, Steve rolled his eyes.

Chapter Text

Bag Full Of Thoughts

Cerise didn't know what to think.
She'd never expected this, not in a million years.
Hers had been an empty sort of life, if she looked back on it--Cerise always felt like a wraith, aimlessly drifting from place to place like the rolling gray fog on a winter's night--insubstantial and weightless. She'd been invisible, inconsequential--hadn't left a single mark upon the world. Cerise had more or less resigned herself to it--there had been no other way, once her powers manifested--it had been a weary acceptance that weighed her down like a slave's shackled feet. She didn't ever expect it to change--
But then they had come, legacies already in the making--billionaire Tony Stark and the indefatigable Steve Rogers--for her.
And Steve had pinned her with his gaze, an unfamiliar sort of empathy in his clear cerulean eyes--and spoke the words Cerise had wanted to hear all her life. The deepest wish of her heart, lodged like a splinter in her chest, a throbbing that kept her up at night--to belong, for once. To have a home. To know what it was to be close to someone--to not feel like she was a secondary character in her own story, reduced to a helpless bystander watching life pass her by.
It wasn't something she hoped anyone would ever understand--least of all stoic, steadfast Captain America, who always seemed to know what to do.
But he had. Somehow he had.
She hadn't told him of course, but Cerise'd been there during the battle for New York, huddled under a rickety, half-dilapidated fruit shop. She remembered seeing Steve, armed with nothing but his shield and his courage, fighting like he was born for it. She remembered them all, and most of all, recalled the pinpricks of envy needling into her veins watching them; and wondering, not for the first time, what it was like--not being afraid of your own power.
Steve had promised her things could be different if she gave them the chance to be--the promise itself wasn't as surprising to Cerise as the fact that she believed him. She didn't have a single reason to, but she did.
And it bothered her.
Shaking the thought off like one would an errant fly, Cerise surveyed her room with a small sigh. While it was luxurious, easily the best she'd ever seen, all sleek gray walls and silver accents--it felt cold. It felt aloof and unwelcoming--the very air seemed stiff, as if it didn't want to accommodate itself to her. The only familiar thing in the room was Luffy, placidly curled up on the foot of the bed.
"Guess this is supposed to be our home now, Luff," Cerise said dispiritedly.
The cat flicked her tail lazily, looking as if she'd belonged there all her life.
Cerise gustily exhaled. It could have been a lot worse--at least it was Steve that she was sharing space with, not Tony. He'd seemed to hate her on the spot.
She winced, recollecting how strained the journey back to the compound had been on her first night. Tony had spent the time glowering in the corner, muttering darkly about the evilness of felines. Steve had just stared out the window with a tired air about him. Once they'd reached, Tony had stalked off to his quarters in high dudgeon, and it was left to Steve to show her around the building. The tower had seemed enormous to Cerise, as if it would swallow her whole, and she'd shrunk into herself as a result, doing her best to seem invisible. It was all she knew how to do.
Steve, of course, had been nothing but courteous, telling her he was just across the hall if she needed anything. They shared the kitchen and living room, but Cerise barely ever saw him. It was funny, Cerise thought to herself--his open eyes and classic good looks were sure to engender trust in anyone, while Tony's face resembled a closed door-- but her intuition told her it was Steve who was the real enigma.
Tired of her musings, she jumped to her feet. "Time for your food, Luff." She stepped out the door--and was promptly slammed up against the wall with an earsplitting bang.
"Who are you?" demanded a husky voice, and Cerise choked, trying to pry the hand off of her neck in vain. Eyes watering, she was barely able to make out flaming red hair and pale skin before Steve came racing out.
"Nat! Natasha let her go, she's not an enemy!"
The hand at her neck fell away, and Cerise fell to the floor, panting.
The woman--Natasha, hoisted her up. "Sorry," she said, not sounding very apologetic at all as she set Cerise on her feet. "Old habits die hard. Unfamiliar face, you know."
"That's--that's okay, Miss Romanov," Cerise squeaked, doing her best to stealthily edge away from her. Judging by Steve's amused glance, she hadn't succeeded. With her skintight black gear and prowling gait, Natasha rather reminded Cerise of a panther. A panther that looked very capable of eating her, if rubbed the wrong way.
"Oh, polite, this one," the Russian spy blinked at her. "Natasha is fine, kid. What's your name?"
"Cerise," she replied, massaging her throat nervously.
Comprehension dawned on Natasha's face. "Oh, so you're the reason the boss is coming here."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "Fury's coming to see her?"
"Yeah, he's on his way." Natasha checked her phone, then tsked. "Nope, scratch that, he's here. Let's go."
Cerise balked. "Fury..? As in Nick Fury? Director of S.H.I.E.L.D?"
"That's the one," Steve seemed to sense her anxiety. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite."
"Usually," said Natasha, smirking at her.
"Stop trying to scare her, Nat," Steve admonished as they headed downstairs. "She's only just got here."

~~~
Cerise didn't know what to make of Fury. His hooded, swarthy face was inscrutable as he regarded her, his one eye fierce and piercing.
"So you're Cerise," he finally said slowly. "We've been looking for you a long time."
Unconsciously, she stuck her chin out. "I didn't want to be found."
Nick chuckled. "So what changed your mind?"
Cerise narrowly avoided meeting Steve's eyes.
"Eventually, you get tired of running. And Mr. Stark mentioned that there was a possibility you could offer me help in controlling my powers."
"Yes, about that," Tony spoke up. "I hope you're not expecting me to do anything here, Nick, cause I don't know any of this mojo shit she can do. So sorry, but I'm not playing Mr. Miyagi to her Karate Kid, unless you want me to teach her how to create tech or something."
"I don't need your help to do that," Cerise said resentfully under her breath, but no one heard.
"I do not understand that reference," Steve said blankly.
Tony rolled his eyes.
"I don't know that I could help much," Natasha said doubtfully. "I could teach her how to fight, I guess."
"Yes, good idea," Nick nodded. "She should know how to defend herself."
"Oooh we're going to have fun, kid," Natasha winked at her.
Cerise gulped.
"What about Banner?" Fury suggested. "He has considerable experience living with uncontrollable impulses."
"Oh, that's genius ," Tony drawled. "Do you really want to put the two people in this area who have no command over their powers together in one room? They could kill each other. Or us. Or both."
"We can't risk him turning into the Hulk," Steve agreed. "She can barely protect herself. I'm with Stark on this one."
Tony looked gratified.
"Thor is in Asgard and Clint's on a mission, so that leaves..." Nick's eye roved around the room before it settled on Steve. "You."
"Me?" Steve echoed, puzzled. "What can I do?"
Nick crossed his arms. "You were a soldier. You know the value of discipline. Maybe if you can bring it into her life, it might help her manage her powers."
Cerise wished they wouldn't talk about her as if she wasn't present in the room with them.
"I think you should ask her opinion," Steve said, almost as if he had read her mind. But she couldn't help looking at him with grateful eyes for his comment alone.
"I don't mind training with Mr. Rogers," Cerise said slowly. "If he wants to, that is."
Steve chewed his lip.
"Sure," he agreed easily. "I'll be happy to help out, if I can."
Steve held out his hand. "Ready to take back control, Cerise?"
Hesitantly, Cerise took his hand.

Chapter Text

For The Right Reasons

Steve startled out of a light doze with the sensation of something watching him. He rolled out of bed, every nerve on high alert--relaxing only when he finally laid eyes on what it was.
Luffy surveyed him coolly, elegantly curled upon his table across the room.
"Oh, hello," said Steve, bemused. "What are you doing in my room?"
She simply looked at him with her lamp-like golden pupils--there was an uncanny prescience to her eyes, as if even though the cat couldn't speak, it knew everything that was said around it.
Steve dismissed the foolishness of the thought, getting to his feet and approaching the animal with a healthy amount of caution. She hadn't seemed to warm to anyone, sticking close to Cerise's heels everywhere she went. She eyed Tony balefully, baring her teeth at him on the rare occasions they crossed paths, and she regarded Natasha with a wary sort of indifference. Enhanced healing or no, Steve didn't want to get scratched. So he went to her slowly.
Luffy twitched her ears, blinking lazily up at him.
"I feel like you want something," Steve told the cat. "What is it?"
She stared at him imperiously.
Luffy stretched out her neck towards him--gingerly, Steve extended his hand and rubbed her gently behind the ears.
She purred, pushing at his hand.
Steve smiled slightly, not able to shake off the ridiculous notion that he had just been conferred a great honor.
Right then, there came a tentative knock on his door.
"Come in," said Steve pleasantly, still stroking Luffy.
Cerise entered, eyes blowing wide when she spotted Steve petting her cat.
"Oh," she blinked. "I was looking for Luffy. I'm sorry she bothered you."
"It's no trouble," Steve demurred. "She's sweet."
"Luff likes you," Cerise said, surprise evident in her eyes. "She rarely ever likes anyone."
"I'll take it as a compliment," Steve replied, amused.
Cerise let out a quiet chuckle, gathering Luffy up in her arms. "Okay, I'm gonna go then."
"No, wait," Steve stopped her. "I've been meaning to talk to you about your training. I need some input from you before we can officially start."
She looked at him curiously, returning to her seat on the couch. "What do you want to know?"
"Your history, in essence," Steve answered. "When did your powers first manifest? Do you know the full extent of them? Is it just telekinesis? What triggers them?"
Cerise steepled her fingers together, looking contemplative.
"I think I was around seventeen at the time," she began. "There was...an incident," she said, voice hitching. Steve raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask her to elaborate.
For now.
"Anyway, that was the first time they appeared," she hurried on. "I sent a group of people flying into the air. As I've said before, if I feel as if I'm in danger or that I'm unsafe in any way, they tend to come out, but not always. It's a fifty-fifty chance, to be honest."
"Hmm," Steve nodded. "What about when you're angry? Do they come out then?"
Cerise frowned.
"I....wouldn't know," she said slowly. "You have to--have to talk to people in order to get angry with them, or feel anything, at all. I haven't done that. Not for--not for a while," she finished quietly, eyes downcast.
Steve's lips pulled downward. He didn't like the hollowness on her face--it didn't belong on someone so young.
Or so gentle.
It was odd, he thought, for someone with such latent ability lying dormant in their body to be so openly vulnerable. Cerise wore her fragility wrapped around her shoulders like a mantle, and it disquieted Steve, who wasn't used to transparency after living through two world's worth of people with hidden agendas.
It just didn't make sense to him.
"It doesn't have to be that way anymore. So..." he softly prodded. "Moving things with your mind, that's about it, yes?"
"No, actually," Cerise tapped her fingers nervously on the oak table. "There was this one time I shot fire out of my hands. Another I made water burst from a cylinder...and I think I might have started a storm once."
He barely repressed the urge to gape at her. Tony would have taken it in stride and made a witty rejoinder, but Steve just stared.
"Well, uh--," Steve coughed awkwardly. "That's quite...diverse."
He cleared his throat. "I can't say that cleared up much, but I do have a fairer idea of your triggers. It sounds to me like you need to sort through your emotions, because that's what your powers are tied into. I'll figure out a way to help you do that, and since Nat won't be here for more than three days a week, I'll oversee some of your physical training as well."
He jumped to his feet, causing Luffy to open one insolent eye.
"Let's begin."

~~~
"I think--I'm--gonna throw up," Cerise panted with her hands on her knees, nearly sinking onto the grass.
Steve jogged back to her. "Then throw up and keep running," he said, unfazed. "We've been doing laps for an hour and a half. You still have thirty minutes left."
Cerise, still gasping for breath, couldn't do much but stare at him in disbelief. He hadn't even broken a sweat.
She wanted to punch him in his stupidly perfect face.
He grinned at her sweaty, flushed profile, as if he knew what she'd just been thinking.
"Come on, champ. Let's go."
By the time they were done, Cerise's legs felt like jelly. By contrast, Steve hadn't even mussed up his hair.
It really wasn't fair, she thought.
Groaning, she dragged her way down to the kitchen, searching for food.
In the next ten minutes, Cerise felt a whole lot worse.
"What the fuck happened?" Tony yelled, racing into the room, Steve close behind, the sound of the smoke alarm nearly deafening.
"I don't know!" Cerise said shamefacedly, beet-red and mortified. "I just put the chicken in the frying pan and left it there.. and..." she gestured helplessly.
"Ugh," Tony said disgustedly, spraying coolant from his glove hand. "You really are a nuisance, pipsqueak."
"I'm sorry," Cerise said miserably. "I'm really sorry, I swear I didn't mean to--I'll fix it I just--" she cringed away from Tony, curving her small shoulders inward as if bracing for impact. Steve winced, preparing to do damage control for whatever barb Tony had to offer up at the moment.
But there was an unidentifiable cast to Tony's eyes as he looked at Cerise's hunched in frame.
"It's nothing I can't fix, kid," he said in a markedly quieter voice. "Maybe just--just stay out of the kitchen."
Steve watched him leave with a small smile.
Cerise avoided his gaze.
"I just wanted something to eat," she said dolefully, strongly reminding Steve of a kicked puppy.
Steve's lips twitched, but he managed to control himself.
"Maybe you should let me cook from now on."

Chapter Text

The Darkness Creeping In

Cerise had lost count of the times she'd woken up like this since it happened. It hadn't lost its potency either, the memory--or nightmare, or was it both? -- still as sharp and cutting as it had been years ago.
"Stay away from me," he stammered, backing away as fast as he was able. "STAY AWAY."
"Jer, don't be afraid of me," she begged, stretching out her hands. "I would never hurt you--I don't know how it happened, I don't--don't--please don't go. Don't leave me. Not you.
"Get away from me, freak!" Jeremy yelled, the terror in his eyes slicing into Cerise like the bite of a blade. "You're not human. You're not--not Cerise. Don't you touch me!"
"I did it to protect you," she whispered, feeling her heart quietly crumble into pieces. "I just wanted to keep you safe. You're all I have left."
But he'd already run away, his figure dwindling into the distance within the blink of an eye.
The sunlight was blinding that day, but she could almost see the darkness that would unfurl its tendrils into her life, like ink swirling into water.
She sunk to her knees and sobbed.
Cerise's eyes flicked open, the dry burn at the back of her irises an accustomed pain. The tears had stopped coming years ago, coursing through her body instead, the salt of them singeing her blood. On nights like these, she could almost imagine the sound of its sibilant hissing. She dug her nails into her palms, a habit as well-worn and familiar to Cerise as her old patchwork blanket. When she'd first begun doing it, the idea had been for the pain in her hands to distract her from the pain in her heart. It had long since ceased to work, but grooved scars were always littered across her palms now, like miniature crescent moons.
Wearily, she got out of bed. The day had barely begun, the grayish morning light only just starting to filter past her curtains, but Cerise already felt sapped of energy. Luffy batted at her ankles gently, and she lifted her up in her arms, burying her nose in Luffy's velvet-soft fur. The cat purred, nuzzling into Cerise's neck.
She breathed a little easier, chest loosening the longer she held on to Luffy. She had never been just a pet to Cerise--but rather a companion, a friend--who always had an uncanny way of managing to comfort Cerise when the shadow of her past loomed too large for her liking.
As if on cue, there came a firm rapping upon her door.
Steve poked his head in, his blue eyes clear and alert. "Morning, Cerise. Nat's here for your first lesson."
"Good morning," Cerise said quietly, trying not to let her disquiet show. "Give me a few minutes, I'll be right down."
Steve nodded, sweeping her with a brief, searching gaze. "Are you alright? You seem...upset."
Cerise gave him a wan smile. "Is it that obvious, or are you just good at reading people?"
Steve laughed. "A little bit of both, I suppose." He waited, and Cerise sighed.
"Just memories, Mr. Rogers. Isn't that all that it ever is?"
"Steve," he reminded her, leaning against the doorjamb.
He paused, mulling over his words.
"I don't know who or what it is you've left behind, and you don't have to tell me," he said carefully. "But it doesn't have to define you. You are more than the sum of what you've been through--what has been done to you or what you have done to others. You have the ability to change the narrative, to begin again--and I know you know that, somewhere deep down, otherwise you wouldn't have come with me that night in the alley. You can shape the path the rest of your life will take--anyone can, as long as they have the will. And you're not just anyone, are you?"
Something like the first faint embers of hope glimmered to life in Cerise's chest as she met Steve's eyes.

~~~
Natasha circled her slowly, reminding Cerise so strongly of a stalking panther that beads pf perspiration began collecting at the nape of her neck.
"Hmm," she mused. "You're small. Slim build--good for stealth work. Could be fast if we trained you enough. Steve's making you run, isn't he?"
"Yes," Cerise said ruefully, legs beginning to throb at the mere mention of her grueling regimen. "Every day."
"Good," Natasha nodded. "I'll be straight with you, kid. You're never going to be a fighter--not really. You're starting too late. I was trained since I was a child, most of us at S.H.I.E.L.D are. It takes years to even become half-way decent, and you don't have that kind of time. So I'm going to be brutal with you. You're going to hate it, you're going to hate me--but if you listen, and train till you drop, you might be able to keep yourself from getting killed, if the occasion ever arises. Practice like your life depends on it, Solange. Because someday it might."
Cerise swallowed, steeling herself.
"I'm ready," she said.
"Right," Natasha shrugged off her jacket. "I'm going to start you off with some basic self-defense tips, and then I want to see your reaction time to attacks."
Cerise gulped.
"The eyes, nose, groin and knees are the most vulnerable points of the human body. If you find yourself in a fight, try to incapacitate your attacker by targeting these areas. Don't be afraid to fight dirty, there's no place for honor when it's life or death. We'll be working on how to punch from tomorrow onwards, but for now, I'm going to attack you. I want you to try and stop me."
Cerise barely had time to brace herself before Natasha charged--she tried to block the blow with her arms, but Natasha deftly slipped past her defenses, punching her cleanly in the stomach.
The air whooshed out of Cerise's lungs as she collapsed onto her knees, gasping for breath.
"Again," commanded Natasha, unimpressed.
Cerise staggered to her feet.
By the time two hours had passed, Cerise was drenched in sweat--bruised, battered, and utterly exhausted. She hadn't been able to block a single blow from Natasha, nor land one of her own.
"I've seen far better," the spy commented. And then, looking at Cerise's flushed face, added: "I've also seen far worse."
She barely registered her words, slumped on the floor.
Cerise startled in panic as Natasha leaped at her in the split second she'd taken her eyes off the redhead.
"Never let your guard down!" Natasha barked, hands already set to lock around Cerise's throat.
She would have succeeded--if Cerise hadn't sent her flying backwards, her power suddenly flaring into being. Natasha would have crashed into the wall, had she not executed a perfect flip at the last minute, neatly landing on her feet.
Cerise was horrified.
"I'm so sor-"
Satisfaction gleamed in Natasha's moss-green eyes.
"Now that's more like it."
Cerise groaned, dropping to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Tony chose that exact moment to saunter into the room.
"Well, you look like shit," he greeted Cerise's prone form.
Every part of her body stinging and sore, Cerise didn't have the energy to respond.
"Nat, you need to come with me," Tony said, face actually serious for once. "We've got a mission."

Chapter Text

Hatchling Hassles

Nearly quailing under the three pairs of eyes that were currently boring into her, Cerise felt like a beetle under a microscope.
"We can't take her with us," Steve insisted, folding his arms. "It's too dangerous and she's barely started training."
"She can't stay here by herself either," Tony shot back. "This compound is only safe as long as we're here to defend it. You know people are pissed after the battle last month--they try and mob this place almost every other week."
In unison, the two of them looked at Natasha, who chewed her lip thoughtfully.
"She can stay on the Quinjet," she finally said. "Clint is gonna be joining us, and we're more than capable of making sure the hatchlings don't reach the jet. Cerise'll be fine."
Tony nodded, satisfied. "You're outvoted, old man."
Steve huffed, displeased. "This is a bad idea. We had absolutely no clue that Loki had left behind Chitauri eggs near the outskirts of the city. Even if they're hatchlings, they're big enough to cause a lot of mayhem. We need to be careful."
"We'll be careful, Rogers," Natasha promised. "Don't worry so much. You know we can't leave her here."
Steve sighed, evidently giving in.
"Fine. Let's suit up. But I don't like this."
"You don't like anything, Cap," Tony rolled his eyes.
"C'mon, kid," Natasha tugged at Cerise's arm. "You're not going to need it today, but it's time you got your stealth suit."
By the time they'd all returned, Cerise was peering down at her gear with some amount of alarm. It fit her like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination--it made her feel inordinately exposed.
"Stop looking like it's going to spring to life and bite you; it's just a suit," Natasha said impatiently, placing a sheathed dagger in Cerise's hand. "Here--just in case. Only use this if you have no other choice. You don't know anything about knife-fighting yet, so the odds are if you're placed in a situation where you try to use it, your opponent is just going to take it from you. And then you'll be in twice as much trouble. So remember--life or death only ."
"I got it," Cerise said faintly, reluctantly curling her fingers around the dagger.
"She's not going to need it, Nat," Steve looked reprovingly at the crimson-haired spy.
He gave Cerise a reassuring smile. "You have nothing to worry about. Let's go."
Her eyes widened as they approached the hovercraft--Cerise had never seen anything like it--sleek and streamlined as it was, like a metal falcon.
Tony grimaced in disgust as Luffy hopped nimbly up the ramp of the Quinjet.
"Seriously?" He snapped, eyeing the animal balefully. "We're bringing this demon with us?"
Luffy yawned, sharp teeth poking out, staring at Tony with an air of truculence.
"It's just a cat, Tony," Steve said wearily. "Leave it be."
"Of course you'd say that," Tony scoffed. "Don't think that I haven't noticed you with it. You're fraternizing with the enemy, Rogers!"
Steve looked heavenward.
"Both of you shut up," Natasha snapped, fingers flying across the Quinjet's control board. "We've got work to do."
Cerise had the insane urge to laugh, but she pressed her lips together and restrained herself.
Natasha's device beeped, and she spared it a cursory glance.
"Clint says there are about two pods of Chitauri that have hatched, plus another three still in egg form. Steve, Tony, take point on attacking the hatchlings. Clint and I will destroy the eggs. Make sure to keep them distracted--they'll try and protect the unhatched pods."
"Fine," Tony said with ill grace.
Steve inclined his head in silent assent.
Cerise withdrew from the three, allowing them to discuss strategy. She felt more out of place than ever--but Cerise understood. To them, she was a liability--someone to be taken care of. She couldn't possibly blame them--there really wasn't much she had to offer, aside from her powers--and they didn't even work half of the time.
A stocky figure with a bow slung over his shoulder was waiting for them on the tarmac when the hovercraft landed.
Cerise peeked out at him cautiously.
"I don't bite...Cerise, is it?" His voice rose into a question at the end.
"Hello, Mr. Barton," she greeted him nervously."It's nice to meet you."
He raised a non-committal eyebrow.
"Looks a bit soft to me," he remarked to Natasha. "Too polite. Never seen a polite agent."
"She's not an agent," Natasha replied. "Don't be an asshole."
Cerise's faint smile faltered, and she retreated into the confines of the jet.
Steve frowned at Clint.
"Let's get to it, then," Tony flicked the visor of his suit shut.
"Now you stay put," he told Cerise firmly. "Not one toe out of this jet. Got it?"
"Yeah, I know, I know," she muttered, feeling abjectly useless as she watched them leave.

~~~
"How many of these fuckers are there?" Tony barked, throwing a Chitauri hatchling against the wall. It chittered angrily, refusing to be subdued until Tony snapped its spike-laden spine. Blood the color of verdigris sprayed against Tony's suit.
"Ugh, that's disgusting," he spat in distaste, lobbing a few more of the reptilian aliens against the wall. "Cap, how're you doing?"
"This should be the last of them," Steve panted, wrestling one of them to the ground. He severed its head from its neck with his shield. "We're lucky the young ones don't have wings."
"Don't jinx it," Tony cautioned, diving towards another hatchling, smashing it until its carapace was cracked and broken.
Natasha's voice came crackling in through Steve's earpiece. "Clint and I have taken care of the eggs. What's your status?"
"We're about finished," Steve straightened, catching the last of the younglings with his hands and squeezing their necks.
Suddenly Natasha cursed, causing Steve to stiffen in alarm.
"Nat? What's wrong?" He demanded.
"There was a full-grown Chitauri here," Natasha said tersely. "I don't know how it stayed hidden. Steve--it has wings. It escaped before we could take it down."
"Where is it going?" Steve said grimly, already knowing the answer.
Natasha's voice was tight with tension.
"It's headed towards the Quinjet."

~~~

Cerise exhaled gustily, surveying the empty hovercraft in dejection.
At what point was she supposed to begin becoming anxious at the Avengers' absence?
She didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like hours.
All of a sudden, Luffy began hissing, hackles raised and teeth bared.
Cerise felt uneasy. "What is it, Luff?"
She didn't have time to wonder any further when the roof of the jet came crashing downwards-- a gunmetal gray, skeletal creature with snapping fangs balanced on top of it.
It shrieked at her, the sound scraping against her ears like nails against a chalkboard.
Cerise froze, unable to move, as if she were a mouse locked in the gaze of a snake.
Luffy leapt in front of her, claws out--and motion flooded back into Cerise's limbs. She could hear pounding footsteps hitting the tarmac, but it would be too late by the time they got to her.
Cerise had to protect Luffy.
"Hey, ugly!" She yelled, grabbing the first thing her hands came across. "Stay away from my cat!"
And she shoved a hairbrush into the Chitauri's black, glittering eye as the Avengers came barreling into the ruined entry point of the aircraft.
It careened backward, screaming in pain--falling perfectly into Natasha's ambit.
She dragged it away by its scaly wings, ignoring its wailing protests.
Tony gaped at Cerise.
"Did you--did you just stab an alien in the eye with a pink plastic hairbrush?"
Cerise flushed. "It was the first thing I could think of."
Inexplicably, Tony gave her a sardonic grin. "I like your style, kid."
"Didn't I give you a knife?" Natasha returned, flicking blue-green blood off her hands.
Cerise colored even deeper. "You said I'd probably end up with it in the other person's hands."
"Still would have done more damage than a hairbrush, Solange," Natasha started laughing. "But it was quick thinking, I'll give you that."
Clint regarded Cerise with barely-disguised amusement. Only Steve didn't seem eager to mock her--in fact, he was staring pointedly at Tony.
"Oh no," Tony wagged a gloved finger at Steve threateningly. "Don't you say it, Rogers."
"I told you so," Steve said primly.

Chapter Text

Mindbending

"Come sit down, Cerise," Steve patted the mat laid out on the floor of the training room. "We're going to start helping you manage your powers today."
Cerise eyed him apprehensively, but he looked fresh-faced and serene despite the early hour of the morning--immaculate in a simple white shirt and drawstring pants. It was a composure Cerise wished she could emulate--wrung out as she was after a week of grueling lessons with Natasha. She didn't think she could ever match up to Steve's unflappable demeanor.
As she settled down upon the mat, she noticed a box of paperweights tucked under Steve's thigh.
"Am I expected to lift those?" she asked doubtfully.
Steve smiled. "You're expected to try."
Cerise still felt nervous.
"So here's what we're going to do," Steve hooked his fingers under his chin. "We're going to attempt to have you raise these in the air, in a relaxed environment."
Cerise blinked, uncomprehending. "But I told you, I have to be in danger to--"
"Exactly," Steve interjected. "That's the problem. You have to stop associating your powers with negative emotion. Even if you somehow manage to channel them whenever you want, you'd still be letting fear and sadness, maybe even anger at some point, dictate how you use your abilities. You never let your darkness guide you--eventually, it'll corrode you from the inside out."
"But I have no way of controlling this--even if I managed to lift it, what if I use too much force?" Cerise wrung her hands, visibly distraught. "I could hurt you."
"Cerise," Steve said soothingly. "I'm not going to let anything happen. You're safe. I know you don't trust me right now, and I don't blame you for it--but just give me a chance."
He looked at her intently, aquamarine eyes open and honest.
"Try to trust me, alright? I won't make you regret it."
Cerise breathed out--and let herself believe, just a little, that she could rely on Steve.
"Okay."
Something like warmth kindled in his eyes.
"Thank you."
He handed her a paperweight--Cerise weighed it gingerly in her palm, wondering how hard it would be to raise it.
"Try to move it now," Steve instructed. "Just focus on pulling your power upwards. Imagine it like reaching into a well to bring up water."
Cerise closed her eyes and did as he said--tried to burrow deep within herself to wherever her power lay coiled and dormant--to pull a thread of power out.
She didn't know how many minutes had passed, but when she opened her eyes, the paperweight hadn't risen by so much as an inch.
Cerise wilted.
"It's fine," Steve assured her. "It's rare that anyone gets things right their first time. Keep at it."
Gritting her teeth, Cerise picked up the paperweight again.

~~~

By the time an hour had passed, Cerise had a raging headache. Despite not moving a muscle, she could feel beads of perspiration trickling down her back.
And not once had she been able to summon up her power.
If Steve was disappointed, he showed no sign of it, looking every bit as unruffled as he had at the start of their lesson.
"I think that's enough for now," he told her, putting the paperweight back in its box. "We'll do this again at the same time tomorrow."
"I'm sorry," she said, rubbing at her temples fretfully. "I know I'm doing a bad job."
Steve shook his head.
"You've only just started--it's not going to happen overnight. Just give it time."
Cerise nodded half-heartedly.
"So, how are lessons with Nat?" Steve asked, in an evident effort to divert her mind. "I heard Clint showed up for a few of them."
She stuttered in alarm--what was she supposed to say? She was grateful--Cerise knew they were giving up valuable time to teach her, and she was acutely aware that she was far from the best student they'd had. There was no way she was going to repay that with complaints, but--
But Steve seemed to find his answer in her face.
"Let me tell you something," he said gently. "So you can understand them better. Natasha and Clint have not known a very happy world--most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents haven't. They're used to hard lives and even harder people--and they've had to become hard themselves to deal with those things--it's an armor they've adopted to help them cope, and after a certain point in time, that armor isn't so easy to take off. You're very different, and you're young, and that throws them off. Try not to mind too much. They don't know how to respond when they're faced with something that isn't familiar to them--but they'll learn. They're not doing it intentionally."
Cerise's mouth fell open.
"How--?"
Loss seemed to cling to the lining of Steve's lips as they twisted up in a rueful smile. "Let's just say I know a thing or two about not being able to fit in. And how to recognize it in others."
She stared at him in disbelief, painfully aware that he'd seemed to pluck the thoughts right out of her mind. It was almost as if she were wearing the stealth suit again--she had the same sensation of being utterly exposed--except this time, it was just under his gaze.
A strand of hair tumbled over her face--even though she'd tied it back, it was the seventh time it had happened that day, and it'd frustrated Cerise no end.
There was something very vulnerable in her face at that moment, Steve thought--a kind of transparency that he'd only ever hoped to see in people, but never expected to find. But Cerise's emotions shone through her like light through a lampshade--muted yet strong.
Slowly, almost without meaning to, Steve reached forward and brushed her hair away from her face.
Color flooded into Cerise's cheeks.
Steve blinked at his hand, almost as if he'd realized it had developed a mind of its own.
There was a beat of silence, and then Cerise shot to her feet.
"I-um-well-thank you," she stammered, face still flushed. "For the stuff about Miss Romanov and Mr. Barton I mean--not--not the other-- the hair--"
She cut herself off--turning even redder, if it were possible, and fled, failing to notice Tony waiting by the door.
"So," Tony drawled. "Did you two have a nice time staring at each other all morning?"
Steve wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have an all-out fight with Tony Stark.
"What, daydreaming already, Rogers?"
"Leave me alone, Tony."

Chapter Text

This House Is Not A Home

Cerise was jolted into consciousness by a sharp rapping on her door.
She groaned, flinging her blanket over her face. Maybe if she pretended she couldn't hear him, he would go away.
Undeterred, the rapping continued, persistent and firm.
Hinges squeaked and Cerise peeked an eye open, meeting Steve's rebuking gaze.
"You're almost late," he said, crossing his arms.
"Mr. Rogers please," Cerise whined, burrowing further into her bed. "It's Sunday."
"We don't get Sundays," Steve said flatly. "Now get up."
Groggy, exhausted, and disheartened, for once Cerise forgot to be conscious of her words.
"Well we should!" She insisted peevishly. "What about my human rights? I have half a mind to form a union against all of you and stand outside throwing tomatoes at this building!" Cerise finished, aiming a vindictive kick against the bedpost.
There was a brief pause--then Steve threw his head back and laughed. Sluggish with sleep as she was, Cerise still raised her head at the novelty of the sound. There was a startling innocence to it, a tinge of surprise to his voice--as if he wasn't used to laughing very much. It made Cerise sad--made her want to keep that expression of childlike pleasure in his blue-glass eyes there a little longer--the expression that made the lines of his face melt into something younger--something sweeter.
Still chortling, Steve stepped away from the bed.
"I'll be sure to tell Tony you said that. And if you don't get out of that bed in the next minute, I'll tell him in front of you."
Cerise shot out of bed with alacrity, glaring at Steve's satisfied smirk as he left her room.

~~~
Making Steve laugh had been a welcome surprise, but the lift to Cerise's mood had only been momentary. It was as bleak as the sky outside--dull gray and sullen-soaked with rain. Today's lesson with Steve hadn't gone any better than the ones preceding it--it was as if Cerise's power had simply twined around the insides of her body, and refused to pry itself out. Steve had been unfailingly patient, with nary a word of reproof to offer her, for which she had been grateful--but he'd been equally as unyielding, always asking her quietly to try lifting the paperweight, day in and day out. It was chipping away at her resolve, like an infestation of termites in wood--each day, the belief that she could master her abilities diminished.
She supposed she was doing better in her training with Natasha, comparatively---but Cerise could tell the spy wasn't wholly satisfied by the speed of her progress. Cerise could sense the soft curves of her body gradually solidifying, but it felt like too little, too late. It certainly didn't help that she still felt like an interloper in their midst--an unnecessary cog in an already well-functioning machine. The compound itself was still a stranger to her--the walls seeming to rebuff her entrance, the floors sapping warmth from the soles of her feet. Natasha was brusque and blunt--Clint wary and aloof in the brief times he'd been around her--as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to make of a young girl being thrown into their midst. Cerise wasn't sure what to make of herself either, at times--transported as she had been from a dreary existence in the derelict underbelly of New York--to living among heroes .
And Tony......
Cerise winced. He hadn't warmed to her in the slightest in the month that she'd been living at the compound. And yet, Cerise sensed that there was a depth and dignity to him that he was only choosing not to let her see--there was no way he was as unfeeling as he made himself out to be. She'd seen the harsh contours of his face smoothen into gentleness at the sight of Pepper Potts--the way his lips stuttered around the syllables of her name.
There was love in him, she knew it.
It would just probably never be directed at her.
Her only consolation was Steve--the solemnity of his bottle-blue eyes and steady footsteps a constant, comforting backdrop to Cerise's new life. But she hardly ever saw him outside of their lessons together--and something in her shrank from approaching him--the same insidious fear she'd had all her life--that if she were to stretch out a hand, it would be flung in her face. So she curled in on herself--retreated into that deep, dark place within that seemed to spread its inky fingers further and further into the crevices of her body as each day passed.
Shoulders caving inward, Cerise dragged herself into the common kitchen, resigned to eating another cold meal by herself. She stiffened as she saw Tony approaching--setting the tray down on the counter, she did her best to sidle out of the kitchen as unobtrusively as possible. She’d almost made it out, when Tony called after her.
“Hey kid, come back in here for a sec.”
Cerise turned around to look at him with curiosity--he usually went out of his way to avoid talking to her.
He fixed her with his oaken-brown eyes.
“I can see what you’re doing, you know, and I want you to stop.”
Cerise blinked.
“Um, I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow?”
Tony groaned, evidently uncomfortable with whatever he wanted to say. “Just—just stop hiding inside your room when you’re not training with Steve or Nat, or skulking in corners where no one can see you when there’s company around. This is your place now too. It belongs to you just as much as it does to any other Avenger living here--so own it.”
Cerise stared at Tony until the meaning of his words settled into her brain, and then she beamed up at him.
"Mr. Stark.....thank you," she said, eyes shining. "That means a lot to me."
Tony fidgeted, visibly discomfited.
Suddenly, he smirked at her, an impish glee in his eyes.
"So you won't be going out and throwing tomatoes at us to defend your human rights then, will you?"
Cerise froze.
Resentfully, she cursed Steve under her breath.

~~~

Steve sighed. He'd lost track of time for the third day in a row.
The compound was silent and expectant, akin to a bated breath, as Steve walked down the hallway.
He paused, catching the faint strains of a raised voice carrying out into the corridor.
It got stronger the closer he came to Cerise's room--until, as he came to a stop outside of it, he could also hear the delicate thrumming of a guitar.
She was singing.
He'd never had the chance to listen to her again after that very first night--and just like before, he couldn't help succumbing to the undulating waves of her song--sinking down onto the cool linoleum beside her door.
The richness of her voice fell around Steve's ears like warm velvet.
"This is my temporary home,
It's not where I belong
Windows in rooms, that I'm passin' through
This is just a stop, on the way to where I'm going
I'm not afraid because I know...
This is my temporary home..... "
An aching sort of loneliness seemed to cling to her voice, linking hands across the chasm of her falling notes in a lover's embrace--it struck some long-slumbering chord in Steve-- recalling to him the hollow humming in his chest on nights sleep could not be salvaged, the nights where he could hear the staccato taps of his racing feet--always out of step with the indifferent, hurried rhythm of the new world he'd been thrust into.
It made Steve want to--want to reach out, he supposed--reel her back from the sea of uncertainty she always seemed to float in.
Steve was up and inside her room before he even had time to register the thought.
Cerise stopped short with a start, blinking up at Steve in confusion.
He stalled, scrambling for a reason for him to be there.
"I was--going to cook for myself," Steve finally said, inwardly congratulating himself on his quick thinking. "If you're hungry--I mean--would you like to join me?"
Her forest-fern eyes met his with subtle perception--as if she recognized his offer for more than what the words suggested.
"Sure," she said slowly, a faint smile curling against the corners of her lips. "I'd like that."

Chapter Text

Burnin' Old Memories

"Are we sure this is happening?" Tony demanded of Fury, uncharacteristically grim-faced.
"My sources confirm it," Nick replied with surety. "They'll be shipped off tonight, if no one stops them."
"This is bad, even by our standards," Steve grimaced. "Children are supposed to be off-limits."
"Nothing is off limits for the wrong sort of people," Natasha said, a shadow settling over her face. "This isn't the first time it's happened, and believe me, it won't be the last."
Cerise blanched, nauseated by the knowledge of what had just been revealed to them.
Sequestered in the darkest districts of New York, a secret Hydra base had been operating right under S.H.I.E.L.D's nose. They'd been trafficking in children--the homeless, the destitute, the down-and-out dregs of society--the ones no one would miss, or ask probing questions about. It was a lucrative business--children were young, impressionable and easy to mold into whatever form Hydra saw fit--they'd been busy creating a financial empire borne upon their backs--selling them to the highest bidder, averting their eyes from the brutality they were being sent into.
After all, monsters didn't care about creating more monsters.
Cerise felt sickened to the core--it had hit her a little close to home, dredging up memories that Cerise had long buried under the rubble of her adult years.
"Cap, Tony, Romanov--you're up," Fury instructed. "I'll be sending my best taskforce with you. Destroy the base, bring back the leaders for questioning, and most importantly--rescue the children. Can you manage that in one day?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "What do you think we are, Fury? Amateurs?"
Steve folded his arms. "What happens to the kids once we remove them from the base?"
"They'll be rehabilitated," Natasha said briskly, flicking through the data on the holo-screen. "Applegate Orphanage is ready to take all of them in."
Cerise was rendered immobile with terror.
There was no possible way she'd heard them say what they just did.
"Applegate Orphanage?" Tony echoed, dashing Cerise's hopes. "That's one of the fancy ones. Oddly generous, don't you think?"
"They take in a lot of charity cases," Fury waved a hand, unconcerned. "It's the best place for the children."
But it wasn't--Cerise knew the real reason they were being taken in.
The ridged flesh around her elbow seemed to pulse, reminding Cerise with every throb of the fact that she had not been able to escape, not in any definite way--not after all.
"Let's suit up," Steve rose to his feet, nodding at Cerise. "I'll see you. We'll continue our lessons later."
She could barely muster a shaky smile in response.
How could she manage anything further?
The demons of her past had finally reared their ugly heads again.

~~~

"Please don't," Cerise locked her knees against her chest, fingers leaving crimson smears against the fabric of her clothes. "Please. I'll do anything. Just-just stop."
His gunmetal eyes gleamed with satisfaction, raising her off the floor by the scruff of her neck.
"You belong to me, little jade. This is where you'll be for the rest of your life."
His voice dropped to a sibilant hiss, lips an inch away from her ear.
"There's no escape, darling."
Cerise fell out of bed with a dull thud, chest heaving.
She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyelids, vainly hoping to block out the images--but to no avail. The memories flooded in anyway, a deluge of white-hot shame and acidic regret.
They were entrenched in her brain like tree roots--she could still feel the tendrils of his voice looping around her ears, much like the way his hands had looped around her wrists with bruising intensity.
Cerise glanced down at her arms, half-expecting to find them still ringed with deep purple welts.
Though they were smooth and unblemished, Cerise could almost sense the phantom burn curling around her wrists.
Luffy nudged at her shoulder with her cold nose, mewing softly--but for once, it didn't help.
Cerise put her head in her shaking hands, trying to close herself off from the nightmarish reality she'd found herself in.
But there was no hiding from this.
She was petrified down to her very bones-- Cerise felt as if frost had crystallized on the surface of her body, encasing her in cold-sweat dread from all sides.
But she couldn't just sit idly by--set those children adrift into the ocean of misery that Applegate Orphanage held for them. Cerise would never be able to forgive herself--she hadn't managed to save anyone back then--she'd had no choice.
Could she make a difference this time?
Cerise didn't know--but she owed it to the people she'd had to leave behind to try.
The world didn't need more bitter, heart-hungry children, with starving eyes that had nothing to do with lack of food.
She could tell from the dim light illuminating her room that it was past the early hours of the morning.
The Avengers would be due back anytime--Cerise steeled herself.
Steve and Tony would need to be told--while they still had time to stop this.
Would they believe her?
Would they trust her enough to follow through on what she said, when she didn't have a shred of proof?
There were notes of uncertainty clinging to every thought that ran through Cerise's mind like vines--but it didn't change a thing.
She would do what she could.
Cerise stiffened as she heard a door open down the hall--they were here.
She ran down the corridor, a strange sense of urgency shooting through her veins like adrenaline.
"Mr. Rogers," she said desperately, spotting Steve standing by the staircase--she snagged her fingers on the sleeve of his suit. "You need to--"
A soft, nasal chuckle stopped Cerise dead in her tracks.
It was the same derisive laughter that had dogged her footsteps since the day she'd run as if her life depended on it--because it had.
Luffy hissed, sticking to Cerise's ankles--fur raised and bristling.
Slowly, Cerise lifted her eyes up to his fine-featured face.
His smile was like the slash of a razor-blade.
"My dear Miss Solange," he murmured, voice a cloying caress that pricked goosebumps onto Cerise's skin. "How lovely to see you again."

Chapter Text

Tears For Fears

Steve and Tony started in surprise, gazes rapidly flicking between Cerise and the immaculately-suited man.
"You know each other, Mr. Cranston?" Tony enquired, eyes narrowed.
"Why, of course," Cranston purred. "Miss Solange was one of our very first residents."
Steve stared at Cerise.
"You're an orphan?"
Cranston didn't give her the chance to answer.
"Well, we never knew for sure," he said musingly. "She was placed on our doorstep twenty years ago without even so much as a note. We took her in, and searched the system for months. I don't think we ever found even the slightest trace of her parents."
Cerise fervently wished she had the dagger Natasha had given her a month ago--she'd never been violent, didn't think all the training in the world could ever make her violent--but she wanted to slit Cranston's throat, wanted to watch him choke and convulse on the crimson tint of his lies.
He'd never looked for her parents--or any relation of hers. If Cerise had ever had a family, any leads towards them would have long gone cold by now.
"Well, we'll let you catch up then," Tony eyed the two of them dubiously. "While we get you the information on the children that've been rescued."
Steve seemed confused, eyes roving over Cerise sharply--but he remained silent despite his scrutiny.
"Mr. Stark--" Cerise managed to force out, but couldn't continue any further--her voice an unwilling captive in the dry prison of her throat.
They entered the elevator before Cerise could muster up anything further to say--leaving her face-to-face with the man she'd been running from for what seemed like eternity.
"So we meet again, little jade," Cranston gave her a rictus grin. "I told you that you couldn't escape me forever."
A preternatural chill washed over Cerise as she met his flint-gray eyes--she felt seventeen years old again, brittle and trembling under the weight of his inflicted wounds.
"What? Nothing to say to your old man after all these years apart? I expected something at least, Cerise."
Cranston's stone-hued gaze rubbed Cerise raw, like it was gravel grazed against her skin. She hated the ownership with which he pronounced the syllables of her name--the sense of dominion--as if it, and she, belonged to him utterly.
"You're no relation of mine," she spat, despising the way her voice quavered. "Have you forgotten what you did to me--to us? To everyone?"
Cerise doubled her hands into fists to hide their shaking.
"I won't let you make victims of these children. Not again."
Cranston's lips curled back--baring his sharp incisors as he let out a humorless laugh.
"And what are you going to do to stop me, my jade? You may be living with the Avengers now--for whatever reason, which I'll be sure to find out soon--but you are no one and nothing--you have no proof, no records, no one who will be willing to go against me."
Cranston seized her by her hair, the sharp, tugging ache reminding Cerise of a thousand mornings like this one.
"Besides," he sneered, words doused in contempt. "Who would believe the word of a girl with no name and no power?"
Cerise could feel the acid-like burn at the back of her eyelids--it felt like defeat.
Like surrender.
"You are what I've made you to be," Cranston hissed, blunt nails scraping up the side of her neck. "You'll never be free of it--you'll never be any different."
Cerise's head hung low, the taste of her shame rising like bitter bile to her mouth.
He pulled at her hair, exulting in the pained gasp the motion drew from her.
"I'll be sure to tell the new kids what's in store for them. What they'll be trapped in forever--just like you were. Just like the rest of them."
Cranston shrugged. "Who knows, maybe there's a girl among them with eyes like yours. I must confess I'm rather partial to that shade--if I find one, I'll teach her the things I taught you, my sweet. I'll make her as powerless as you are. As you always will be."
He winked--and suddenly, a terrible, nameless fury broke over Cerise like a cresting wave--not for herself, not for the childhood he'd robbed her of, not for the bruising and battering he'd accumulated upon her skin over the years like a collection of fine jewels--but for the children he was about to maim forever. Children, who for one brief moment had felt the balm of rescue--who believed they would finally be safe.
Who would just be trading in one form of subjugation for another.
Cerise felt the coils of her magic spring to life.
"No," she said calmly, fingers twisting outward. "That's where you're wrong, you see. I've always had power. You've just never seen it."
Cranston flailed, pinned to the wall like a fish on a hook.
Cerise could feel the flames wreathing around her wrists--the first time she'd felt warm in days.
She raised them towards Cranston, barely an inch away from his face.
"You're not going to take those kids," Cerise said flatly. "You're not going to take anyone. You're going to walk out of here, go to Director Fury, and confess everything you've done. Or I will burn you where you stand, Willis Cranston. I will burn you down to ash."
He gaped at her, the fear coming off of him almost tangible.
"Well isn't this a friendly reunion," Tony drawled from behind Cerise, making her jump and lose control.
Cranston crumpled to the floor.
"You know, I had a feeling something was distinctly fishy," Tony frowned at her, Steve just behind him. "We were all set to intercede when he grabbed your hair.....but it seems like you managed just fine, after all."
There was subtle approval in Tony's eyes as he looked at her--a quiet satisfaction in Steve's.
For a fleeting moment Cerise felt strong--felt empowered.
It disappeared swiftly enough as soon as Tony crossed his arms, shooting her a quelling look.
"So you gonna tell me now what the fuck is going on here, kid?"

~~~

Cerise slowly sank into the living room chair, Luffy loyally at her heels, quailing under Tony's heavy gaze. Steve's eyes carried a more neutral charge--but even his were expectant. Waiting for answers from her.
She took in a deep breath--and finally let her secrets come to light.
"Applegate Orphanage is a sham," Cerise admitted tiredly. "They put us in fancy schools and dressed us in fancy clothes--but it was all a farce. We were groomed from the moment we joined the orphanage to be sold off like cattle--the drug trade, sex trafficking, thievery, the assassination business--you name it. We were to be sold into it all. Cranston made himself a millionaire on our misery--particularly because of the girls."
"Prostitution," Cerise clarified, noticing Steve's incomprehension. "They--they taught us how to please men as soon as we were old enough to--to menstruate. We were trained as soon as they deemed fit."
Tony's face was slack with shock--a dark cast falling over Steve's.
"Did they--were you--?"
The unasked question hung in the air like a noose.
"No," Cerise shook her head rapidly. "I resisted. The other girls were too scared of what would happen to them if they refused--but I wouldn't--couldn't let them do that to me. I just--"
Cerise choked on the memories clogging her throat.
"I paid for that in blood," she finished dully. "Cranston beat me--he made the kids beat me--but it could have been worse. He's done worse. I got off lucky."
Force of habit led her fingers to trace over the grooved skin around her elbow.
The two Avengers followed the motion of her hand--there was a muscle jumping in Tony's jaw, turquoise-toned fire smoldering in Steve's eyes.
Steve reached out an arm towards hers, as if to touch the scar--but he pulled it back after a brief pause, like he'd thought better of it.
"How'd you get out?" Tony asked, the question stiff with tension.
Cerise shrugged.
"I was seventeen I think--they were going to move me someplace else. Cranston had always said I was different--that there was some other purpose for which I'd been sent to him. Whatever it was, I didn't want to find out. They took me to the car--and I ran like hell till I didn't know where I'd ended up."
She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
"I was homeless for a while--but eventually I got by on my singing--constantly moving from place to place, bar to bar. Just hiding--until the two of you found me."
Tony, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Why didn't you tell us?" He eventually demanded, accusation flaring in his eyes. "You should have the minute you knew where the children were being sent!"
"I'm sorry, I--"Cerise's shoulders caved in as she stuttered in her speech.
"Tony," Steve spoke up finally in rebuke. "It's not her fault."
"No, you're right," Tony unexpectedly replied, making both Cerise and Steve blink at him in surprise. "This is on us."
He bent down to eye-level with Cerise, looking at her intently.
"If you didn't trust us enough to think we would believe you over something like this, then that's our fault. I'm sorry--we're sorry. For what it's worth, we would have believed you."
Cerise's eyes stung.
"Thank you," she stammered. "I--thank you."
Steve looked at Tony with something like pride on his face.
The sound of a throat being cleared caused Tony to straighten.
Fury stood by the doorjamb.
"Well, he's singing like a canary," he remarked dryly. "Whatever Solange did to him, it scared him real good."
Cerise felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding as she met Fury's calculating stare.
There was predatory cunning in his single eye--it made Cerise acutely uneasy.
"Come on, Stark," Fury beckoned Tony. "We need to discuss funding for these kids."
As they left, Cerise finally let herself breathe fully.
The worst of it was over.
"You did well today," Steve addressed her quietly.
Cerise raised her face to his, searching for the pity she expected to find stamped across his face--but there was only calm acceptance.
"It was pure chance that I lifted him off the ground," she said bitterly. "I did nothing."
"No," Steve insisted. "I saw you. You attacked him the minute he started threatening the children--you did it for them, not for yourself. You took control--you didn't let yourself remain a victim. You've been running from him for years--but when you got the chance, you didn't let your fear stop you. You stood up to him--and you did it to protect someone else. You took your power back."
Steve smiled at her.
"You did well today, Cerise," he repeated.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing for a brief moment.
For the second time that day, Cerise felt warmth seep into her body.

~~~

She didn't know what had led her restless feet to the training room--but here she was.
Sleep had snatched itself away from her clutches yet again--Cerise hadn't expected anything less, after the day she'd had.
Why she'd seen fit to end up in the training room however--she didn't know.
Slowly, as if in a daze, Cerise reached for the box of paperweights.
Silently, she willed herself to lift it, screwing her eyes shut.
There was a faint vibration--
Cerise gradually pried open an eye.
The paperweight hovered in the air--Cerise's mouth fell open in amazement.
Standing unnoticed by the door, Steve smiled.

Chapter Text

The Aftermath

“Mr. Rogers, I did it!” Cerise exclaimed excitedly, eyes shining.
Steve hid his smile in the sleeve of his shirt as he watched the paperweight hover in the air. It wasn’t the first time he'd seen her lift it—but she didn’t know that.
“Well done,” Steve said warmly.
“And if you don’t stop calling me Mr. Rogers I’ll make you run an extra hour in the morning,” he threatened.
Cerise’s face fell comically, making Steve laugh.
The sound pulled itself involuntarily from his lungs, striking him with its unfamiliarity—Steve had found himself doing it often, around Cerise.
Why he couldn’t explain—but it wasn't an unwelcome sensation. Steve always felt lighter around her somehow—as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders in her presence.
She reminded him of simpler times—a relic of old world charm that Steve had presumed long-faded from the annals of time.
“Try again,” Steve said, dismissing the direction his thoughts had taken.
Cerise wilted visibly as the paperweight resumed its stubborn place upon the floor.
“Don’t worry,” Steve said, getting to his feet. “It’s a start. We’ll work at it.”
His fingers twitched with the perplexing urge to ruffle her hair as she beamed up at him--there was something painfully sweet about her, a strange strain of similarity in the yearning always flickering in the flecks of her sea green eyes--a yearning that some secret part of Steve couldn't help responding to.
It set Steve on edge however--made him uneasy. He'd always had extremely clear opinions on the people in his life--and it unsettled him to find that it was not the case with Cerise.
“Good job," he said hurriedly, moving hastily to leave the room. "Train well with Nat. I'll see you in the evening."
Cerise groaned, dragging herself up by her feet.
Sessions with the Russian spy remained as grueling as ever--Natasha was relentless and demanding, and Cerise always left their bouts feeling like a worn-out punching bag.
"Hey, kid," Natasha greeted, ambling into the room. "Heard about your run-in with Cranston. Nice work."
"Uh, thanks, I guess," Cerise ducked her head. "It was really a matter of luck, I think."
Natasha crossed her arms.
"No, you did good, Solange. Those kids are safe now thanks to you."
She halted, evidently weighing whether what she had to say was worth being heard.
"I was trained all my life for something I didn't want to do," Natasha finally began, making Cerise flick her head up in surprise.
"And I didn't fight it--not really," she continued. "But you did. You paid the price for it--and you paid it heavily. But you fought anyway--you did what I couldn't. That takes guts, kid. And you've got plenty."
Cerise glowed as she looked at Natasha.
"It means a lot to me that someone like you thinks I'm brave," she said gratefully. "And I think you're wrong about yourself, Miss Romanov. You did fight--you fought to turn your life around. You made it different--you began again. You made yourself a hero."
Natasha gaped at her for a moment--and then smiled--the first genuine smile she'd ever given Cerise. It transformed her face--softened out the hard edges, made her look years younger.
"Thanks, kid," Natasha said slowly, emerald eyes bright and gleaming.
Cerise felt inordinately pleased that she'd finally extracted a smile out of the stone-faced spy.
Natasha smirked at her.
"Hope you don't think this means I'll go easy on you today."
Cerise sighed.

~~~

If this continued any further, Cerise was going to run out of space on her body soon for the bruises she was accumulating.
Natasha, true to her word, had been anything but gentle that day.
Cerise winced with every step she took down to the ground floor--she ached in places she didn't even know were capable of aching.
She tried to be as quiet as possible--it was late into the hours of the night, and she didn't want to wake anyone up.
"Isn't it past your bedtime, kid?"
Cerise jumped at the voice that came behind her--whirling around in alarm.
"Oh, Mr. Stark," she said, relaxing once she saw it was him. "You're up late."
"So are you," Tony replied, folding his arms across his chest.
Cerise shrugged.
"Not a heavy sleeper even on the best of days."
"So this is one of the bad days then," Tony looked at her expectantly.
"Suppose you could say that," Cerise agreed. "Nothing I'm not used to though."
Tony exhaled heavily.
"Alright, kid, I was gonna wait to tell you this in the morning, but since you're here now I might as well."
Cerise blinked up at him.
"I have eyes and ears pretty much everywhere, thanks to my tech," Tony began. "And I know Cranston never did a thing to find out where you came from. I can help you look for your parents--your family, whatever's left of them. If you want me to, that is."
Cerise froze.
All through the years she had shied away from thoughts of her family--who they were, why they'd left her, whether they still cared--the question had dogged at her heels for as long as she'd been running--and now, here it was: staring her straight in the face.
"Kid?" Tony prompted.
Cerise chose her words carefully.
"I think that I don't want to go down that road," she said, measuring out her sentences with precision. "Whoever my parents were, whatever reason they had--they didn't want me. They sent me to a place that would have been the death of me if I hadn't managed to escape. There's already a great deal of bitterness that's bled into my life, and I don't want to dredge up more by searching for people that gave me away in the first place. There are just some questions you don't want answered."
Tony nodded, seeming unsurprised.
"If you're sure."
Cerise dipped her chin.
"Yeah, I am."
Tony paused, chewing his lip as he regarded Cerise.
"I don't think my father ever saw me as anything more than a tool for him to utilize," Tony offered unexpectedly. "I was an object to him--a commodity, an asset. And I knew the minute I stopped being that for him, he'd put me away on some dusty shelf like one of those half-finished projects he always used to toss aside. I used to watch the neighborhood boys--they didn't have half my money or intelligence, but they used to play baseball with their dads every evening, and I'd see them walking home arm-in-arm, and think to myself--that I would trade places with them in an instant."
Cerise's lips pulled downwards as she glanced at Tony, genuine sorrow in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I had no idea."
"I'm over it," Tony waved a dismissive hand. "My point is, sometimes the family you're given isn't all you'd hoped or expected it would be. You have the chance to start over, here. Form bonds with whomsoever you please. You can choose your family, kid. That's a gift."
Cerise stared up at him, oddly touched by his little speech.
"Thank you, Mr. Stark. For the offer--and for thinking of me. I really--" She swallowed. "I really appreciate it."
Tony clapped a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't mention it, kid. Try and get some sleep."
Cerise watched him leave with a faint smile on her lips, before making her own way up to her floor.
A subdued mew from the common room caught her attention.
She poked her head into the room, spotting Luffy placidly curled up on a tabletop--and Steve, fast asleep on the couch.
Cerise started in surprise, cautiously walking in.
She immediately noticed the frigidity of the air, eying Steve with some concern.
Cerise considered waking him--but he looked too peaceful, face smooth and childlike in unconsciousness.
Instead, she fetched a blanket from the cupboard, draping it gently over Steve's knees.
Cerise studied his sleeping face--there was a dreamlike innocence to it, vulnerability casting shadows across the contours of his features. It made Cerise reach out and brush her fingers lightly across his hair.
He shifted at her touch, making her draw her hand back in haste.
Steve muttered something incoherent--and Cerise bent forward, straining her ears.
"Peggy," he whispered, rolling over onto his side.

~~~

S.H.I.E.L.D Holding Facility, New York.

Cranston's eyes flicked open with the unshakeable sensation of something watching him.
A thick shadow lay across the floor of his cell.
Cranston let out a shuddering breath.
"Do they know?"
A cold sweat broke over Cranston at the words of the disembodied voice.
"N-no," he stammered. "I didn't tell them anything, I swear. Not a word."
"That is good," the voice continued. "But you know what I've come here to do."
"No p-please," Cranston begged, backing into the corner of his cell. "I won't tell them anything, I swear it. I swear it. She has no idea who her parents are."
"It is unavoidable," the voice insisted coldly. "The girl must never know the truth of what she is. And if the Avengers think to investigate into her family, the trail will start with you."
Tears leaked out of Cranston's eyes.
"Please..."
"I regret it," the voice said dispassionately.
The shadow launched itself at Cranston's throat.

Chapter Text

Blue Spring Night

"Spaghetti sound okay to you?" Steve asked Cerise over his shoulder, already shaking out pasta from the container.
"Sure, whatever you like," Cerise answered gratefully. "I'm just glad you're making anything at all. I know I'm hopeless."
"It's no trouble," Steve let out a quiet chuckle. "I like cooking--back in my day food was usually just boiled. There's so much you can do with it now--it's incredible."
Cerise smiled at him.
They'd formed an unspoken sort of agreement over the past few weeks--where Steve would call her for dinner, and they would eat together every night. Invariably, the hours would idle by long after the meal was over, and Cerise would find herself in companionable quiet with Steve--usually while he studied mission reports or she pored over the techniques she'd learnt from Natasha that day.
Occasionally Steve would talk--about his life in the 1940s, how much the world had transformed in the seventy years he'd been under the ice--the tiny, everyday little changes in modern life that never ceased to amaze him--and Cerise would listen. She had the strange sense that no one else ever had.
Cerise was too ashamed of how starved and empty her life had been to share much of it--but something about Steve made her want to. He always seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, a calm sort of acceptance in his eyes when he looked at her--as if nothing that lay in the murky depths of her past could or would influence his opinion of her. So she tried, in her own small way, to respond in kind--spoke to him about her music, about how it had been a refuge for her against the cold sleet of her years in the orphanage.
Steve had never once pitied her in the slightest--there had only been empathy in his gaze, as if he somehow understood how she felt without her saying so--how she'd always felt a little out of place everywhere she went--unable to keep in tandem with the pace of the other people she'd been surrounded by.
For whatever reason--he seemed to understand.
So Cerise looked forward to dinnertime every day--it was a slice of much-needed normalcy in her life. She'd never had one--but their little ritual of eating together made Cerise think of home.
Steve was soothing to be around--it settled Cerise when she was near him, grounded her in some subtle way that she couldn't quite fathom.
"Your speed is improving," Steve's voice broke Cerise out of her reverie. "Your running, I mean. You're getting better."
Cerise gave a rueful sigh.
"I'm still yards behind you, though," she said regretfully.
Steve grinned at her, an unusually roguish cast to his periwinkle blue eyes.
"You're always going to be yards behind me," he smugly replied, laughing at her mock-angry expression.
Cerise was amused as he handed her the plate of steaming pasta--but something was niggling at the back of her brain.
That name he'd called out in his sleep the other night--whose was it?
She couldn't explain why she wanted to know so badly--but she did.
But Cerise didn't know how appropriate it would be to ask him--would he think it an intrusion on her part?
"Mr. Rogers," Cerise began tentatively.
"Hmm?" Steve barely looked up from his plate.
She paused--and then decided to throw caution to the wind, hastily blurting out her question.
"Who's Peggy?"
Steve choked on his food.
Cerise instantly regretted her decision, shrinking away from Steve's piercing gaze.
"Who told you that name?" He demanded as soon as he'd regained breath.
"Nobody!" Cerise raised her hands in a gesture of innocence.
"Really, it was no one," she insisted, as Steve narrowed his eyes.
Cerise colored slightly.
"You said her name in your sleep the other night," she admitted. "You were in the common room."
Steve straightened out of his stiff posture.
"Oh," he blinked.
Cerise was truly crimson in the face.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," she said hurriedly. "I was just curious--I won't ask again if it bothers you, please don't be offended, I--"
"Hey, hey, relax," Steve cut her off. "I'm not offended. You just surprised me, is all."
He hesitated.
Steve had kept Peggy close within the walls of his heart--the memory of her scarlet-tipped smile too sacred to share, but--
Something about the gentleness glimmering in Cerise's green eyes pulled the words from his mouth.
"Peggy Carter was...someone I knew, in the '40s," Steve said slowly.
"My best girl," he added, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Someone who believed in me. Someone who...cared."
Glancing at his face, Cerise wondered if anyone would ever look at her the way Steve looked when he spoke about Peggy.
She shook away the ridiculousness of the thought.
"Is she--" Cerise's voice trailed off.
"No," Steve shook his head. "Peggy's alive. But she's old now, obviously--and sick, and I don't know how much longer--"
He fell silent, lowering his head.
Cerise's fingers itched with the need to squeeze his shoulder, offer him some form of comfort--but she was too afraid.
"Mr. Rogers," she said instead quietly. "Some people wait all their lives for the kind of bond you seem to share with Peggy. You got the chance to feel it twice. You have her back now--and even if it's just for a short while, you still have her. That's worth a lot."
"It's going to hurt when she's gone," Steve swallowed convulsively, throat bobbing.
"Everything hurts," Cerise said, a wistful twist to her lips. "Some people are just worth the pain."

~~~

S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, New York

"Status report, Agent Hill," Fury commanded. "How are Solange's lessons progressing?"
Hill swiped her fingers across the holo-screen, pulling up Cerise's photo.
"Romanov's assessment is that her physical strength is improving at a steady rate," Hill informed. "Solange is responding well to training, even if it's not a very rapid development. Romanov is more or less satisfied with her."
Fury nodded.
"And Rogers?"
"He doesn't offer much information," the agent replied. "If anyone asks he simply says she's learning more day by day--he doesn't trust us. He won't voluntarily give us any details, if he can help it. But I have it on good authority that what she did to Cranston was a freak incident, and uncharacteristic of her usual grasp on her abilities."
"Yes, Cranston," Fury mused. "He was found dead the other night, wasn't he?"
"Died in his sleep, they say," Hill answered. "They didn't find anything amiss with his body."
"Hmm," Fury said, seemingly unconvinced. "He's been perfectly healthy all these years, running his little racket. I don't think it's a coincidence that this happened right after what Solange did to him."
"Maybe not," Hill agreed. "But we can't prove anything."
"Sir," she continued. "This girl though. She's young and unpredictable. Volatile. Are you sure she's what we need?"
"All that can be managed," Fury dismissed, unperturbed. "She could prove herself to be a real asset to us, if given the right opportunity. We thought she could only use telekinesis, but she conjured fire that day with Cranston. Who knows what else she can do? She's valuable, Hill. We'd be fools to let her slip through our hands."
The agent offered no further argument.
Fury stared out of the window, lips pursed.
"Hill," he addressed his second-in-command suddenly. "Run analytics on Solange--every time her powers flared up. Try and find a pattern."
Numbers glowed across the holo-screen as Hill rapidly fed in data.
"Sir," she said slowly. "I think you need to see this."
Fury peered at the screen with his single eye.
"Interesting," he remarked. "They only ever appear in high-stress situations. This...changes things."
Hill looked at him sharply.
"I'll give her a few more months with Rogers," Fury decided. "I'm confident he can help her improve."
Hill crossed her arms over her chest.
"And if that doesn't work?"
"Well then," Fury glanced at Cerise's smiling face, illuminated by the blue light of the screen. "Let's just say I've got a plan."

Chapter Text

What Lurks In The Dark

Luffy snarled, the sound a clear, guttural threat.
The shadow loomed over the bed, elongating by the minute until it stretched above Cerise's sleeping figure.
It seemed to pulsate silently in the dim light of the room, the inkiness of its form spreading out like lake water under a night sky.
The shadow lowered itself, an inch above Cerise's face.
Luffy launched herself at it, hissing violently--
And just as suddenly as it had appeared, the shadow vanished, leaving Luffy to land heavily onto Cerise's chest instead.
Cerise woke up with a choked gasp.
"Wha--Luff?" She muttered drowsily. "What're you doing?"
"Come on, get off, you're heavier than you look," Cerise pushed with sluggish hands at Luffy, but the cat refused to budge from her seat on Cerise's torso, stolidly remaining perched in her place.
"Ugh, fine," Cerise shoved her face back into the pillow. "Suffocate me then. I'll just sleep anyway, somehow."
Long after Cerise's breaths had evened out, Luffy fixed her lamp-like eyes on the room in silent vigil.

~~~

The shadow glided through the streets of New York, almost merging with the dark asphalt of the roads.
It swooped up the length of the dingy building--and then melded itself to the body of one of the creatures waiting on the roof.
"What does your shadow have to say?" The smaller of the two enquired.
"That she's healthy," the other responded. "That her powers are dormant, for the most part."
"They need to remain dormant, Quotho," the smaller creature reminded him urgently. "We can't afford to have them fully awakened. She's with the Avengers--Steve Rogers is training her--"
"It's going to take a lot more than a soldier's drills to set off that kind of ability," Quotho replied, seemingly unbothered. "You know where she's from, Jhago. You know how brutally they were trained just to be able to keep their powers in check. Do you think swinging a knife and throwing punches will ever measure up to that?"
"I know very well what they were like," Jhago snapped. "I was there. But we're playing with fire by allowing her to stay with the Avengers. You know that."
Quotho shrugged.
"Let her have her mummer's farce at freedom, Jhago. You and I both know we will take her in the end."
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Jhago demanded. "She is too well-protected now--and she has a guardian. It never leaves her side--we cannot break into their compound to capture her, we must remain unseen. No one can know who we are."
"And no one will," the larger of the creatures assured him. "The guardian is limited by its current form. She cannot stay locked up in that compound forever--and they will not be able to follow her everywhere. Eventually she will end up alone, and that will be our chance. We will have her, Jhago."
"And what of her origins?" Jhago questioned him further. "What if she finds out who she is? What she is?"
Quotho shook his head.
"We killed Cranston--there is not a single soul left in this world who knows the truth of the girl's history. She will never find out."
"I hope you're right," Jhago turned his slit-pupilled eyes to the New York skyline. "We've spent years searching for her. If she slips through our fingers again..."
"She won't," Quotho said confidently. "We won't let her--you and I have come too far now to turn away empty-handed. You know how much we need the girl."
"Her and her blood."
Jhago glanced at him sharply.
"And what happens once we get her blood?"
Quotho bared his fangs in a rare show of amusement.
"Why," he said pleasantly, rust-iron claws shooting out of the green membrane of his fingers. "We kill her, of course."

~~~

"Focus," Steve said firmly. "You can do this."
Sweat dripped down Cerise's back as she flexed her fingers.
There was a faint vibrating noise, and the paperweight lifted itself an inch off the floor--hovering precariously.
Cerise's shoulders slumped.
"I'm sorry--"
"Don't be," Steve shook his head. "You don't have to apologize, you're learning. A month and a half ago, that paperweight wouldn't have moved at all. You're improving."
Cerise sighed, unconvinced.
Steve gave her a long look.
"You know what your problem is," he said, folding his arms. "You're afraid of it. You think it's some alien force that's attached itself to you--something foreign, something unnatural. It's a part of you--part of who you are. You need to accept that, otherwise you'll never learn to control it."
Cerise didn't meet his eyes.
"It hurts people," she whispered. "It's never done any good."
It doesn't have to," Steve frowned at her. "You can change that. Besides, haven't you only used it when someone was threatening you or meant you some sort of harm? Have you ever attacked an innocent person?"
"Well...no," Cerise admitted unwillingly.
"And it's done some good," Steve corrected her. "Because you used your power on Cranston, he confessed to all his crimes. He'd have walked free if you hadn't."
"And maybe he might not have been dead," Cerise responded.
Steve raised an eyebrow.
"Are you honestly sorry he died?"
She stared up at him.
"No," Cerise's lips tightened. "I'm glad he's dead."
He nodded, unsurprised.
"He was no loss to the world," Steve agreed.
"Don't you think it's suspicious that he just died within two days of being in S.H.I.E.LD. custody, though?" Cerise looked up inquiringly at Steve.
He narrowed his eyes.
"You don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D," Steve said.
It wasn't a question.
Cerise stammered in alarm.
"It's not that--it's just--I-"
"Relax," Steve waved a hand. "I don't trust them either, but they've got no reason to kill Cranston. What could they possibly gain from that?"
"I guess you're right," Cerise chewed her lip thoughtfully. "It's still odd though."
"Yes," Steve conceded. "I'll ask Tony to look into it."
"No need, he already is," a voice sniped from behind them.
"Mr. Stark," Cerise blinked. "I didn't realize you were here."
"Well, I thought it best to break up the utterly boring conversation you were having," Tony said derisively.
Steve sighed.
"Anyway, there was nothing amiss to be found with the body," Tony continued. "No signs of violence, no force--nothing. His heart just stopped in his sleep."
Cerise furrowed her eyebrows.
"He was always healthy though," she said slowly. "And there's never been anything the matter with his heart."
"I dunno, kid," Tony shrugged. "Just telling you what I've heard. Don't worry, if there's something to be found about his death, I'll find it."
"Thank you," Cerise said gratefully.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Tony dismissed. "I'm gonna leave. You guys can go back to making eyes at each other, or whatever it is that you two do in here."
He smirked as Cerise's face flamed.
"Don't let him get to you," Steve said amusedly. "He just likes to tease. And you always react--that's why he loves picking on you."
She muttered incoherently, still red.
Steve grinned.
"Come on, champ. It's time for our run."
Cerise groaned.

Chapter Text

Almost Like The Blues

She knew she was dreaming.
She didn't know how, but she knew.
Fog rose in milky curlicues around Cerise, obscuring her surroundings completely.
It swirled around her ankles, lovingly wrapping tendrils up her feet.
"Hello?" Cerise called out tremulously. "Is anyone there?"
Cerise whirled around at the sound of a guttural growl--and tripped onto the ground in her frantic bid to back away, the mist eddying around her in circles.
The panther stalked forward, coal-black fur glistening, stark against the gray gloom of their surroundings.
It was easily the size of a horse, utterly dwarfing Cerise's cowering form as it stood over her.
The panther fixed its luminescent topaz eyes on Cerise, placing a giant paw on her calf.
She curled in on herself, bracing for impact--and then blinked dazedly.
A disembodied voice echoed in her head, soundless as print on paper.
The animal's maw hadn't opened in the slightest, but somehow Cerise knew that it was the one speaking into her mind.
"You don't belong here, child."
"Wh-what?" Cerise scrambled away from the panther as rapidly as she was able. "How--how are you in my head? How is this possible--what do you mean--I--"
"You don't belong here," the voice repeated. "You know it. This isn't your place."
Although there wasn't the slightest sound to be heard, Cerise could inexplicably feel the texture of the panther's voice--it was throaty and rough, (recalling to Cerise the sensation of scraping her hand against tree bark) -- and unmistakably female.
"I don't know what you mean," she said out loud. "Where would I be but here? I've lived in New York all my life."
"And have you ever fit in, even once?" The giant cat pressed on insistently. "This is not your home. This is not where you are from, child."
"Where else would I go?" Cerise said faintly, the truth of the panther's words seeping into her veins like melting ice. "Who else would I be?"
"You were born for something greater than this," the voice continued inexorably. "The answer is in you. It's been in you all along."
"I don't understand," Cerise shook her head numbly. "I've never been anything special. My powers are a curse--and why would I leave the Avengers?"
"Your power is a blessing. And I do not ask you to leave the Avengers, little one," the panther prowled around Cerise. "Your path is bound to one of them--you need to stay, for now."
"Then what are you asking me to do?" Cerise shifted uneasily. "What is it that you want?"
"I want you to realize that this isn't your life--and this isn't your world," the voice answered. "I'm asking you to accept what you already know."
"Find out where you truly belong, where you should have been all along--who you should have been all along. There are forces conspiring around you, the likes of which you cannot even fathom, child. They will stop at nothing to keep you from discovering the truth of your history. You cannot let them win."
"If you know so much, why don't you just tell me who I am?" Cerise asked the panther bitterly.
"I am bound by my oaths, young one," the panther turned its back on her, muscles rippling sinuously as it moved away from Cerise. "I would have gladly told you. But this is your journey."
"Wait--what oath?" Cerise demanded. "Who are you? Come back!"
The panther didn't look back even once.
"I think you know who I am," the voice said, coolly amused. "You always have."
Cerise vaulted up in bed, gasping for breath.
Her gaze flitted around the room.
Luffy's yellow eyes stared back at her.

~~~

Steve slowly settled onto the floor outside Cerise's room, mulling over the day's events.
Cerise had been distracted and out of sorts all throughout her lessons, though she'd done her best to stay focused.
Steve wanted to ask her what was wrong--but he didn't know whether she would appreciate the questioning. There was always an air of tightly-coiled tension to Cerise, almost as if she felt that if she loosened her grasp on herself even a little, she would fall into pieces.
He wanted to take that away, somehow--tell her it was alright to let her guard down a little--that she was finally in a safe space.
Steve hated the fractured light in her eyes--the constant wariness evident even in the restriction of her movement--she was always mincing her steps when she walked, trying to appear as small as possible, curling in on herself wherever she chose to sit, in an attempt to take up the least amount of space. Cerise was always hiding away--and it bothered Steve no end. He wanted to catch her hand, tell her that she could take up all the space she wanted--take ownership of her surroundings--because she deserved to.
Because she had earned it.
When she'd revealed what her life had been like before Steve had found her--what Cranston had done--he'd barely been able to hear her over the sound of his own blood searing in his veins.
Steve had been incensed--he'd wanted to knock Cranston's teeth in for the lives he'd ruined.
For the hollowness he'd created in the open curves of Cerise's face--for the desolation he'd caused in the misty green moors of Cerise's eyes.
Steve had looked at Cerise with a newfound respect after that day--he'd run up against the streak of steel present in the otherwise silk wrap of her personality.
Steve's thoughts faded into white noise as Cerise's voice wafted through the closed door--rich and heavy like warmed treacle.
It was the only time he thought she was ever truly herself--when she sang, there was an earthy, gritty sense of authenticity to her voice--as if she were peeling back her skin until only her rawest self remained.
He didn't know how he'd started sitting by her door at night to hear her sing--but the habit had grown as gradually as the burgeoning stalks of a newborn plant, until he found himself outside her room as soon as the sky started to weep ink.
Her song opened up a fount of bittersweet yearning in Steve--her voice a thread that wound him down the barren roads of his heart, dust-dimmed with neglect.
It stirred something in Steve--tugged up a sentient creature of emotion, that seemed to lazily stretch its limbs and arise from a long-kept slumber.
Something that hungered--paced against the confining cage of Steve's chest, pawing for attention.
Steve closed his eyes, and let the lilt of Cerise's voice carry him home.
"So I let my heart get frozen,
To keep away the rot,
She tells me that I'm chosen,
He tells me that I'm not,
There is no God in Heaven,
There is no Hell below,
So says the great professor,
Of all there is to know,
But I've had the invitation,
That a sinner can't refuse,
And it's almost like salvation,
It's almost like the blues..."

Chapter Text

Interlude

Cerise peeked at Steve curiously from the corner of her eye--or rather, at what he was holding in his hand. She'd seen it on him often enough, the plain white notepad a common sight around the living space they shared. Cerise often found him scribbling in it in the hours they'd spend together in quiet after their meal, but she'd never quite summoned up the courage to ask him about it. Cerise didn't know why it mattered as much as it did--but she'd found herself curious about many of the little things she noticed about Steve in the two months she'd spent at the compound. There was a peculiar sensation in Cerise's chest when she observed things about Steve she didn't immediately understand--an insistent sort of tug at her conscious, tiny hooks pulling at her skin, letting her know she wanted something more than this--more than just the light companionship they currently shared--more than just the surface things she knew of him--simply just more .
Despite how intimidating Steve often came across, with his hard-cut jaw and granite-hewn physique--there was a stable sort of warmth to him that washed over Cerise like the lazy waves of the midsummer ocean.
It pulled some slumbering, half-aware part of her to the forefront in his presence--yanking up an unfamiliar sort of want.
"You know," Steve looked across at her amusedly. "You've been staring at me for over five minutes now. Whatever it is you want to say, you can say it."
Cerise wanted to sink into the depths of the couch to hide her beet-red face, violently cursing her own stupidity.
"It really wasn't anything," she stammered, valiantly averting her gaze from Steve's. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable."
"You didn't," Steve frowned at her, a faint downward pull to his mouth.
He studied her shrinking figure intently.
"You can ask me things, you know," he continued. "I don't mind. I--" he faltered for a brief moment. "It's nice, actually."
Cerise blinked at him.
"Um," she said tentatively. "I was going to ask you what that notepad was for, actually."
"Oh," Steve said bemusedly, glancing down at it. "It's nothing special, really. I obviously missed out on a lot of years when I was under the ice--so I jot down things that people tell me I should know about the world now--or things I'm interested in looking further into."
Steve's lips twitched as he watched Cerise's eyes widen to the size of saucers as she stared at the notepad--barely biting back a laugh as he saw her practically vibrating in place.
"Do you want to add something to it?" He asked her indulgently.
Cerise's eyes sparkled like wet grass in sunlight, but she still looked uncertain.
"I would be glad to, Mr. Rogers, but I don't know that I would have much to offer," she chewed her lip nervously, evidently teetering on the cusp of what she wanted to say.
Steve set down his pad and waited.
"All I've ever known are books and music," Cerise began slowly. "For a very long time, they were all I had."
Her lips tweaked upwards a fraction as she recalled the memory into words.
"I still remember slipping out of the orphanage on the rare few chances I got--I'd go to the nearest library and just sit there for hours--lose myself in all these worlds where people were good, and true, and kind--I thought, if someone were able to create characters so beautiful--there had to be some good left in the world. It gave me hope--that did. Other times I'd sneak into theaters to watch my favorite musicals--Moulin Rouge, The Sound of Music--I don't know to put this, but listening to those songs--it made me feel human. I was this dead thing wasting away at the orphanage, but for those two hours at the theater--I felt alive. I felt like love existed in life--and that I could survive anything as long as I knew it was there, even if it never entered my own life. It--" Cerise cut herself off, flushing under the weight of Steve's gentle smile.
"I'm sorry," she said hastily, contrition plain in her tone. "I've said too much--you don't want to hear any of this, I-"
"I do," Steve interrupted her softly. "It's rare that you ever talk about yourself--and you should do it more often."
"It seems to me you have a lot more to offer than you think," he handed her the notepad. "You can write down the names of the books you loved best. I'll have to read them on my own, but those musicals--"
Steve hesitated, suddenly finding himself infuriatingly unsure.
He cleared his throat.
"Those musicals," he tried again. "Maybe--you could--watch them with me...?"
His voice trailed off into a half-question.
There was something so achingly sweet in the smile Cerise gave him right then, Steve half-expected to find honey smeared across her carnation-stained lips.
It cut him to the quick.
"Of course," Cerise's voice was a mere wisp in the cool air of the room. "I would love to, Mr. Rogers."

~~~

Tony strode into the room, barely sparing Cerise a glance as he approached Steve.
"We've got a problem, Rogers."
Steve got to his feet instantly.
"What is it, Tony?"
Tony crossed his arms over his chest, a mulish look on his face.
"Fury's being a real pain in my ass," he griped. "He gets more paranoid by the day, and now he's badgering me to make sure that there aren't any more pods of Chitauri eggs still strewn around New York. He was going on about needing to contact Banner--said that Bruce had reported observing gamma radiation emanating from the areas where the Chitauri had attacked, and also around the places where we found the pods."
"I tried reaching Banner," Tony added, forestalling Steve's question. "He's nowhere to be found--I can't trace him. I don't know where he's sequestered himself, but I don't think we can expect any help from him this time around--and I don't know about you, Cap, but I have neither the time nor inclination to search every goddamn warehouse in this city for a nest of alien eggs."
Steve exhaled heavily, furrowing his brow.
Cerise, who had been silent throughout the course of the entire conversation, fidgeted at the mention of gamma radiation.
Tony shot her a cursory look.
"You got something to add, kid?"
"I-uh," Cerise dithered. "I might have something that could help."
They both stared at her blankly.
She turned on her heel, almost running back to her room.
Steve and Tony followed after her in silence, watching bemusedly as Cerise scrabbled amongst her belongings for whatever she was hoping to find.
"Here," Cerise finally said breathlessly, holding out a spherical object towards Tony. "I was looking for this."
It was an odd-looking device, resembling a half-knitted ball of black wool--with thin threads of wires spiraling out every which way.
Tony eyed it with ill-concealed distaste.
"What the fuck is that?"
"You mentioned gamma radiation," Cerise said nervously. "I made this--back when the Hulk--I mean, Dr. Banner, was fighting in New York. I configured it to detect gamma rays--it was just an experiment, and I never expected it to work, but--it showed me Harlem on the map I'd put in--said there were signs of radiation there--and that's where--that's where--"
"Where Banner was fighting," Tony finished for her with shrewd eyes.
"Will it still work?" Steve asked Cerise doubtfully. "That happened many years ago."
She nodded.
"If I could just plug it into an energy source, I'm sure I could get it to work," Cerise turned to Tony. "Mr. Stark, do you have jumper cables by any chance?"
"Do I have-" Tony gaped at her. "Do I have--kid, I have fifty different labs in this city alone. Just come down with me--and bring that...thing."
He pointed contemptuously at the device in Cerise's hands.
She hurried to keep up with the long strides of the two men as they descended to the basement where Tony's lab was located.
"You can plug it in there," Tony gestured dismissively towards the docks. "This better work."
Steve nodded encouragingly at Cerise as her hands flew over the circular screen of her detector.
A few minutes later, the screen glowed blue and Cerise sighed in relief.
Tony's eyebrows rose high into his hairline as he watched her tap her fingers across the screen.
"It's showing me coordinates for...uh, Brooklyn," Cerise informed, peering at the detector. " I don't know if it's the Chitauri, but there are definitely trace elements of gamma radiation present in the upper boroughs."
"Kid," Tony addressed her suddenly. "How did you make this? Did you ever even go to college?"
Cerise flushed a virulent shade of red.
"No, I didn't," she admitted. "I wanted to, but I was broke. I knew...someone," her voice hitched at the tail end of her sentence, causing Steve to narrow his eyes at her. "He was in college and I used to read his books on electrical and mechanical engineering. It was fascinating for me--and eventually he started sneaking me into the campus lab and I would just tinker with things. That's basically how it started..."
Cerise shrugged.
Tony stared at her for a long moment.
"Well," he said after a pregnant pause. "I could use that sort of skill around here. You're welcome to use my lab whenever you want, kid--so long as you don't disturb me."
Cerise's mouth popped open in disbelief.
Steve smiled at her dumbstruck expression.
"Let's suit up, Stark," he told Tony. "Looks like we're headed to Brooklyn."

Chapter Text

The Heir

"I still think bringing her with us was a bad idea," Steve said, lips obstinately jutting outwards.
Tony glared at him.
"Steve, I told you--we can't leave her at the compound by herself, the civilian's protests aren't going to die down anytime soon. And you saw what happened the last time we left her in the Quinjet--you think she has a portable case of hairbrushes ready to go that she can just lob at whatever might escape us and go after her next?"
Cerise couldn't help the startled laugh that bubbled out of her as she caught Tony's eye, though she subsided hastily when Steve directed his frown onto her.
"This is a ridiculous argument," Steve crossed his arms, frowning. "She could very easily get hurt."
"No, it makes perfect sense," Tony shot back. "This way, even if we get ambushed by something, we're instantly going to be able to defend her, if it comes to that."
"Tony--"
"Can the both of you shut up?" Natasha snapped, cutting Steve off. "If there actually is anything in here, you've probably already alerted it to our presence because of your pointless yapping."
They both stared at her, affronted.
"So quit it," she said, completely unfazed. "Rogers, you refused to leave the kid in S.H.I.E.L.D custody, so this is the only option we've got. Stark, stop being so flippant about her safety."
"And you," Natasha fixed her catlike eyes on Cerise, who narrowly resisted the urge to shrink away from her gaze. "Use that device of yours and tell me if there's anything inside this filthy warehouse that shouldn't be there."
"Sure," Cerise raised her detector out in front of her. It beeped faintly, glowing electric blue.
"It's not much, but I'm definitely picking up some traces of radiation," she informed them.
"Could be more eggs," Tony nodded.
"Could also be something else," Steve replied grimly, motioning towards Cerise. "Stay behind me."
They entered the warehouse warily, the smell of mildew and damp assaulting their noses as soon they stepped inside.
The faint sound of water dripping down followed their footsteps as they went deeper into the deserted building.
"I'm not seeing anything unusual," Natasha's alert eyes scanned the area expertly. "No pods, for sure."
"Are you sure this thing of yours works, kid?" Tony huffed.
"It used to," Cerise said uncertainly. "I swear that there's--"
The detector suddenly let out a strident beep, hurting Cerise's eyes with the brightness of its light.
"Mr. Rogers, I-"
She was cut off by a sharp, screeching noise, as part of the roof of the warehouse was rent apart--
And came crashing down barely an inch away from their heads.
It took Cerise a split second to realize that there was a creature on top of the dilapidated remains of the roof, shredding the metal-coated surface with razor-tipped claws.
Steve and Tony instantly closed ranks around Cerise--like stage curtains sliding shut.
The creature let out a chittering snarl and leaned back on its haunches, readying itself to attack.
It was four-legged with ridged spikes on its mottled green back--beady black eyes staring malevolently at the four of them.
"That doesn't look like a Chitauri," Steve doubled his hands into fists.
"Yeah, no kidding, old man," Tony rolled his eyes before his visor obscured his face.
The creature poised itself to spring at them--and then fixed it's predatory gaze on Cerise.
It froze, utterly motionless--eyes locked on Cerise's.
A guttural, spitting noise emanated from its elapine throat as the creature continued to look at her--almost as if--as if it was trying to communicate with her.
"Is it--is it trying to talk?" Steve echoed Cerise's thoughts.
The creature hissed again, pawing at the ground--and before it could so much as move, Natasha tackled it to the floor, knife pressed against it's scaled neck.
"Nat--wait--" Steve called out urgently, but the spy didn't listen.
"H---h--heir," the creature choked out against the cold steel pressing into its throat as it still stared at Cerise, twisting the words around its serrated tongue with a strange sort of inflection, as if it had never used the language before.
"You...are...heir..." it continued, addressing the horrified Cerise. "Have...orders...to..."
The tip of its tail glimmered a lurid shade of vermilion--and Steve shouted at Natasha to get back.
She barely managed to roll away in time--the creature exploded, black blood spraying everywhere.
Cerise slowly lifted her gaze to meet the three pairs of eyes boring into her.

~~~

"Why the fuck is an alien calling you an heir? What did it fucking mean?" Tony pointed a finger at Cerise accusingly. " Why the hell does it know who you are? "
Cerise's shoulders caved in under the force of Tony's glare.
"I don't-- I don't know--I really don't have any idea, please, you have to believe me--" she pleaded, wringing her hands as Tony shook his head disgustedly.
Cerise backed away from the irate Avenger--quailing as she realized that even Natasha was pinning her with suspicious eyes.
"That's enough, Tony," Steve stepped in front of Cerise, blocking her from the gazes of the other two. "She told you already--she doesn't know."
Tony didn't spare him a response, turning on his heel and striding out of the room.
"Wait, Natasha--" Steve called after her tiredly, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had already followed Tony out, looking over her shoulder at Steve to tell him that she would be notifying Fury of the day's events.
Steve wearily pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sorry," Cerise said miserably, hunching into herself even further. "I--"
"You have nothing to apologize for," Steve interrupted her quietly. "None of this is your fault."
Cerise's jewel-toned eyes widened--the raw, naked hope shining through in them causing a peculiar ache to flare in Steve's chest.
"You believe me?" She asked in amazement.
"Yes I do," Steve told her firmly. "If you had something to hide, you wouldn't have shown us your device or led us to that alien. I know you're scared--but I want you to know I'm going to do my best to get to the bottom of this. We all will."
"Even Mr. Stark?" Cerise blinked up at him uncertainly.
"Even Mr. Stark," he repeated with a faint smile.
And Cerise--" Steve paused, clearly debating whether he should continue. "I didn't want you to go alone to S.H.I.E.L.D for a reason. I don't trust them--they always have an agenda, and if it doesn't align with what other people want, they don't much care. Be careful--they see you as an asset more than a person."
She paled visibly, tawny skin bleaching itself of color.
"And what do you see me as?"
Steve's lips quirked upward, but his eyes were solemn as they fell upon Cerise.
"Someone who could make a difference," he answered, getting to his feet. "If she tried to."
"Mr. Rogers--" Cerise caught hold of Steve's sleeve before he could walk out of the room, winding her slender fingers around the material.
"Thank you," she said sincerely, the gratitude on her face so transparent and open it flustered Steve entirely. "Just--thank you so much. For believing me, for looking out for me--everything, I--"
The corner of Cerise's mouth flicked up even as her breath hitched-- celadon eyes gleaming sheer vulnerability.
"No one's ever done that for me before."

~~~

Jhago paced past the platinum walls of their vessel, gaze heavy upon his companion.
"This was a close call, Quotho," he chastised, finally breaking the silence. "Not all of our servants are as intelligent as the one they found today. If it had revealed anything--"
"But it didn't," Quotho replied calmly. "It self-destructed before they could try and get information out of it."
"But if the Avengers start looking into this--"
"Let them," Quotho clapped Jhago on his armor-covered shoulder. "Let them run around like the ants they are, searching for clues. They won't find any."
He surveyed the overcast sky from the gangplank of the vessel.
"We have kept this secret for twenty years, Jhago. We will keep it for twenty more--no matter who comes in our way."

Chapter Text

Opia

Steve entered the room absentmindedly, preoccupied with thoughts of his pending paperwork-- immediately crouching down in alarm when he found Cerise huddled on the floor with her knees up against her chest.
"Cerise?" He said urgently, hand winding around her thin arm. "What's wrong?"
She looked up at him with eyes so dark, they were almost the color of moss during midnight.
Cerise pointed wordlessly to the open door--and even from three floors up, Steve could hear the acrid, angry voices leaking into the room.
"Mr. Stark and Miss Potts have been fighting for hours," she said, voice barely a whisper. "I--I don't like raised voices. They....bring up bad memories."
Steve sat back on his heels--it wasn't what he'd been expecting.
Cerise ducked her head, not daring to meet Steve's gaze to find only disgust there--or worse, pity.
"I know it's stupid--"
"It's not," Steve refuted, and there was no judgment in his electric blue eyes--only a serene sort of acceptance. "We all have our demons--you have nothing to be ashamed of."
She gave him a wan smile, irises still devoid of their usual light.
Steve made a split second decision as he offered Cerise his hand to lift herself up with.
Her skin felt like liquid silk as it brushed against his fingers.
Steve hastily let his hand drop away, lifting something from the table and motioning towards Cerise to follow him.
"Come on. I have to show you something."
She trailed after him in puzzled silence, glancing at him curiously as they went up the elevator.
Cerise's eyes widened as the elevator doors slid open--she stepped out slowly, conscious of Steve at her side.
"You've never been up to the rooftop, have you?" Steve didn't wait for an answer, leaning against the railing as he looked out at the view.
There was a slight chill in the air, the cool wind fanning gently across Cerise's face as she joined Steve.
Twilight stretched its rose-red fingers across the darkening sky, a last farewell from the setting sun.
"I come up here and watch the sunset when things get to be a little too much," he told her, still looking out at the horizon. "It helps me think. And reminds me that no matter what happens, the sun will set and rise once again--that life will go on."
For one long, but strangely fleeting moment, Cerise wanted to wrap her arms around Steve. She didn't know how he did it, or whether it was even his intent to--but he managed to make her feel safe in her most vulnerable moments.
He made her feel less alone--and for Cerise, who had become so accustomed to living behind a glass wall that separated her from the rest of the world--found that it was surreal to discover how easily it had been breached by Steve.
Steve looked at her oddly.
"Is there something on my face?" He hesitantly asked.
Cerise snapped out of her reverie in an instant, realizing with mortification that she had been staring at Steve for several minutes.
"N-no," she waved her hands wildly, face flushed and burning. "Nothing-- I just--"
She swallowed the rest of her words, composing herself.
"The view's beautiful," Cerise said softly. "Thank you for showing it to me, Mr. Rogers."
Steve grinned at her.
"Can't hear those two go at it from up here, can you?"
Cerise blinked in surprise, the fact not dawning on her until then that she could no longer hear Tony and Pepper arguing.
"So," Steve passed a small laptop into her grasp. "I was thinking we could finally get around to watching one of those uh...musicals, you like so much?"
The full force of Cerise's smile hit Steve in the face as it blossomed into existence--even after the past few months he'd spent around her, it hadn't lost its potency in the slightest--Steve wanted to shade his eyes in the wake of its quiet brilliance.
"Wait," Steve peered uncertainly at the laptop. "This is how you watch movies, right? On this thing?"
His look of bewilderment was so endearing Cerise couldn't help but laugh--struck with the sudden urge to touch Steve.
It was a simple sort of want--Cerise wished nothing more than to have the innocent weight of his hand atop hers.
She shook her head rapidly, retreating from the path her thoughts had taken her down.
"Yeah, this is how you watch them," she replied amusedly. "Is there somewhere we can sit over here?"
In answer, Steve pulled two flimsy-looking lawn chairs out into the middle of the rooftop, kicking a rickety folding table in between them.
"Is Moulin Rouge okay?" Cerise asked nervously, fingers dancing across the keypad as she sat down.
"Sure," Steve settled down next to her, eyes as tranquil as lake-water reflecting the light of dawn. "Whatever you like."
Steve leaned forward, his shoulder a mere inch away from Cerise's.
As she watched him become engrossed in the movie; for the first time, she no longer felt the hollowness that had echoed inside the caverns of her hungry heart for as long as she could remember.
For the first time in forever, Cerise felt whole.

~~~

A sharp rapping on her door startled Cerise away from her book.
"Mr. Rogers?" She called uncertainly. "You can come in."
It didn't sound like it was Steve at her door however--the knock had been far too impatient.
"It's not Cap," Tony flung the door open and strode in. "Though I think it's very interesting that you instantly thought it was him. In your room often, is he?"
Cerise gaped at him.
"What--no--he just--in the morning--wakes me-" she spluttered incoherently.
"Relax, kid," Tony snorted. "I'm just messing with you."
She stared at him indignantly.
Tony surveyed her room, brown eyes narrowed in an almost-squint.
"It's so neat in here that it's downright painful," he commented. "Looks like a monk's living here."
Cerise waited silently--she had been around Tony enough to know when he was deflecting.
He shifted uncomfortably--
And with a long drawn out breath, finally broached the subject.
"I wanted to apologize to you, ki--Cerise," Tony began reluctantly. "I shouldn't have said anything to you about that alien--I realize now that you had nothing to do with it. Steve believed you from the beginning, and I should have too. I would have, if I'd bothered to think it through before I accused you. I'm--I'm sorry."
Cerise felt something that had lodged itself in her throat ever since the incident loosen at last.
"Thank you for your apology," she said, green eyes serious and calm. "And I understand. If I were in your place, I would have probably done the same."
Tony shook his head, a faint upturn to his lips.
"No you wouldn't."
"No I wouldn't," Cerise admitted with a grudging smile. "But I understand anyway, Mr. Stark."
He nodded, clearly discomfited.
"And the lab is still open to you," Tony added hurriedly. "If you ever feel like making something. And--if you don't mind, you could show me how to make that gamma detector of yours. We'll need as many as we can get if we're going to get to the bottom of why that creature was running around, not to mention why and how he knew you."
"I don't mind," Cerise said, pleased. "We can start tomorrow."
"Right," Tony stood up. "Great. Good talk."
He turned to leave--but something in the weary lines of his face, the furrow permanently etched into his forehead--made Cerise call him back. She realized, behind his stinging sarcasm and caustic quips--was a real person, separate from the cloak of Iron Man that he wrapped around his vulnerabilities. The suit was a physical manifestation of the armor Tony had locked around himself--and outside of it, he was just as human as the rest of them.
And he'd been hurt today--Cerise could see the pain in the backs of his eyes.
"Mr. Stark," she said tentatively. "I'm sorry about you and Miss Potts. Do you--do you maybe want to talk about it?"
He stared at her, and for a half-second she thought he would rebuff her offer--
But then he sank back down on the chair heavily.
"Sure, why not, kid," he said tiredly. "Why not."

Chapter Text

Uncomfortable Truths

"So this is how you do it, right?" Tony welded the device together, shielding himself behind his visor from the red-hot sparks. "Is the wiring okay?"
"Yep," Cerise nodded, still looking with incredulous eyes around his lab. She had never seen a better-equipped or more opulent working space--and it only served to exacerbate her growing concerns.
"You're doing it perfectly," she assured Tony.
"Of course I am," he smirked at her. "I'm a genius."
Cerise bit her lip, dreading the conversation she was about to have with Tony--but it had to be said. She couldn't in good conscience allow things to continue as they had been.
"Mr. Stark," she swallowed hard, throat constricting. "I have to tell you something."
"Hmm?" He didn't look up from the worktable, barely paying her any attention.
She let out a long, final breath.
"I don't think I can live at the compound like this any longer," Cerise admitted, feeling an immense sense of relief as the words escaped from her at last.
The tongs Tony had been holding clattered onto the table.
"What the fuck?" He demanded. "Why?"
"Please don't get me wrong," Cerise pleaded. "I am so grateful to you and Mr. Rogers for taking me in--you have no idea how much. I just--I just feel like I'm freeloading here. Mr. Stark, you house me, and clothe me, and feed me--and I've done nothing to earn it. Absolutely nothing. I don't--I don't want to be a charity case."
"Are you nuts?" Tony frowned at her. "No one thinks of you as a charity case. Steve doesn't pay anything to live here--have you ever seen him bothered over it? I'm a billionaire--I have enough money to fund the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. five times over--and still be rich at the end of it. It is literally of no cost to me to keep you here."
Cerise sighed.
"Mr. Rogers contributes to S.H.I.E.L.D--he goes on missions. He works. What am I doing?"
"I know it doesn't cause you any trouble, Mr. Stark," she continued resolutely. "But that isn't the point. It's the principle of the thing--I hope you can understand. I don't mean to offend you."
Tony huffed, crossing his arms.
"You're serious about this?"
"Yes," Cerise replied firmly. "I am."
"Fine," Tony appeared to be mulling something over. "How about this. I could use an assistant in here when I'm developing more tech. I can see you know enough to be of some help--no idea how you managed that without any formal training, by the way--but hey, whatever works right? So after your lessons with Cap and Natasha, come here and work with me. You won't have much free time--but you can consider that your way of paying me back or earning your place here, or whatever other lofty nonsense you've stuffed your head with."
He pinned her under his gaze.
"Does that work for you?"
Cerise blinked at him dazedly--she hadn't expected Tony to take it as well as he had, much less offer her a solution.
"Yeah," she said gratefully. "Yeah it does. I just want to give back what I owe you--what I'll keep owing you. Thank you for understanding, Mr. Stark. Really--I appreciate it."
"You're a strange one, kid," Tony snorted. "But you're proud. I like that."
Cerise smiled at him shyly as they resumed work.
She let the silence linger in the air for a while, before tentatively asking--
"How are things with you and Miss Potts now?"
Tony sighed, face seeming to age five years in a trice.
"It's the same as before, kid. Like I told you--Pepper wants me to stop making suits, to stop working with S.H.I.E.L.D--she's terrified that one day I'm going to walk into a fight I won't be able to come back from--and I can't blame her for it. But I know what I saw, inside that portal or whatever it was--there's an entire army out there. And they're angry--they hate us--they would do anything to destroy this place. Our safety is hanging by a thread--"
Tony lifted up his visor, passing a weary hand over his face.
"I love Pepper," he continued. "I do. And there's nothing I wouldn't do for her--but is it fair of me to put her before the rest of the world? We're in danger--I know that for a fact. I've seen it. Isn't it my responsibility to try and prevent that?"
Cerise's eyes were emerald-warm and empathetic as they rested upon Tony.
"It isn't your responsibility alone," she said softly. "Wasn't that the whole point of creating the Avengers? To be able to do things together that you couldn't on your own?"
"You have so many people willing to help," Cerise reminded Tony. "Even if they don't say it. Mr. Rogers, Miss Romanov, Mr Barton--they'd fight to protect this world, just as much as you would. And you're allowed to be selfish, Mr. Stark--you're only human. You have the right to want happiness for yourself."
Tony stared at her.
He opened his mouth but stopped himself abruptly when the door swung open.
Steve poked his head in cautiously.
"Alright if I come in?"
"You already have," Tony answered, but there was no bite to his tone.
Steve looked curiously around at the loose wiring littered throughout the room.
"I just came to tell you two I'm leaving," he explained, though his gaze was mostly on Cerise. "There's some sort of international ring that's gotten hold of sensitive government records. Fury wants me to bring them back and capture whoever's involved."
"I figured he'd want to send one of us somewhere soon," Tony nodded, unsurprised. "How's the taskforce he's given you?"
Steve gave a non-committal jerk of his head.
"Decent enough, I suppose. I'll make do."
"Good luck, Mr. Rogers," Cerise lifted her hand as if to brush it against his--but after a momentary pause, let it fall away unnoticed.
"I'll get you to call me Steve one day, see if I don't," he said, nudging her almost playfully. "Train hard with Nat, alright? Practice on your own, too."
"Sure," Cerise smiled at him gently. "Of course I will. Be safe out there."
"I should be back in a week," Steve squeezed her shoulder briefly. "I'll see you."
"Bye," Cerise said quietly, a faint downward crease to her lips as she watched him leave.
"Oh come on," Tony snapped irritably. "You don't have to look so sad about it. Now get a move on--we have work to do."

Chapter Text

Homecoming

"Mr. Stark," Cerise said insistently, impervious to his efforts to assuage her. "It has been more than two weeks. You have to look for him--or tell S.H.I.E.L.D. to do it."
"S.H.I.E.L.D would risk revealing their mission if they started trying to find out where he is," Tony dismissed. "They won't do that. And kid, I'm sure he's fine. Something must have come up--you know he can handle himself."
"Mr. Rogers said he wouldn't take longer than a week!" Cerise exclaimed, aghast. "It's been nearly three, Mr. Stark. He could be captured, or hurt, or worse--"
"Hey, hey," Tony cut her off. "Nothing is as bad as you're making it out to be, Cerise. It's Steve we're talking about here--the man can rip a log in half with his bare hands. I promise you, he's got it covered."
Cerise breathed out heavily through her nose, feeling the urge to shout at Tony for the very first time.
"Oh look at that, you're actually glaring at me," He gave her a sardonic grin. "That's a first."
When Cerise only stared at him in disapproving silence, Tony sighed in defeat.
"Look, if he's not back in the next two days, I'll find him. Alright?"
Cerise didn't bother with a response, turning on her heel to leave the lab.
She could feel the panic swilling inside her, rising like bile in her throat.
The burn of it was alien to her--as was the realization of how much she'd come to rely on Steve. Cerise had never thought of blue as a warm color until she'd seen Steve's eyes. They reminded her of ocean waves under the light of a spring sun--she'd learned to look for them around the compound when she needed reassurance--when she needed not to feel alone. He'd steadied her---been the anchor under her feet that tethered her to this new life. Cerise hadn't realized his presence was what had turned the compound from a house into a home--not until it'd gone missing.
The rooms seemed somehow colder without him in them--lacking some inexplicable quality that Cerise couldn't figure out for the life of her.
Cerise felt strangely adrift--insubstantial even, without the familiar weight of his presence bolstering her.
And her fear for him grew in increments with each day that passed without his return.
Cerise sunk into the downy depth of her bed, tightly screwing her eyes shut--
And hoped, that when she opened them again--
Steve would be there.

~~~

Steve limped in through the door, wincing with every step. The mission hadn't gone according to plan in any way whatsoever--and he had been hard-pressed getting himself and his team out of it unscathed.
"You!" Came an irate voice, and Steve started in surprise at finding Tony awake at a quarter past one in the morning.
"It's about time you came back!" Tony pointed an accusing finger at him. "Do you know how much the kid has been badgering me about you? 'Where is he, why isn't he here, something must have happened to him, do something Mr. Stark', and on and on and on it went."
Steve blinked, nonplussed.
"I--"
"Do you know how worried she's been? Or more importantly, the headache she's been giving me because of it?" Tony demanded, but there was a sharp sort of relief to his voice in spite of it all.
Steve opened his mouth again but subsided under Tony's scowl.
The sound of feet pattering against the plush carpet was his only warning before Cerise came nearly careening into the room--
And flung her arms around him.
Steve froze, acutely aware of the delicate press of her body against his.
When was the last time someone had hugged him?
Steve couldn't recall it, the memories seemed submerged in a coat of ice-- just as he had once been.
"I missed you," Cerise murmured into the broad curve of his shoulder, so quietly that even Tony, who was standing just a few steps away, couldn't hear. "I thought--I thought you might not come back."
Her gossamer-spun hair tickled Steve's cheek like the touch of a butterfly's wings.
Steve breathed in her soothing scent--it was the same as ever, crushed lotus blossoms and neroli oil with a hint of cinnamon.
He remembered noticing when it first permeated their living space--how it brought to mind the lazy midsummer evenings of his childhood, when the sky was warmly washed with the golden haze of the setting sun.
It suffused his senses, loosening a knot that he hadn't realized had tightened in his chest since the day he'd left the compound.
"I'm here now," he said gently, managing to give her a one-handed pat on the back despite the strange woodenness belying his movements. "I'm sorry I took so long."
"Hi."
A rose-tinted flush stole into Cerise's cheeks as she shyly withdrew from him.
"Hi," Steve said softly, an involuntary smile spreading across his lips.
Tony let out a disgusted scoff.
"It's like I'm not even here. Can you two take your puke-inducing sappiness somewhere else, please?"
Steve and Cerise wore twin expressions of extreme discomfiture.

~~~

"They were about to escape on a boat," Steve explained to Tony, tired muscles crying out in gratitude as he settled into the soft, accommodating folds of the sofa.
"We thought we had the situation well in hand, but they shot our hovercraft down."
Steve shook his head silently to reassure Cerise as she turned to look at him in alarm.
She didn't normally include herself in conversations in which they discussed work--Steve suspected it was because she felt out of place and unwelcome in their midst still--but she had chosen to stay today, curled up quietly on the other side of him.
"We overpowered them of course, but essentially all of us were stranded--things looked pretty grim until a military ship spotted our team and took us on board--and even then, it took a long time for us to reach a place where I could contact S.H.I.E.L.D. to pick me up."
Steve was perplexed at the pointed look Cerise shot Tony at this-- and at the dark glower she received in return.
He continued on nevertheless; stopping only when he heard a muffled thump--a light weight falling on his shoulder.
Cerise was fast asleep--head resting against Steve's wide shoulder, her curtain of inky hair obscuring her face from view.
"Awwww," Tony clicked his tongue mockingly, voice dripping with derision. "How absolutely precious."
Steve shifted in place, at a loss on knowing what to do.
"Admit it," Tony gave him an infuriatingly smug wink. "You're enjoying this, Rogers."
"I most certainly am not," Steve replied primly. "This is just an inconvenience."
"Okay, if you say so," Tony stretched an arm towards Cerise. "I'll just wake her up then, shall I--"
"No!" Steve said instantly, swatting Tony's hand away with his free hand at once.
He cringed as Cerise stirred in her sleep for a moment, sighing in relief when she settled back against his shoulder.
"Yeah," Tony snickered at Steve as he got to his feet. "That's what I thought."
He frowned at Tony's triumphant expression.
When Tony turned to look back at him before leaving the room, his face was devoid of its usual jeering cast.
"She was genuinely worried about you," he said slowly, eyes heavy on Steve's. "Make of that what you will."
Steve turned to look at Cerise with new eyes.
He was sore, exhausted and barely awake, his suit clinging suffocatingly to his sweat-soaked skin.
Steve's entire arm was already screaming in protest--but at that moment, there was no other place Steve wanted to be except on that couch, with Cerise's head against his shoulder.
The feeling had been gone so long from his life, Steve didn't know what to do with the sensation when it finally hit him---the sweet sacredness of having someone to come home to--someone who worried and waited for his return.
As he watched Cerise, her features soft and muted in sleep---
The first flickering ember of warmth kindled to life in Steve's chest.

Chapter Text

Fire Burn, And Cauldron Bubble

"My shadow tells me the girl grows ever closer to that soldier--Rogers," Jhago met Quotho's gaze evenly. "It is not desirable--not in the slightest."
"No, it is not," Quotho agreed, the stone-cracked gray skin between his brows creasing with every word. "She needs to remain pure for our purposes."
Jhago shook his head disgustedly.
"She may already have been rendered impure. We only found her in recent years--who knows what happened before then?"
"The girl is our vessel," Quotho replied quietly. "You know we have ways of decontaminating vessels."
"Quotho! The process--" Jhago gaped at him in shock. "There is very little chance that it will leave her body intact. You can't possibly expect her to survive it--"
"What other choice do we have?" Quotho demanded. "If this she-creature has been defiled as we assume--the ritual cannot take place. It will not take place--unless she is cleansed."
"But the risk--"
"The risk was always there, Jhago. It has been there for twenty years. The real risk--of what we stand to lose if the girl is allowed to live long enough to find her way back to where she was born. If she is allowed to live long enough to grow into her powers---if she breaks past that seal that's keeping them locked--that risk, Jhago."
A deadened sort of flame guttered in Quotho's eyes as he stared fixedly at Jhago.
After a tense silence, he averted his gaze from Quotho's, resignation evident in the droop of his shoulders.
"As you will it, my liege," Jhago said finally. "Is it ready?"
Quotho bent down to where the vat hissed sibilantly, steam rising off of it in wispy curls.
The obsidian liquid sloshed angrily against the sides of the cauldron, the sheen of its surface so bright it looked as though it were polished with a coat of black lacquer.
"Soon," he promised Jhago. "It will be ready very soon."
"And what of the soldier?" The smaller of the two inquired. "We cannot let this continue."
"We won't," Quotho promised. "Just because I am biding my time does not mean that I plan to sit idly by. We cannot call attention to ourselves in any way until the preparations are complete in all aspects--this is the most crucial part of it. Once that is done--"
Quotho tightened his clawed hands into fists, unmindful of how they cut jagged lines into his palms.
"You can be sure Steven Grant Rogers will be eliminated."

~~~

The watery yellow sunlight filtered through the glass-paned windows, still managing to pierce Cerise's eyelids despite the muted quality of its glare.
She shifted drowsily, sleepily wondering why her pillow felt so much firmer than usual.
Cerise finally let her eyes open--and found her face buried in the tight blue material of Steve's suit.
For one brief moment, she was arrested by the steady rise and fall of Steve's chest, by the way sleep softened his features--
And then Cerise realized exactly what she'd done--and twisted away from Steve so violently she toppled off the sofa head-first.
He woke with a start, crystal-blue eyes foggy with sleep--and met Cerise's gaze instantly.
Cerise couldn't even get up off the floor, so conscious was she of the red-hot burning in her face.
"I--I'm so sorry---" the words fell from her mouth in a rushing torrent. "I didn't mean to, I swear--"
Steve opened his mouth.
"Cerise--"
She didn't even seem to hear him.
"You were hurt--and I must have made you so uncomfortable--I--"
Steve tried again.
"Cerise--"
But she'd already turned and fled from the room.
Steve shook his head and got to his feet, wincing as his stiff muscles twinged in protest.
He couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at his lips, amusedly thinking of Cerise's flustered face just minutes before--of the pretty cherry hue that had imbued her cheeks.
Steve bent his head to the side, trying to work out the aggravating crick in his neck.
"Morning Rogers," Natasha walked soundlessly into the room. "Did you have a nice night?"
Steve narrowed his eyes at the pointed leer on her face.
"Stark told you, didn't he," he sighed in resignation.
"You bet your ass I did," Tony sauntered into the room with a triumphant smirk. "I told everyone--even Clint."
Steve glared at him.
"I just saw the kid racing into her room as if her life depended on it," Natasha informed the two. "So I take it the morning after went well, huh, Rogers?"
Steve breathed through his nose heavily as the two snickered at his obvious aggravation.
"I don't understand why I'm being singled out for this undeserved ridicule," he said, affronted. "I didn't even choose for it to happen. Cerise is the one who slept on my shoulder. Why aren't you lot saying anything to her?"
"Because teasing her would sort of be the equivalent of teasing a real-life Bambi," Tony answered thoughtfully. "Just wouldn't sit right--picking on a defenseless creature like that. And besides, you give better reactions."
"Plus, the way Tony told it, you didn't do anything to stop her sleeping on you, did you, Steve?" Natasha added mischievously. "Admit it, old man. You enjoyed it every minute of it."
"I most certainly did not," Steve refuted peevishly, eye twitching in annoyance.
"Then why didn't you push her off?" Tony asked slyly. "You didn't let me wake her up either."
Steve scowled, marching out of the room in the wake of their laughter.

Chapter Text

The Lull Between Storms

"Agent Hill," Fury strode across the helipad where the slim woman stood waiting for him. "What's your report on Solange's progress?"
"Romanov is--"
Fury cut her off before she could finish her sentence.
"I don't care about her physical training," he waved a hand dismissively. "She can take her time with that. I want to know about her lessons with Rogers--can she control her magic now?"
"Rogers is as reticent as ever," Hill replied evenly. "He never tells us a thing, and I don't think he's about to start anytime soon. But Romanov tells me Solange hasn't mastered the use of her powers yet--far from it in fact."
"I knew it," Nick shook his head, unsurprised. "Rogers is too soft on her--she needs to be put through the wringer. I thought he could manage, but maybe I was mistaken--it's been over three months and there's barely any progress to show for it."
"I don't think that's a fair assessment, sir, " Maria countered. "Steve Rogers may be a product of the super-serum--he's the epitome of what a perfect soldier should be--but at the end of the day, he's still just human. He has no experience with whatever magic this girl uses--no one does--and it's unnatural. We've never seen anything like it before. He's doing the best he can, and she is improving, albeit slowly."
"Be that as it may, this arrangement clearly isn't working as fast as I wanted it to," Fury insisted. "S.H.I.E.L.D could benefit a great deal from her skillset if she were working for us---but that can only happen if she knows how to use her magic. There's more to this than meets the eye, Hill--there's no earthly reason why an alien from outer space should recognize an orphan girl from the seediest part of New York."
"But it did," he continued. "Which means Solange is special--and I'm making it my business to find out why."
"But first," Fury signaled the helicopter to prepare for liftoff. "We need her to be able to effectively use her magic--or whatever it is Solange has."
"So what are you going to do?" Hill crossed her arms.
"For now?" Nick walked up the ramp to the chopper. "Nothing. You and I have a mission to complete first."
"And once we're back?" Hill prodded as she followed after him.
Fury raised his voice over the whirring of the helicopter's blades.
"You were the one who ran analytics on her, Hill. This shouldn't surprise you--her powers only ever flare up when she's threatened--or something she cares about is threatened."
Nick turned the full force of his gaze on Hill.
"She needs a push--a big one. And I'm going to give it to her."

~~~

Not for the first time that week; nor the last, if he was really being honest with himself--Steve invariably found his feet leading him down to the lab.
He peered around the door hesitantly, but as always, Cerise came bounding up to him with the latest project of the day.
"Mr. Rogers!"
Steve couldn't help the indulgent smile that crossed his features as he looked at Cerise's brightly-pleased eyes while she waved a metal contraption in the air--at eyes that were pleased to see him.
"Mr. Stark wants to add detachable knives that he can use as projectile weapons to his suit," she explained to him. "That's what we're working on today!"
"What can I say," Tony said dryly, coming up behind Cerise to nod a greeting at Steve. "I'm trying to get in touch with my inner ninja."
Tony nudged Cerise's shoulder.
"Run along kid, work on that wiring for me."
"Sure," she flashed a smile at both of them before moving to the back of the room, out of earshot.
"So," Tony raised a thin eyebrow at Steve. "Been seeing you in here a lot these days, Rogers."
The soldier shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, you know, I guess I just got curious about what you do in here."
"Well, you've certainly never done it before," Tony pointed out cattily. "Rather unusual, don't you think?"
"If it bothers you so much, I can leave," Steve snapped, aggravated.
"Hey, I'm just saying," Tony raised his hands in the air, feigning innocence. "No need to get so crabby about it."
Steve crossed his arms.
"I'm just curious," he insisted mulishly. "That's all."
"Right," Tony said, unconvinced. "And this has absolutely nothing to do with a certain doe-eyed little snippet who just happens to work here every day now?"
Inwardly, Steve cursed, but kept his face even.
"Nothing at all," he replied anyway, resolute.
Tony rolled his eyes skyward.
"You are so full of shit, Rogers."
Steve glared at him, but within the safety of his own thoughts--he could admit Tony had the right of it. He'd become used to having Cerise around most of the day--
Looked forward to it even, as the one bright spot in the otherwise monotonous flow of his daily life.
So when she'd begun spending a sizeable time down at the lab after whatever discussion she and Tony had had--Steve couldn't help but follow after her.
It wasn't even as if it were a conscious decision on Steve's part--Cerise just seemed to tug him to her wherever she went.
Steve felt a quiet sense of contentment as he watched Cerise's open, vibrant face--it had bothered him to see her feel so palpably out of place in the compound--but it didn't seem to be so much the case now, and Steve was satisfied. He wanted to see her grow into her own skin--and she was, bit by bit.
"Wiring's done, Mr. Stark," Cerise reappeared next to Tony, causing Steve to break off his train of thought. "Should we get to motor function next?"
"Sure," Tony didn't even look up from the table where his metal suit lay, absently stretching out a hand to ruffle Cerise's hair. "In a moment, Bambi."
Cerise's mouth fell upon with a pop.
"Did you--did you just call me Bambi?" She demanded of Tony indignantly.
"Yeah," Tony assented breezily. "Fits you, don't you think?"
Cerise spluttered in indignation, scarlet-faced.
"I-- you--that's not--"
"What's a Bambi?" Steve asked in confusion, inadvertently cutting Cerise off.
"It's a deer," Tony informed him lazily, a mischievous smile on his face. "A baby deer. All big-eyed and fluffy-tailed."
"Hmm," Steve fought back a smirk at Cerise's piqued face. "You know what, I can see the resemblance."
Cerise scowled as the two broke into fits of laughter.

Chapter Text

Out Of The Realms Of Possibility

The girl smiled at the soldier, the buttery yellow sunlight slanting into the room turning her eyes to translucent green glass.
He too seemed to respond in kind, the daylight smoothening out the hardened edges of his features as he looked at the girl.
They didn't see the shadow collecting like a dark pool of ink in the crevices underneath the door--it was likely they never would.
No one ever did.
It soared over the New York skyline back to its master, the concrete jungle underneath it glittering like cemented diamond.
Quotho stood waiting by the spaceship that was invisible to all eyes but his.
The shadow gave its report in a series of hissing clicks.
"So they grow closer by the day," Quotho surmised to himself, grim but unsurprised. "I must act, and soon."
He turned his head towards the interior of the vessel--where he knew the potion waited, tantalizingly close to completion.
He was bound to inaction till it was fully ready--and it grated on him--
The years of constant searching and toil finally a stone's throw away from fruition.
It had been a question of survival for his entire race--for their supremacy after years of slinking amidst their own shadows--but despite what had been at stake, only Jhago had stepped to join his side in his twenty-year-long quest.
His brother in all but blood.
There was no room for failure--not even the slightest error.
There was simply too much riding on their shoulders--the first faint stirrings of rebellion already beginning to chase at their heels.
The girl had to undergo the ritual so they could obtain what they wanted from her--
And then she had to die.
She was all that stood between them and true greatness--and yet, they needed her.
It infuriated Quotho--that they were so dependent on her, on what she could do--on what lay quietly sleeping in her veins.
The years seemed to curl back on themselves in Quotho's mind, as he revisited how it had all started two decades ago....
The streets ran red with rivulets of blood, the wails of dying men and the keening of the women in mourning hanging heavy in the air like mist.
Quotho surveyed the carnage with a vicious sense of pleasure, stepping through the pile of bodies strewn like refuse across the once-gleaming roads.
They had won.
At long last, they had won.
"Where is the infant?" Jhago asked, cutting a swathe through the blood-clogged streets with his sword. "We left orders not to kill it."
"Where the rest of the accursed family lies dying, no doubt," Quotho replied tersely, kicking aside the battered body of a child. "This war is at an end. We take the infant and go."
Jhago nodded, the two of them hastening their pace as the spires of the domed building loomed closer and closer---as they walked on, the screams of the dying faded away.
There was an expectant sort of silence as they entered the building at last--as if the very air held in a bated breath.
Here too, bodies lay sprawled in various states of dismemberment--the only difference the silk of their clothes as opposed to the rough hemp of those on the streets.
They were all equal before the pitiless gaze of death.
But Quotho wasn't interested in them or their ranks--he wanted the leaders. The heads--or more importantly--the daughter of the leaders.
Their feet left claret-stained prints on the gem-inlaid tiles as they breached the inner sanctum of the building.
Quotho paused as they entered the innermost area--the face of the man lying prone on the floor was as well-known to him as his own, even disfigured as it was with the splicing cuts of a rapier.
"So the mighty Tristan has fallen at last," Jhago said scathingly. "Long may he reign in the forges of hell, as befits his perfidious nature."
But Quotho only had eyes for the woman curled in a limp heap on the floor, the blood seeping so thoroughly into her hair that it was impossible to ascertain its original color.

He bent over her still form, tossing her arms aside to see if she was sheltering the infant they so desperately sought.
He stiffened in anticipation as he pried a soft woolen bundle from the woman's arms--but it was empty. There was nothing, and no-one, in it.
Quotho froze, and then found the eyes of the woman open and blazing green upon him.
He lifted her up by her blood-slick hair, so that she dangled in the air in front of him.
"Where is the child?" He demanded. "I will keep you alive just to hear you scream if you do not tell me, Gordayna. You have no power anymore. Your land is lost to you."
Gordayna laughed--a dry, wracking chuckle--and spit at him.
"She is gone," she said with rattling breaths, chest heaving with the effort. "You will never find her."
Quotho hit her across the face with an open palm--Gordayna fell to the floor with a resounding crack, blood leaking out of her ravaged mouth.
"We are the best hunters to ever live," Quotho snarled. "I will overturn heaven itself if I must to find that baby--and I will."
Despite his words, the vindictive triumph in Gordayna's eyes chilled Quotho to the bone. They were not the eyes of a defeated woman--not even close.
"I have sent her somewhere you will never be able to go," Gordayna rasped. "There is no place in this land where you will find her--magic or no magic."
Dread washed over Quotho as the implication of Gordayna's words settled upon him.
"You have doomed her as certainly as if she were in our hands," Quotho said, aghast. "Her death is as inevitable over there as it would be here with us."
"No," Gordayna shook her head. "She will return. My daughter is the last true living descendant--our greatest, and our only legacy. She will return--and when she does, the mountains will tremble before her wrath. It has been foretold--you think you have won today. Savor it while you can, beast--she will rain fire upon you all."
Gordayna convulsed, blood running in streams from her lips--and spoke no more.
Slowly, Quotho raised his eyes to meet Jhago's shocked gaze.
Quotho opened his eyes, mooring himself to the present.
Against all odds, he'd managed to find the girl.
And he would do anything--whatever it took--to make sure the prophecy never came true.

Chapter Text

A Safe Place To Land

"So will you be joining us in the lab today as well, Rogers?" Tony asked mockingly as the two of them stepped into the blessed coolness of the Avengers Tower.
"Maybe," Steve hedged, though he knew perfectly well he would be there.
Tony rolled his eyes--but Steve was much too preoccupied with other thoughts to notice.
They'd both been called to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters--
Upon arriving, Steve had expected them to be given news of potential missions--but it had only been paperwork.
Something didn't sit right with him about the entire affair--the paperwork seemed too trivial a reason for S.H.I.E.L.D. to summon them. It was almost as if--
As if it were an attempt to divert their attention from something else--or someone else.
He opened his mouth to mention it to Tony--and froze in shock as a piercing scream rent the air.
In all the four months he'd known her, Steve had never once heard Cerise sound so utterly terrified.
It filled him with an abject sense of dread.
"What the fu--"
But Steve was already running before Tony could so much as finish his sentence, racing up the stairs four at a time in his desperate bid to get to Cerise.
He was half-aware of Tony chasing at his heels and cursing violently as Cerise's voice carried down towards them--shrill and frantic with panic:
"STOP IT! STOP IT PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU!"
Steve crashed through the doors to the rooftop, Tony nearly colliding into him as he came to a stunned standstill.
The tableau before them was as absurd as it was horrifying.
Cerise was struggling vainly against the iron grip of a vaguely familiar S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, eyes wide and tortured--
While Fury stood at the edge of the rooftop, dangling a hissing, spitting Luffy over the flimsy scaffolding of the railing.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE PLAYING AT, FURY?" Tony bellowed, a vein throbbing at his temple.
Steve was beyond words, already running full tilt toward the agent--he would throw the man across the rooftop if it meant keeping Cerise safe.
"Either of you takes one more step and I throw this animal off the roof," Fury said calmly, nearly crushing Luffy in his large, rough-hewn hands as he held her off the side of the railing.
The cat yowled, claws extended--
But it could barely breathe in Fury's grip.
A half-choked sob forced its way out of Cerise's throat--it wrenched at Steve just as much as the mute plea in her eyes did.
Every cell in Steve's body was screaming at him to pull Cerise away from the agent--to break each bone in Fury's body for whatever twisted plan he was executing at that very moment--
But Luffy mattered as much to Cerise as her own life did.
It would destroy Cerise if anything happened to the cat.
It killed him to do it, but Steve stopped in his tracks.
"Stark, don't move," Steve said firmly--he knew Tony wouldn't be able to see past his distaste for the animal--his priority would be to get Cerise away from the operative, no matter the consequences.
But to his surprise, Tony seemed to have no intention of moving.
"Wasn't planning to, Cap," he confirmed, not taking his eyes off of Fury. "What the fuck are you doing, Fury? Who gave you the right to come in here and use force on the kid?"
"It's simple, Stark," Nick's swarthy face was inscrutable. "I want results. All Miss Solange has to do is use her powers to take her little friend from me--and we can put this incident behind us."
"We are never putting this incident behind us," Steve snarled, every word seethed in white-hot rage. "You've gone too far, Nick. Put the cat down and get out of here while you still have a chance."
Nick smirked.
"No, I don't think so. I gave you three months with her, Rogers--and you've nothing to show for it. She's never going to learn like this--she needs a push, and if you won't give it to her, I will. This is out of your hands now, Captain."
"The hell it is," Steve spat, eyes boring into Fury's like the point of a sword. "Last chance, Nick. Stop this."
"No," Fury said quietly. "It's her last chance. This is my final warning to you, Miss Solange--use your powers. Or your feline friend is going to have a very long way to fall."
The naked fear collecting like moisture in Cerise's eyes cut Steve to the quick--he had never felt more helpless than he did at that moment, standing idly by, bound by his very concern for her.
"Please don't do this," Cerise pleaded, voice cracked and trembling. "I'm begging you. I've told you a thousand times that I can't just summon up my power at will--I'm nowhere near there. Please let Luffy go. Please."
"For God's sake Fury, come to your senses!" Tony yelled, eyes burning russet fire. "She's just a child--are you insane?! LET. THE. FUCKING. CAT. GO."
Nick smiled at him pleasantly.
"Let go of the cat? Why, of course."
And he flung Luffy off the side of the railing.
What followed after would be seared into Steve's brain for the rest of his life.
Cerise screamed, the sound so rife with desolation that Steve was sure it would ring in his ears for months to come.
For once in perfect sync, Tony and Steve sprinted towards the end of the rooftop--for that one brief moment, they were united.
They would have willingly gone over the railing to their deaths to save Luffy for Cerise--
Had the ground not begun to shake underneath their feet, deep cracks beginning to splinter through the concrete.
They hit the ground hard, but it was nothing compared to what had befallen the other two--
The agent restraining Cerise was blasted into the air--he slammed against the wall with a sickening snap--and curled motionlessly onto the floor.
Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Luffy hover back up within his reach--he grabbed her in his arms in a trice.
He could feel the animal's tiny body quivering against his, and a fresh wave of anger overtook him--until he heard Fury's agonized yelling.
The man was pinned against the opposite wall--his entire arm and torso engulfed in billowing flames.
Steve's nose stung with the strong scent of ozone--he could feel rather than hear the distant boom of thunder.
And Cerise stood absolutely still with a single arm outstretched, controlling it all--her eyes as incandescently white as the forks of lightning streaking across the suddenly overcast sky.
"Oh fucking hell," Tony swore, getting to his feet painfully, visibly panicked. "Fuck. This just got a whole lot worse."
But Steve was already walking forward as fast as he was able.
"Steve, stay back--" Tony shouted urgently--
But he wasn't afraid.
He should have been, he knew that--should have, seeing the extent of her powers, at what she had just done--
But he wasn't.
When Steve looked at her all he could see was the girl she'd always been to him--the girl as gentle as an early spring morning--the girl who was always hurting--
The girl whose pain he wanted to wipe away with a single touch of his hand.
"Cerise," he said softly, approaching her slowly--very, very slowly. "Let Nick go, Cerise. He isn't worth it."
"Stay away," Cerise's voice was strangely metallic--deep and unfamiliar. "Stay away--I don't want to hurt you--I don't--"
Steve inched closer to her, ignoring Tony's frantic attempts to call him back.
"You would never hurt me," Steve said gently, eyes intent on hers. "I believe in that completely--I believe in you completely. I'm not scared of you Cerise--I'm not."
Cerise's lower lip trembled.
"He hurt Luffy," she said, voice as plaintive as a child's. "He hurt her."
Steve held Luffy out to Cerise in his arms.
"She's safe, Cerise--she's absolutely safe. Look--you saved her. You did that. It's over--you can let it go. Let Nick go--please."
He was a mere step away from her now--close enough to feel the heat of the steam rising in clouds around her.
Steve stretched his free hand out gradually--and encircled Cerise's narrow wrist, squeezing lightly.
Green bled back into Cerise's irises--
And Fury dropped to the floor with a dull thud, the flames finally flickering out.
The ground steadied under Steve's feet--but before he could catch her, Cerise had already crumpled to the floor.
Steve crouched down next to her in an instant, passing Luffy into her keeping.
She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were all that stood between her and the rest of the world.
"I'm s-sorry," Steve could feel her body shuddering against his with heavy, wracking sobs. "I'm so s-sorry I--"
"Shhh," Steve stroked her hair tenderly, chest aching with every broken sob she let out. "You're safe now--you're safe. It's okay."
"You're okay, sweetheart," Steve whispered, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. "You're okay. I've got you."
"I--I can't get up," Cerise said numbly, the bewildered hurt and confusion in her eyes causing Steve to feel like his heart had been sliced in two. "I-- I can't move."
"She's in shock," Tony pronounced grimly, face tight with tension as he came up behind Steve. "Get her out of here, Cap."
Steve cradled her carefully in his arms, trying not to jostle her in the slightest.
Cerise curled into his hold completely, Luffy nestled securely in the crook of her elbow.
Steve followed Tony's gaze onto the half-slumped form of Nick Fury--and the wrath burned like wildfire in his veins, consuming all else in its path.
Only the warm, solid weight of Cerise in his arms kept him moored to sanity.
"You listen to me like your life depends on it, Nick Fury," Steve's voice was ice-coated steel. "Because it does."
"If you ever so much as look in Cerise's direction ever again, I will rip you limb from limb--I will make you watch as I lay out your body parts in front of you, one by one. You will never enter this place again--you will never talk to her again, or I will tear you apart with my bare hands. And I will enjoy it."
Nick's face paled as he met Steve's blazing eyes.
Steve was aware of Tony gaping at him, but he only had eyes for Cerise.
"You'll take care of this?" Steve looked over his shoulder at Tony.
"Yeah I-"
But Steve had already left without waiting to hear the end of Tony's assent.
Tony watched him descend the stairs with grave eyes before he turned back to Fury, who was unsuccessfully trying to get to his feet.
"Steve isn't a violent man," Tony said quietly. "Far from it. So the fact that he just said what he did to you--that should tell you just how appalling you were today. You tortured an innocent girl half your age over something she couldn't control--for your own selfish gain. I'm not a bit sorry for you--you deserve to have every inch of your skin burned off your body. You've made mortal enemies today, Fury."
Nick spat out a gout of blood.
"I can handle Cerise Solange."
"Maybe so," Tony replied, unfazed. "But you've never had Steve Rogers for an enemy--and you've never had me as one either. If you don't stay away from us--I'm going to cut all my funding from S.H.I.E.L.D. You'll be bankrupt within a week."
Tony's lips curled back into a grimace as he locked eyes with Fury.
"Get out of here, Nick. And don't you fucking dare come near my kid ever again."

~~~
Steve carefully set Cerise down on her bed--hating the way she instantly hunched in on herself, so tightly coiled Steve wondered how she was even able to breathe freely.
He drew back--and Cerise's hand shot out to wrap around his arm.
"P-please don't leave," she stuttered, voice rubbed raw by weeping. "I don't--don't--"
"I wasn't going to," Steve reassured her hurriedly, worried by the chalky-white pallor that had fallen over her features. "I'm here. I'm staying."
He pulled up a chair next to her bed.
Steve wanted to touch her--smooth away the pain that was so acutely palpable on her face, Steve could almost feel it cutting against his own skin.
But Cerise seemed so fragile, he was afraid she might break apart if he laid so much as a finger on her.
"If I'd just been able to learn how to use my powers, none of this would have happened," Cerise said dully, words coming out muffled as her head was buried in Luffy's soft fur, an arm wound protectively around the feline's diminutive frame.
"Luffy wouldn't have been hurt if I'd just known how to use them," she continued, eyes completely devoid of their usual lustre.
"No," Steve said fiercely. "No, don't you dare do this to yourself. I'm not going to sit here and let you think this is your fault---because it isn't. It isn't at all---Nick Fury is a horrible human being who is so used to manipulating people to get what he wants that he's forgotten whether or not it's even right. He doesn't care who he hurts as long as his goddamned results are--"
Steve broke off in alarm as Cerise screwed her eyes shut, wincing in pain.
"What's wrong?" Steve demanded, vaulting off his chair. "Are you hurt?"
"I--I don't know," Cerise breathed heavily. "I feel so strange. It's my back--it's like it's burning."
Steve slid his hand between Cerise's shoulder blades--and bit back a curse at the heat he found radiating against his palm.
"It's definitely hot to the touch," Steve furrowed his brow. "But there's no injury that I can see. I'll get a doctor for you--maybe they'll be able to figure out what's wrong."
As he stood up, Steve forgot to keep his other arm hidden from view.
Cerise cried out in alarm, instantly reaching for him.
"Mr. Rogers, your hand!"
She twined her slender fingers just under the curve of his hand, staring in disbelief at the ugly red burn splitting the skin.
"I did this," she realized, horrified. "I did hurt you--I did, I--"
"No, no Cerise, you didn't," Steve shushed her gently. "I could see the steam coming off of you. I touched you anyway--I knew what I was doing. And I would do it again in a heartbeat--because you are worth the pain. You are--each and every minute of it."
Silver lined Cerise's eyes as she raised her head to look at him--the sheer affection shining on her face robbing Steve of breath.
Slowly, as if time were suspended in honey between them, Cerise pulled Steve's hand towards her--
And softly pressed her lips to the skin of his palm.
Later on, when Cerise would look back on these years--she would remember this moment as the time she had her first inkling--
For one fleeting minute, the shooting pain in Steve's hand subsided.
Color rose high in Steve's cheeks as Cerise let his arm drop.
"Thank you," she said fervently, throat convulsing with the effort of choking out every word. "You have no idea how much I--I--"
"Just thank you. I must have managed to do something good in this life, if I get to have you in it. And I'm so sorry for the trouble I put you and Mr. Stark through--"
"I should be apologizing," Steve rebutted quietly. "You belong here, Cerise--this is your home, and no one should ever make you feel unsafe in it--but Fury did, today. And I wasn't here. I should have been there for you--and I wasn't. And that's on me."
"That's on us," Tony corrected from where he waited by the door, making Cerise jump in surprise. "We should have known better than to think S.H.I.E.L.D. would call us just for paperwork. It was a stupid trap and we fell for it--and you shouldn't have had to pay the price."
He settled on the other side of Cerise's bed, and looked her straight in the eye.
"Bambi, I swear to you, I will make Fury pay for what he's done--he won't get away with this."
"You don't need to do that for me," Cerise shook her head sadly. "It's not worth it."
"Yes, I do," Tony insisted firmly. "You're one of us now, kid--you're not alone anymore. And we take care of our own."
A ghost of a smile passed over Cerise's wan face.
Tony silently offered her his hand--
Cerise took it gratefully, wrapping her other one around Steve's uninjured fingers.
Some of the light returned to her green-glass eyes as they sat in silence--a living link of hope against the dark events of the day.

~~~
Steve nodded at Tony as he left the room, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of them.
Steve turned to look at Cerise--her eyes were closed, but there was nothing peaceful about her still-ashen face.
He got off the chair as quietly as possible.
"Are you leaving?" Cerise's tired eyes slid open.
Steve was startled.
"I thought you were sleeping," he admitted.
"No," Cerise's lips pulled downward. "It's still--I'm still--"
"I know," Steve answered--he didn't need her to finish her sentence to understand.
Cerise bit her lip.
"Will you--will you stay with me till I fall asleep?" She asked nervously, already bracing for a refusal.
Steve was already back in his seat before all the words had left her lips.
"Sure, sweetheart," he said, the endearment coming to him as naturally as breathing. "I'm here. I'll stay as long as you want me to."
"I always want you to," Cerise murmured, completely unconscious of her speech--
And then flushed virulent scarlet as she realized what she had said.
Steve felt his heart constrict in his chest--he rapidly averted his gaze from Cerise's, choosing instead to check on his burned hand.
He'd been so caught up in his worry for Cerise that he'd forgotten all about his wound--hadn't even noticed the pain--
Steve's mouth fell open as he raised his hand in front of his face--
It was smooth, unlined--and completely unmarked.

Chapter Text

Argentum & Aurum

"Are you sure you're up for this, Cerise?" Steve eyed her worriedly.
Though it had been a week since the incident, there was still a raw sense of fragility underlying Cerise's movements--she seemed more withdrawn than ever, on the verge of sinking back into the shadows--but Steve wasn't going to let her.
Not after the effort it had taken to bring her out of it.
"I'm okay, Mr. Rogers," she smiled faintly. "Seven days is enough of a break. I should start training again."
He looked at her doubtfully, but dropped the matter--choosing to hook the punching bag onto the ceiling instead.
"So, we'll just rehash the basics," Steve began--
And found himself interrupted by a wary Natasha.
"Think that's my job," she said, cautiously entering the training room.
There was a tense moment of silence--
And then Cerise shrieked in alarm as Steve shoved the spy against the wood-paneled wall, hand nearly pressing into her throat.
"Did you know?" Steve spat, eyes steeped in indigo fire.
Cerise pulled at his arm frantically.
"Mr. Rogers, let her go please!"
Steve didn't even shift in place.
"Did you know?" He demanded, eyes boring into hers. "Did you know what that bastard was planning? Because I swear to God if you did, Romanov, I'll--"
Despite his hand almost flat against her throat, Natasha's gaze was evenly composed as she stared back at Steve.
"I didn't, Rogers," she replied calmly. "I had no idea. Fury doesn't tell me everything--you know that."
Cerise finally succeeded in dragging Steve away from the spy, though Natasha had the sense he only allowed himself to be moved so as not to hurt her.
"Then where have you been all week?" Steve glared at her, unconvinced.
"Dealing with the aftermath," Natasha shot back. "Tony didn't pull his punches, Rogers. He was serious about cutting all funding--he said as much. The higher-ups were so terrified of losing all that money, they collectively voted Fury out of his post. He's no longer director of S.H.I.E.L.D."
Steve and Cerise reeled back in shock.
"Then who is?" Steve asked in disbelief.
"No one right now," Natasha sighed. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is in shambles, Steve. The council is in interim control for the time being--but it can't last forever. Something needs to be done, and soon."
Natasha's eyes shifted to Cerise.
"But that's not important right now," she said, addressing Cerise. "I came here to talk to you."
Cerise blinked.
"I'm sorry, Solange," the spy offered unexpectedly, causing Cerise to stare at her in confusion. "My personal opinion on Fury aside, he shouldn't have done that to you. It was cruel and undeserved--and I'm sorry you had to go through it."
Cerise's throat bobbed as she met Natasha's eyes--but there was a subtle dignity to her gaze in spite of it all.
"Thank you," Cerise said quietly. "I'm glad that you--weren't involved. And if you see Nick Fury again, tell him--"
Natasha narrowed her eyes.
"Yes?"
Cerise tightened her hands into fists.
"Tell him that S.H.I.E.L.D is supposed to be about saving people--about restoring their capacity to control their own lives. It isn't about snatching that control away for your own gain."
Cerise was conscious of Steve watching her intently.
She turned to face Natasha again.
"Tell him his position was lost to him the minute he forgot that."
Cerise felt the color rise to her cheeks under the warm light of Steve's approving gaze.

~~~

Cerise fidgeted nervously near the main door--she knew Steve was about to leave, and she had to give it to him before he went.
She'd been delaying it for weeks.
"Cerise?" Steve shot her a puzzled look as he descended the staircase. "Were you waiting for me?"
She chewed her lip, unsure.
"Um," she began hesitantly. "Yeah. You're going to see Ms. Carter today, aren't you, Mr. Rogers?"
Steve blinked at her.
"Yes," he admitted warily. "I am."
Cerise understood his reticence completely--
Peggy was the only thread that remained--that connected Steve, to his old life.
She was the last living link that existed in and out of Steve's memory--and as such he guarded her fiercely.
"It's just--" the words spilled out of Cerise's mouth so fast he could barely catch them. "You mentioned a while ago that she gets cold very easily and I thought--well--I just thought I should knit these and I--"
She cut herself off abruptly, holding out the soft red material nestled in her hands for Steve to see instead.
"They're hand-warmers," she explained hurriedly at Steve's look of incomprehension. "I don't know if they'll help much but--"
She faltered as Steve stared at her.
"Did you--" Steve cleared past the knot in his throat. "Did you really make this for her?"
Cerise nodded cautiously.
Steve could feel his chest tighten--he hadn't expected this--not at all.
That she had remembered him talking of Peggy--hadn't dismissed it as just another offhand remark--
That she had remembered, and actually listened --
That she had found time to try and ease Peggy's difficulty--someone she barely knew--
It spoke of a delicate shade of kindness Steve had thought long-faded from the murky, ever-changing patina of the current world.
He looked at the careful stitching painstakingly woven into the red fabric--and felt something lodge itself in his throat.
"Thank you," he said fervently, voice dangerously close to breaking. "Thank you, I-- I keep telling them over there that the air conditioning bothers her and she's always cold, and she isn't happy but they never listen, I try and I try but they just don't listen and it kills me every time I have to leave her there but I can't--I can't--"
Steve choked to a stop, the touch of Cerise's hand against his suddenly all he could feel.
Her green eyes were filled with concern as she looked at him.
"It's okay, Mr. Rogers," she reassured him softly. "I understand. Why don't you take the warmers for now, and when you come back we can maybe discuss what can be done for Ms. Carter?"
Cerise turned to leave--
And Steve made a split-second decision.
"Come with me?" He asked, the question escaping almost involuntarily from his lips. "To see Peggy, I mean."
Cerise whirled around in shock--but her eyes were bright as she met Steve's gaze.
"You mean that?" She looked at him in pleased disbelief. "You really want me there?"
Steve smiled at her gently.
"Yes, sweetheart. I want you there."

~~~

"Today is one of her good days," the attendant informed Steve as they walked down the hallway. "She was asking about you today Mr. Rogers--she remembers you."
Cerise's eyes widened as she understood the underlying meaning of what had just been said--but she kept her face even for Steve's sake.
Steve nodded in thanks before opening the yellow-painted door.
"Hey Peggy," he greeted her quietly, a contented smile on his face. "Bet you're tired of seeing my face so many times in a row huh, huh? So I decided to bring a friend with me today."
Cerise peered shyly around Steve's shoulder at the slight frame of the woman on the bed.
Though her body had been ravaged by the passage of time--there was a certain toughness that stubbornly lingered in the withered planes of her face--a weathered sort of dignity--
Wrinkles that spoke of a life well-lived--in service and in strength.
"Hello, Ms. Carter," Cerise said slowly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Just Peggy, child," she smiled at Cerise, iron-gray hair tumbling in curls around her shoulders. "You must be Cerise--it's lovely to finally see you in person. Steve's talked so much about you."
Cerise blinked rapidly, eyes flitting to Steve with surprise.
"He has?"
Steve averted his gaze--suddenly fascinated by the view outside the window.
Peggy's lips twitched in amusement.
"Oh yes, he has," she confirmed, beckoning Cerise forward. "But never mind Steve. Tell me more about yourself, child."
Steve let the quiet hum of their conversation wash over him as he lost himself in the labyrinthine tunnels of his own thoughts--they had become increasingly convoluted of late when it came to the two women in his life--
He had to be honest.
They were the only two that mattered.
When Steve looked at Peggy, he didn't see the aged face or the weariness in her limbs--he remembered and thought of her as how she had been before he went under the ice--the blinding beauty and charm of her full, crimson-coated lips and dancing eyes--the bright, glittering gold of the thousands of suns that made up her personality--warm and glowing and deceptively simple.
When he looked at Cerise, he was struck by the sensitive prettiness of her delicate mouth, and dreaming, distant gaze--she had the same luminescence of shimmering silver on a crescent night--just as subtle and soft and complexly shifting.
Peggy had been brash and brave and beloved by all--the bold, beautiful plumage of a peacock's tail, if a human could ever be such.
Cerise had the elusive allure of a dew-dripped canvas of midnight grass--the lingering notes of a nightingale's song on a starry night, if ever such a thing could be made flesh and blood.
Peggy had moved through her life with the force of a howling winter wind--strident and straining--while Cerise's tread had been as light as ether, akin to that of a sighing summer breeze--wistful and waning.
If Peggy had walked with the confidence of a woman who thought she owned the world--Cerise stepped with the curiosity of a woman who wanted to understand it.
But for all that shared yet dissimilar loveliness---for all that it was Peggy he had come to see--
Steve's eyes were constantly drawn back to Cerise--to the perfect Cupid's bow of her lips, the slim column of her throat--the wave of her hands like the flight of white-winged butterflies.
It raised to life a burgeoning sense of turmoil within Steve as he looked at Peggy--a half-shamed, guilty sense of longing when his eyes invariably turned back to Cerise.
There was discord growing within Steve--a smothered sense of disquiet which he was only to happy to dispel from the forefront of his thoughts when Peggy asked him to bring her a glass of water.
Peggy turned her face towards Cerise.
"Now that he's gone," she said, eyes solemn upon the younger's face. "I have something I need to ask of you--and it cannot wait. I seem to live in a haze these days--some half-kept sort of slumber in which reality seems a dream and dreams themselves feel real. This is one moment of clarity in a dozen of dazed ones--so I must ask."
"Steve is strong," Peggy said quietly. "But his heart is as easily bruised as his beliefs--he has so much faith in people's inherent goodness--and it is being chipped away piece by piece by the world he's found himself in. Someone needs to uphold that conviction in him--he needs it to survive. And my role in that is over--my life is coming to an end, whether Steve acknowledges it or not."
Peggy offered her wizened hand to an utterly stunned Cerise.
"It's yours now," she told Cerise. "I used to worry about him being alone--but I can see now that he isn't. Promise me you'll take care of him, child."
Cerise's mouth popped open.
"You don't even know me," she whispered. "How can you trust me with something like this?"
Peggy's lips flicked upward.
"I know the way you look at Steve--it's the same way I used to look."
She lifted her head to meet Cerise's eyes.
"So will you grant me my wish?"
Cerise swallowed--but if she were to be honest with herself, she'd known her answer anyway.
"I promise," she murmured. "I'll do everything I can."

Chapter Text

The Dearly Departed

"Mr. Rogers, where are we going ?" Cerise huffed out, struggling to match his long strides.
"The point isn't to go anywhere specific," Steve corrected her. "The point is that you need to get out of the compound--look at yourself. You're wasting away."
He meant it.
In the weeks following the incident with Fury, the color had seemed to drain away from Cerise's features--a chalky white undercast to the normally warm honey tone of her skin. Deep hollows ringed her eyes--and she was rarely out of Tony's lab, burying herself with feverish intensity into the work.
She kept Luffy with her at all times--as if Cerise were afraid the cat would be snatched away from her the minute she let the animal out of her sight.
It pained Steve to see the latent fear lingering in the back of her green-glossed eyes--it worried him.
More than he'd like to admit.
He genuinely wanted to talk to her--to push her to admit she was hurting, so he could help in some tangible, palpable way--
But there was a strange sense of discord within him that held him back--it was as if Steve felt if he asked her, he would be forced to acknowledge how much her evident unhappiness perturbed him--
And it perturbed him greatly.
Steve had no choice but to tackle it in a roundabout manner--it was all he could stand to do without facing the emotions that had begun seeping into his system since the day he'd brought Cerise to see Peggy.
So when Cerise had reluctantly agreed to his suggestion (though it was more of a demand on his part, really) of spending the day outside, with the sole proviso that she could bring Luffy along--Steve had brooked no argument, simply tucking Luffy under his arm and proceeding on his way.
The cat didn't seem to mind at all--instead choosing to curl her tail around Steve's arm with perfect equanimity.
They found themselves traversing a cobble-stoned back alley--Steve was too preoccupied to properly notice his surroundings--until Cerise caught at his arm excitedly.
"Mr. Rogers look, that's your photo over there in the window!"
Steve glanced upwards--and found his own face staring back at him from the lace-curtained French window of the shop they'd found themselves facing.
"Oh." He blinked, nonplussed.
"We have to go in!" Cerise insisted animatedly, leading Steve by the hand into the ramshackle little shop.
There was no owner in sight--Steve barely managed to navigate his way through the cluttered expanse of the store.
It was as if he'd entered into a riotous explosion of color--a crazy quilt of many-hued objects strewn in no particular order across the area.
Cerise was peering at a battered brown photo album--
Steve started as she let out a surprised sounding exclamation.
"Mr. Rogers, there are pictures of you in here as well!"
Steve leaned over her shoulder, absentmindedly breathing in the water-lily scent of her hair as he did so.
The album was an amalgamation of his brief years spent in the war effort--shots of him and Peggy in their uniformed regalia--a discolored vignette of him before the effects of the super serum--
And him.
The half-healed scabs of Steve's wounded heart ripped themselves open all over again as he looked at the roguishly curled hair--at the impish twinkle in his brown eyes.
"Who's this, Mr. Rogers?" Cerise asked softly.
Steve closed his eyes--unable to see the slash of his friend's grin--the sight of it cutting across him like a knife.
"Bucky," Steve sighed. "That's Bucky--my best friend."
" Was my best friend," he corrected himself bitterly.
Cerise waited wordlessly--she knew Steve would talk if he felt like it.
"He died while we were on a mission," Steve admitted slowly. "He died--to save me. And I--"
"It's like--it's like living with half my limbs cut off--"
"The world seems to have lost its balance without him in it-- I just--"
"I just miss him," Steve finished simply. "It never stops."
His fingers twitched with the need to grip hers as Cerise slipped her hand around his.
"He's still with you," Cerise said quietly, squeezing Steve's hand gently. "The people that we lose, they have a way of living on in spite of it all. He's in you, Mr. Rogers--in all the kindness that you show people--in the good that you do without asking a thing in return. You reaffirm his memory by your actions every day, Mr. Rogers--you'll keep him alive forever where it matters most--"
Cerise smile was as sweet and pure as childhood--the stark loveliness of it snatching Steve's breath away from him.
"In your heart."

~~~

"Is it done, then?" Jhago asked.
"It is done," Quotho pronounced with finality. "We need no longer wait."
"How do we proceed, my liege?" Jhago placed the weight of his searching gaze on Quotho's own. "We cannot storm their living quarters."
"We won't have to," Quotho responded calmly. "We will use the Asgardian. His search for his brother will bring him to earth very soon--and he will seek the Avengers' help--I am sure of it." "We can use that to our advantage--you know exactly how."
"We will bring them to us," Quotho's eyes were as hard as flint as he examined the contents of the cauldron. "The girl and the soldier--they will need to be taken separately. Our thralls will handle the rest of them."
Jhago placed a hand on Quotho's shoulder.
"So it has begun?"
Quotho turned his eyes to the sprawling city laid out before them--like the rippling musculature of a monster emerging from a long-kept slumber.
"Yes, brother. It has begun."

~~~

Steve glared at the chinks of light peeking through the half-shut door of Tony's lab.
The wraiths of his past had drifted aimlessly through his dreams that night--rousing Steve from a fitful sleep in the wee hours of the morning.
He'd had a sneaking suspicion that had led him down to the basement--and it had just been confirmed.
Cerise jumped in fright as Steve flung the door open.
"Mr. Rog--?"
"It's three in the morning," Steve glowered at them both. "You should be sleeping, Cerise. This isn't healthy."
"What's the matter, old man?" Tony lowered his visor, eyeing Steve snidely. "Pissed that other people can stay up past your bedtime?"
Steve couldn't hold it in any longer.
"For once in your life, be serious, Tony!" He yelled.
" Look at her--"
"She's dead on her feet--she's exhausted and clearly hurting--and just because you're used to burying your demons under your work, it doesn't make it okay for her to do the same!"
Tony gaped at Steve, speechless for once.
"I'm fine," Cerise said into the tense silence, though the indignity of her tone was rather marred by the half-closed slits of her eyes--bleary and unfocused as they were.
"Mr. Rogers there's nothing wro-" she cut off with a pained groan as she tripped up against a table, swaying and unsteady on her feet.
There was a half-sharp, half-guilty cast to Tony's eyes as he looked at Cerise.
Steve breathed heavily through his nose.
"Cerise. Go. To. Bed."
"No," Cerise refused mulishly. "I said I'm fine, Mr. Rogers!"
"You are not!" Steve shot back, narrowly resisting the urge to raise his voice. "You can barely even stand!"
"You'd have to carry me out of here before I leave this room, Mr. Rogers!" Cerise dug in her heels, uncharacteristically obstinate.
"Fine," Steve said shortly. "Have it your way--"
And unceremoniously lifted Cerise over his shoulder.
Tony slowly started to chuckle.
"Wrong move, kid."
She shrieked in alarm, drumming her hands against Steve's back in vain.
"Mr. Rogers what are you--put me down!"
"We're not done talking about this," Steve told Tony tersely, utterly ignoring Cerise's protests as he walked out of the lab.
"Sure, Cap," Tony hid his smile. "You enjoy your night--doing whatever it is that you're doing right now."
Steve growled incoherently, marching his way back to their apartment.
"Mr. Rogers, this is ridiculous," Cerise muttered sulkily, evidently resigned to her situation as they reached her door.
"So are you," Steve said irritably, still making sure to set Cerise down onto the floor of her room as carefully as possible. "Just go to sleep, will you? You'll have time enough to work with Tony tomorrow."
He turned to leave--but came to a stop when he felt Cerise's warm hand wrap around his.
"I didn't mean to worry you," she said in a small voice. "I'm sorry. It's just---when I don't have anything to do these days--I start to think about everything that's happened--I think things that I shouldn't--and I don't want to. I don't want to feel like this, Mr. Rogers."
"So talk to me," Steve pleaded, sitting down in front of her. "You aren't alone any more Cerise--so don't act like it."
"I really wasn't trying to make you worry," Cerise said ruefully. "I just--I just don't really know what to do right now."
"I know, sweetheart," Steve reached out to run his fingers through her hair--secretly pleased at the crimson flush that instantly stained her cheeks at the action. "It's okay. Just promise me you won't shut me out."
Cerise's eyes were large and vulnerable in the dim lamplight of the room as she met Steve's earnest gaze.
"I promise," she whispered.

Chapter Text

Lightning Before The Thunder

Cerise hummed to herself softly as she hung her clothes out to dry on the rooftop--it was the first time she'd entered the area since the incident.
It hadn't gotten any easier for her in the full sense of the word--except for the fact that she had Steve.
Somewhere in the half-hidden crevices of her mind, Cerise had always known that she could rely on the soothing balm of the soldier's presence--
But he'd made her promise not to close herself off from him--and it meant something to her.
Meant the world, in fact.
Retreating into the dark confines of her own mind, that was all Cerise'd ever known how to do, but Steve--
Steve made her want to drop her defenses--open herself up to the possibility that she truly wasn't alone anymore--that he would be there to set her back on her feet, no matter how many times she lost her balance.
The sensation was as strange as it was sacred to Cerise--it settled deep into the hollow spaces in her heart, filling them up with honey-tinged warmth instead.
Cerise fell to the floor in alarm as an iridescent pillar of light descended its way down to the rooftop, seemingly originating from the distant blue borders of the sky itself.
She shaded her eyes from the blinding luminosity of the pillar--faintly discerning the shadow of a man stepping out from its glare.
Cerise gaped in shock at the apparition that appeared before her--the ringed steel of the man's vest glittering in the sunlight, almost the same shade of yellow as his ropes of rough blond hair.
He pointed the front of his gunmetal gray hammer at her.
"Who are you?" The man demanded in a gravel-grazed voice, staring at her out of intensely electric blue eyes.
"I'm--I'm me," Cerise said dumbly, dazed by the spectacle of the man before her. "I mean I'm--"
"Greetings," the mail-clad man said gravely. "I am Thor of Asgard."
Cerise blinked, utterly flummoxed.
"Uh, hi," she replied, scrambling to replicate the solemnity of his tone. "I'm Cerise. Of New York."
Thor raised a dark eyebrow.
"Are you mocking me, good lady?"
Cerise's mouth popped open.
"What?! No! I was just--I mean I was trying to--"
Cerise's spluttering subsided when Tony raced out onto the roof.
"Thor?" Tony gazed at the Asgardian in disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

~~~

Steve glowered darkly at the two of them.
Cerise was practically buzzing with excitement, orbiting with great animation around Thor.
He couldn't quite put a finger on the reason--but it irked him to see Cerise direct her wide-eyed gaze onto the Asgardian, with an almost worshipful kind of fascination.
"I don't think I've ever seen you scowl like that before," Natasha walked up to him, wry amusement gleaming in her green eyes. "Jealous isn't a good look on you, Rogers."
Steve turned his glare onto Natasha.
"I'm not jealous," he said, affronted. "I simply don't see why she's so impressed with him."
Natasha rolled her eyes.
"Oh, come off it, Steve. He's practically a myth come to life--for all intents and purposes, he's a god. And you have to admit, Thor's pretty easy on the eyes."
Steve's scowl deepened as he watched Thor throw his head back in laughter at something Cerise had said---very clearly gratified by her attention.
"Can you really control thunder?" Cerise asked, her rosebud mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise at Thor's nod of affirmation.
"Stark tells me you have a little power in that regard as well," Thor remarked. "Would you do me the honor of a demonstration?"
"Oh," Cerise's cheeks pinked. "I suppose I could try, I--"
She crinkled her nose in concentration, which in any other circumstance Steve would have found utterly endearing--
Had the recipient of that expression been him, and not Thor.
To everyone's surprise, lightning flashed across the sky in great white stripes--the distant boom of thunder reverberating around the room.
Thor looked taken aback--as if he hadn't actually expected Cerise to be able to do it.
"A lady after my own heart," he recovered himself rapidly, however. "Most impressive."
Steve's eyebrow twitched in irritation as Cerise smiled up at Thor.
It was maddening watching her openly admire the Asgardian warrior--
He wanted to pull her away from Thor, catch her by the hand and--
"Will you stop it?" Natasha hissed, breaking off Steve's train of thought. "You'll burn a hole in Thor's back at this rate, the way you're glaring at him. Look, even Tony's noticed."
Steve turned his head, and sure enough--Tony was watching him with slyly knowing eyes.
"Tony always notices," he muttered resentfully.
"Yes, because you have the subtlety of an elephant, Steve," Natasha responded, evidently exasperated. "Just relax, will you grandpa? Let Cerise be--she's young and it's a perfectly natural reaction to have. It doesn't mean she's going to run away with him-- so chill out."
Steve frowned at the spy.
"I just think Thor should spend less time plying Cerise with compliments, and focus on finding the brother he let slip from his clutches again ," Steve said stiffly.
"It's what he came here to do isn't it-- didn't think that included bantering with girls half his age," Steve added waspishly, leaving the room in high dudgeon.
If it had been anyone else, one might have said he banged the door on his way out.
"When do you think he's going to realize?" Tony asked dryly, coming up behind Natasha.
"Not anytime soon," she rolled her eyes. "God, what a dumbass."

~~~

Steve's ears alerted him to the sound of the front door opening.
Cerise had volunteered to 'show Thor around New York', as he'd been too busy fending off the Chitauri the last time he'd visited to notice much.
Tony had elected to join them, irreverently winking at Steve before he went--as if he knew why Steve had chosen not to leave with them.
Steve's lips pulled downwards into a grimace--
He didn't think he could tolerate watching Cerise grow increasingly captivated with Thor.
So he'd chosen to stay home--but it hadn't helped improve his mood in the slightest.
"Mr. Rogers!" Came a singsong voice, wafting in from the living room of their shared apartment.
Steve turned around at the sound--
And stared in disbelief at the sight before him.
Cerise smiled up at him, an arm slung sloppily over Tony's shoulder--she seemed to be teetering in place, unable to support her own weight.
"Mr. Rogers, did you know that pigeons are really mean?" She asked in complete earnest--though Steve could scarcely understand her slurred words.
She peered up at him with unfocused eyes and flushed red cheeks.
"I tried to feed one and it flew away from me! It was a bad pigeon--we should outlaw them all!"
"Is she drunk?!" Steve demanded furiously of Tony, pointedly ignoring Thor's presence.
"No..." Tony hedged, and then cringed as Cerise tripped over her own feet.
"Well, yeah, " he admitted, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "Thor said he had Asgardian wine on him--and I wanted to try it--so did she. I didn't know she was gonna be such a lightweight though."
" You gave her Asgardian wine?! " Steve fumed, automatically catching Cerise as she nearly fell for the third time in the past few minutes. "Tony, it's the middle of the day!"
"It's happy hour somewhere, old man," Tony gave a non-committal shrug. "God, you're such a stick in the mud. Lighten up, will you? She'll sleep it off."
Steve snarled wordlessly, eyes so caustic it was a wonder Tony and Thor didn't instantly catch on fire.
"Are you mad?" Cerise wobbled her way to Steve. "You sound mad."
"Please don't be mad at me, Mr. Rogers," she pleaded, lower lip jutting out just a little--
And Steve kicked himself for how it instantly thawed out his anger.
"You're my favorite, Mr. Rogers," Cerise said woozily, almost unaware of what she was saying. "I like you best, you know? So don't be mad at me, please?"
She peeked up at him imploringly from under the silken fringes of her long lashes--
And stretched up on her toes, suddenly cupping his face between her small hands.
Steve froze, color flaming in his cheeks--
He was acutely aware of the sensation of her soft fingers on his skin--
Though he was spared from making a response as Cerise landed clumsily onto the couch, curling into an undignified heap.
"Well that's just blatant favoritism," Tony huffed from his place opposite Steve. "But are you happy now, you possessive prat?"
"I wasn't--I didn't--"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Tony cut off Steve's incoherent rambling. "We're leaving. Just get her to bed."
Steve barely noticed the two men leaving the room--arrested by the wild-rose hue stealing into Cerise's sleeping face.
He was forced to admit that her words had soothed the irritation that'd been pricking him all day.
Steve slowly smiled to himself--despite her disorientation, he knew Cerise had meant what she'd said.
When he would look back on that day in later years, Steve would wish he'd treasured that moment more--
It was the last happy one they would have, for a long, long, while.

~~~

Jhago seemed to melt into the murky darkness of the night--
Stealthily stalking forward until he reached the bulky silhouette of their vessel.
Quotho didn't bother with a greeting as Jhago walked in, merely asking:
"Are the thralls ready?"
"Yes," Jhago confirmed. "They are prepared to move at your command."
Restless waves of energy were rolling off of Jhago--Quotho could sense it.
"Whatever it is that you want to know, ask," he said calmly.
"Why are we separating the soldier from the rest?" Jhago instantly questioned. "Where is the need for that?"
"Because he cares most for the girl," Quotho replied. "That makes him dangerous--he will fight harder than any of them to protect her. If they are captured together, and we threaten the girl--he will not risk her getting hurt in any way. It is his handicap--and we will use it."
"We are operating on the belief that she will not use her powers," Jhago pointed out. "What if she does? This could very easily go awry, brother."
"She has no idea how to harness them," Quotho assured him. "The incident with the S.H.I.E.L.D director has terrified her--she is blocking her powers from developing."
Jhago nodded.
"So when do we begin?"
"At first light," Quotho turned to face the sweeping landscape before them. "We have waited long enough."
"It is time."

Chapter Text

Can't Do Without You

"So where do you think Loki is?" Tony asked Thor, who was eying his lab with an air of befuddled fascination.
"Somewhere on earth," Thor supplied cheerfully.
"Sure, great, that's very helpful," Tony grumbled in an acidic tone. "Really narrows down the parameters."
"Why do you think he's on earth anyway?" Natasha questioned, more patient than Tony. "He could be anywhere. You said there were many realms in space, right?"
"I did," Thor agreed. "But my brother has always been attracted to this land. The corruption--the avarice--the baseness of human emotion--it pulls at him. He will not be able to resist returning."
"Charming," Tony said scathingly. "Totally looking forward to meeting him again--hopefully without an alien army in tow, this time."
Steve offered no opinion of his own--he was too busy watching Cerise, slumped on the couch and subdued by a raging headache.
It was nothing less than she deserved after her rash choice to drink past her limit the previous day--but Steve was still concerned.
He spent half his time worrying about her these days, if he were to be really honest with himself.
"Let's tackle New York first," Steve spoke up at last, finally removing his gaze from Cerise. "Natasha and I will do a sweep of all the boroughs. Tony, maybe you could use your tech to check for any kind of suspicious activity here."
"Thor," Steve regarded him with thinly-veiled distaste. "I suppose you could check the city for alien activity. I assume you know the signs--since you have more experience with that than all of us."
"What about me?" Cerise gingerly raised her head, eyes squinting against the strong sunlight. "You haven't given me anything to do."
"You can do something when I see you're able to walk in a straight line again," Steve said shortly, though he couldn't resist reaching down to ruffle her hair, nullifying the bite of his words.
Cerise's mouth popped open in protest--
But Steve had already left.

~~~

Cerise peeked at Steve as he walked out of his room in full gear.
The stealth suit clung to him like a second skin--outlining every ridged muscle.
Though there wasn't even an inch of exposed skin, it still made Cerise blush.
She hurriedly flicked her eyes away from his body--
And noticed the straps of his chin guard hanging loose.
"Wait a second," Cerise lifted herself up on her toes, carefully tying the flaps around his sharp jaw. "There you go."
Her fingers lingered against his skin a second too long--
And Steve realized her face was an inch away from his, their bodies almost brushing up against each other.
He hastily stepped back, ignoring the flare of an unidentifiable emotion rising up within him at her touch.
"I'll see you," Steve said awkwardly, backing away.
"Wait!" Cerise caught at his hand. "Let me come with you. Please."
Steve opened his mouth, instantly ready to refuse--
But Cerise insistently squeezed his hand.
"Please, Mr. Rogers. Miss Romanov said she couldn't make it today because she had work with S.H.I.E.L.D--and it's just a recon mission. We're not in any danger--if there's even the slightest trouble, I'll go back to the Quinjet, I promise. Just--"
She broke off to stare at Steve with entreating eyes.
"I just don't want you to go alone," Cerise admitted quietly.
There was a painful pulse emanating from the center of Steve's chest as he heard Cerise's words--when was the last time someone had cared for him that much?
He couldn't refuse--coudn't deny the mute plea in her glittering green eyes.
"Okay," Steve sighed, hiding how much her little speech had affected him. "But you have to do exactly as I say."
"Yes, sure," Cerise nodded emphatically. "Whatever you want."
Steve turned away from her at the buzzing of his phone--it wasn't from a number he recognized.
He picked up the call warily.
"Hello?"
"Steve," Thor's voice came through strangely tinny, but it was unmistakably his. "I believe I've found valuable information on Loki. Meet me in Brooklyn."
"Fine," Steve agreed easily. "We'll be there."
He motioned to Cerise impatiently as he typed out a hasty message to Tony about his new plan.
"Suit up. We're leaving in five."

~~~

Steve looked around in confusion as he and Cerise dismounted from the Quinjet.
"Thor?" He called out, puzzled. "Where are you?"
Cerise glanced uneasily at her surroundings--there was a peculiar sense of foreboding curling into her veins.
Something seemed off.
And then Cerise froze.
It had been a blindingly sunlit day--but the sky had suddenly turned overcast--
And there were tendrils of thick, white mist roping around Cerise's ankles.
"Mr. Rogers!" She called out urgently. "Something's wrong, I--"
Steve whirled around, shield at the ready--
But it was too late.
A cloaked arm had seized Cerise, emerging out of the rapidly growing fog--
And pressed a dagger to her throat.
Steve's blood turned to ice at the sight of Cerise choking.
"Follow me, soldier," said the hooded figure, the gray of his cloak melding perfectly with the mist. "Do it, or the girl dies."

~~~

Tony clicked his tongue, busily sorting through the new shipment of robot parts that had just been delivered to him.
"What are you doing, Stark?" Thor ambled into the lab, looking at Tony enquiringly.
"Oh, just going through this new batch of equipment I--"
Tony cut off his absentminded response, turning startled eyes towards the Asgardian.
"Thor?" Tony furrowed his brow. "Aren't you supposed to be with Cap? He told me you called him--said you had a lead on Loki."
Thor turned absolutely still.
"I did no such thing," he said slowly. "I have no knowledge of my brother's whereabouts as of now."
Dread filled Tony's face.
"Fuck," he swore violently, already racing out of the room. "Fuck. This is bad."

~~~

Cerise's vision swam before her eyes.
She could scarcely make out anything beyond the roof of the high-rise building they were trapped in.
The thick charcoal smog obscured everything in her view--
Except for Steve.
They'd tied her hands and feet together so tightly Cerise could barely move.
Cerise knew if she so much as moved a muscle, she would topple over.
Steve had suffered the same fate.
There was a deep, personal cruelty to the manner in which he'd been placed in front of her, inches away from reach--
With no way for Cerise to touch him--
To hold on to the slightest comfort of his skin against hers.
They were the actions of someone who knew her--knew what Steve meant to her.
It chilled Cerise down to the bone.
Steve had tried--tried to break free and pull her away from their clutches on their way up to the roof--
But the phalanx of gray-cloaked figures had converged around Cerise--and dug their knife even deeper into the fragile skin of her throat.
Steve had watched the blood trickle down her neck--
And turned as still as stone.
"You will not walk out of this alive, soldier," one of the men--or women, Cerise had no way of knowing what lay beneath the fabric of their cloaks-- had rasped. "But you can save the girl-- if you do exactly as we say."
All through the agonizing trip to the top of the building, Cerise had pushed to let out her magic in some way--in any way--pushed until her head was screaming.
But not even a wisp of power rose to the surface.
The guilt burned Cerise just as much as her bound body did--
He was in those ropes for her.
Steve could have easily broken out of them--but he stayed within their confines.
Because of her.
Cerise turned anguished eyes on Steve.
"Mr. Rogers, I'm scared," she whispered, and she was--
But it was for him.
Not for herself.
"I know," Steve's stricken gaze still tried to reassure her, in spite of it all--it sliced Cerise's heart clean in half. "It's okay--we'll be okay. I'll think of something."
There was a looming sense of finality surging to the forefront of her veins--she had to get the words out.
Before it was too late.
"I don't think I ever told you, Mr. Rogers," Cerise managed a tremulous smile. "But I used to dress up as Captain America when I was young-- I’d hunt for these old rags—collect all the red and blue ones, and cobble together some sort of outfit to match yours. You were my hero, Mr. Rogers. There’s a saying that you should never touch your idols because the gilding will stick to your fingers —but you were exactly how I thought you would be—you were everything I imagined you to be."
The tenderness shining in Cerise's face turned her eyes as soft as heather--
It smote Steve somewhere far, far within the innermost recesses of his chest.
"You were the only one who never treated me like a child," she continued, voice reed-thin but determined. "You saw me as someone equal to you—you never once called me kid, did you know that? You were the only one who believed in me Mr. Rogers—in my ability to make a difference in the world—to have something to offer it. You made me feel like I finally belonged somewhere. You were kind, and brave, and you were never afraid of doing the right thing—so I want to thank you."
A terrible, nameless fear rose in Steve with every word that fell from Cerise's lips.
"This isn't goodbye," Steve said fiercely, panic cresting within him in rolling waves. "We're gonna get out of this, sweetheart, why are you--"
"It’s my time to do the right thing now," Cerise, for the first time, cut across him. "You’ve always done your best to protect me-- and I'll never not be grateful for it. But now it’s my turn to protect you--I refuse to let you die for me."
Steve was speechless, throat closed in the vice-like grip of horror.
"See, my being gone--it doesn't matter as much to me," Cerise shook her head, wistfulness curling the corners of her lips. "But the thought of a world without you in it--even if I'm not there to see you--it's unimaginable."
"I can't fight," she said solemnly. "You don't know how much I wish I could. But I can give you a fighting chance--and if I have to lose, I'm going to do it on my own terms."
The look Cerise gave him then--Steve would remember it all his life.
It was as if she were trying to burn the memory of his face into the backs of her eyelids--as if it were the very last chance she had to see it.
She desperately stretched forward, straining painfully against the rough binding of her ropes--
And traced her lips across the contours of Steve's cheek.
With the barest brush of her mouth against Steve's skin--Cerise knew.
She simply just knew.
By all logic, it should have made what she was about to do even harder--
But it only served to cement her resolve.
There was no other way.
"Steve," she said softly--and he froze, the sound of his name on her lips more sacred than any religion in the world.
"These past five months with you, they've been a gift--"
As she spoke, he could see the silver sheen in her irises--eyes glimmering like frost-coated grass with unshed tears.
The hooded figures; who had previously paid no attention to Cerise's words after placing her against the ledge of the railing, had no time to react.
"Make this count," Cerise told Steve, smiling gently--
And threw herself off the edge of the building.

Chapter Text

Be With You Never

"NO!" Steve yelled, tearing out of his ropes in a split second--but it was too late.
Cerise's falling body had already disappeared into the swirling fog.
There was a dull roaring in Steve's ears--in an instant he was transported to the snow-capped mountains in his days through the war--
Watching his best friend give his life for him.
Except now he was helplessly watching two bodies hurtle down the yawning chasm.
Everything that followed after was a haze to Steve--
He only remembered the whirling of his fists and legs, the fine red spray of blood misting against his face as he broke apart every bone in the bodies of those who had led Cerise to her--to her--
Even in the confines of his own mind, Steve couldn't shape his thoughts around the word 'death.'
It took him less than ten minutes to subdue the group.
Steve could no longer tell whether the blood coating his knuckles was his own or if it belonged to the unidentified cloaked figures now prostrate upon the ground.
But he kept punching, and punching--there was molten hatred in his veins for what they had done--for what they had forced Cerise to do--
He wanted to reduce them to a pulp of blood and beaten muscle.
He vaguely registered a voice calling to him--it echoed in his ears as if from a great distance.
"Steve! STEVE!"
Natasha ran across the rooftop, struggling to pull him away from the battered corpses.
"Rogers, they're dead," she dragged him away with effort. "They're dead, you can stop. Stop it."
Her face paled as she regarded the gray, cracked skin on their faces--the stark, slit-pupilled eyes.
"Jesus fuck, I don't think they're human."
Steve ignored her words--now that he had nothing left to fight, the enormity of the situation hit him like a bullet in the chest.
There was raw agony blistering through his body.
Cerise had--she had--
Natasha straightened up, glancing around as if noticing the girl's absence for the first time.
"Steve," there was real fear darkening the spy's eyes as she addressed him. "Steve, where's Cerise?"
He couldn't breathe--Steve's throat had closed in on itself.
"She--" he gasped for air, ice crystallizing in his veins. "She's--"
"She's right here," Tony flew up to the rooftop, Cerise held securely in his arms. "I found her floating six inches off the ground--she's just unconscious, as far as I can tell."
He carefully set Cerise down onto the concrete tiles of the rooftop.
The breath whooshed back into Steve's lungs--sheer relief causing his knees to buckle under him.
He sunk to the floor--and buried his head in the folds of Cerise's shirt, desperately needing to hear the resolute beat of her heart.
She was breathing.
She was alive.
Steve barely felt Tony placing a wary hand on his shuddering frame---eyes pricking with painful tears that refused to let themselves fall.
"We're lucky this smog hid everything," Tony slid the visor of his metal suit down. "Reporters would have had a field day seeing the kid levitate herself. How'd she fall, anyway?"
"She didn't," Steve replied grimly, fury now beginning to seep in with the still-lingering dread coursing through his bloodstream. "She jumped."
Steve didn't pause to hear Tony's startled curse, getting to his feet immediately once he saw Cerise's eyes flutter open.
"I--what," she blinked dazedly, instantly searching for Steve. "I don't understand--how am I--"
"Yes, you're alive," Steve responded tightly, averting his gaze from her. "No thanks to anything you did, by the way."
"Take her back to the compound, Tony," he said flatly. "She's never going on another mission again."
Cerise's mouth fell open in shock.
"No! Mr. Rogers, I--"
But Steve had already walked away from her.
"Come on, Bambi," Tony lifted her up in his arms, voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Don't push him for now--you've shaken him up pretty badly."
"Let's go home, kid."

~~~

Steve dug the heels of his palms into his eyes--the stinging of the trapped tears in his irises had yet to abate.
He'd delayed returning to the Avengers Tower as much as he possibly could--but Cerise had still been waiting for him the minute he'd entered their apartment, stretching out an entreating hand towards him.
It'd killed him to ignore the hurt confusion in her eyes--
But he'd strode past her anyway, locking himself inside the safety of his own room.
Watching Cerise throw herself off that building--it had been the worst moment of his life.
Worse than crashing the bomb-laden plane, and with it all his hopes of a life with Peggy--worse than seeing Bucky fall off the edge of the train for him--
The very worst.
Why had it taken Cerise jumping off that ledge for Steve to realize she was as much a part of him as the air in his lungs?
That there had never been a single person throughout the entirety of his exceedingly long life that he'd cared for more?
He didn't have a clue--
All he knew was that it had destroyed him to see her fall--
And she'd done it for him.
It was his fault.
It had been like his ribcage had shattered with the force of his feelings for her--
It had hit him like a blow to the face--he could no sooner live without Cerise than he could live without his heart.
They were one and the same to him now.
And it terrified Steve.
He felt naked and defenseless in the wake of his epiphany--
As if he were dangling off the edge of a precipice--and if he let himself leap the final distance--
He would be landing into uncharted waters--armed with nothing but his emotions and his fragile, aching heart.
Steve couldn't do it--couldn't face it.
He simply didn't have the strength.
The sound of his door swinging open snapped Steve out of his reverie.
Tony strode in, countenance dark and scowling.
"Have you spoken to Cerise?" He demanded without preamble.
"No," Steve said dully.
"Are you planning on talking to Cerise at all?" Tony crossed his arms and glared at him.
"No," Steve repeated tensely.
Tony gaped at him.
"This is unkind, Steve," he said firmly. "She doesn't understand why you aren't speaking to her--was crying her eyes out the last I saw. The least you could do is talk, she took that damned fall for you--"
"THAT'S THE FUCKING POINT, STARK!" Steve finally exploded, flinging a chair against the wall in a fit of helpless anger. "SHE NEARLY DIED FOR ME."
"For me," Steve continued bitterly. "As if I'm worth that sort of sacrifice. As if I deserve it."
"I can't let her get close to me, Tony," he fixed his tortured gaze on the other man. "She'll never make it out of that alive--and I'm sick of watching people pay for my mistakes. I should've known it was a trap--but I didn't. And she nearly paid the price."
"She's already close to you," Tony didn't turn a hair at his outburst. "You can't reverse it now, Cap--and you can't do this. You need Cerise--and more importantly, Cerise needs you. You don't get to walk into her life, and then walk out as you see fit."
"I'm not saying you should tell her you're in love with her or any of that shit," Tony added, attempting for a conciliatory tone. "But you have to stay in her life--for both your sakes."
"I'm not in love with her," Steve snapped instantly. "And I can't, Tony. I won't. I won't put her in danger."
"OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Tony yelled back at last. "Can you be honest with yourself, for once in your life, Steve--admit your own feelings?"
"What is this really about?" Tony glared at him. "Is it about the fact that you don't want to risk her life---or is it about the fact that you're terrified of how much Cerise means to you--and how much you mean to her? She matters more than anyone else to you, Steve--and you matter just as much to her. You can't hide from it--even if you spend the rest of your days lying to yourself like you are now-- no amount of distance you put between the two of you is ever going to change that."
"Please leave, Tony," Steve slumped onto his bed tiredly, refusing to let his words sink in. "I don't want to argue this with you."
"Fine," Tony snarled. "Come talk to me when you take your head out of your ass for five minutes and realize you're about to create a whole lot of suffering where there doesn't need to be any."
He strode out of the room, slamming the door shut on his way out--
Leaving Steve to grapple with the consequences of his decision.

~~~

Steve wearily opened the door to his room, late into the wee hours of the night.
There had been an incessant volley of knocks sometime earlier--but Steve had assumed it was Tony, back to fight again, and ignored it.
Steve stepped out--
And nearly tripped over the motionless form of Cerise, leaning fast asleep against the wall outside his room.
Steve froze.
Had she been here all this time--waiting for him?
His heart twinged at him in reproach--
But Steve couldn't listen to the persistent plead of its pounding.
Not anymore.
Steve bent to the floor and drew Cerise up into his arms gently--grazing the tips of his fingers against the fine-boned features of her face.
He wanted to commit the sensation of her skin against his hands to memory--it was the last chance he would have to experience it.
Cerise stirred awake in his careful hold--half-conscious eyes soused with sleep but sincere.
"Mr. Rogers," she instantly caught hold of his hand. "You have to tell me what's wrong. Talk to me, please--"
"There's nothing to talk about," Steve said quietly, exhausted by the onslaught of his emotion.
He abruptly set her down onto the floor.
It wrenched at him to release her from his hold--his arms felt coldly empty without the weight of her body in between them.
Cerise refused to let go of his hand.
"Whatever it is, I'm sorry," her lower lip began to tremble, the words wavering uncertainly from her mouth. "I just wanted to keep you safe--"
Steve's fingers throbbed with the need to wipe the tears burgeoning in the corners of her almond-shaped eyes--the ache of it drove him to distraction--
But Peggy's face rose up to the forefront of Steve's mind--the slash of her crimson-tipped smile like an accusation.
He stepped away from Cerise in a trice.
"Say something," she begged. "Anything. Please."
"There isn't anything left to say," Steve said dully--and there wasn't.
A numb sort of deadness was splintering from the center of his chest outwards to the rest of his body.
"Mr. Rogers--Steve," Cerise beseeched him, fervent eyes silver-green with liquid. "Steve, please. You made me promise not to shut you out--so don't do this to me. Don't."
"Whatever it is, just--just talk to me, please--Steve, I--"
"I'm sorry, Cerise--"
There was a corrosive burning branding its way up the column of Steve's throat--the words seared like acid on his tongue, but he forced them to fall from his lips anyway--hating himself with every syllable that escaped his mouth.
"I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you--I don't want to look at you."
"Just leave me alone," Steve said hollowly, ignoring the howling of his heart, trapped and screaming in the desolate cavern of his chest. "I don't want anything to do with you, Cerise."
Until that moment, Cerise had never thought the sound of her own name could ever be that harsh--each sentence of Steve's tearing against her skin like thorn-scratched gashes.
"But I--"
But I love you, she'd been about to say--
Except Steve wasn't there to hear her anymore.
He'd already left the room.
Cerise buried her head in her hands and sobbed--the fissures of her barely-healed heart cracking open all over again.
She'd come full circle--
Just as alone as she'd been at the very beginning.

Chapter Text

Nerves On Ice

The tension in the air between them was so sharp, it seemed to crackle with an almost electric charge.
"Who could have done this?" Tony demanded, the slope of his shoulders rigid and strained as he spoke. "What enemies could a twenty-one year old girl possibly have?"
"Maybe it was Loki," Steve replied, catching Thor's eye.
Thor met his gaze evenly.
"My brother is many things," he answered Steve calmly. "But he is not a murderer of children."
"Cerise is not a child," Steve curtly responded.
"Oh, really?" Tony snapped at him acridly. "Coulda fooled me, the way you've been treating her these days."
"I don't have the energy for this, Tony," Steve wearily pinched the bridge of his nose--and he meant it.
Keeping himself away from Cerise was sapping every bit of his strength.
"Oh, no, you're not getting out of it this easily," Tony spat. "We are having this conversation."
"We've had it already," Steve sighed.
"Then we're fucking having it again, Steve!" Tony yelled. "Quit acting like her jumping off that ledge was some sort of personal failing on your part--it was her decision, so give her the goddamned dignity of her choice!"
Steve paled--the ghost of his old loves rising up in front of him, the memory of them echoing in Tony's words.
He choked on his words.
"Peggy--"
"So this is about her now, too?" Tony snarled. "Are you going to deny your feelings, all for a woman who lived a long and fruitful life without you--and even got married, if I have my facts right. She moved on Steve--it's about time you did too."
He averted his eyes from Tony's--what could he say to defend himself anyway?
Nothing Tony had said had been wrong.
Thor's eyes flitted between the two of them in perplexed apprehension.
"I cannot hope to comprehend the nature of the relationship between the two of you," Thor addressed Steve slowly. "But if I were you, my friend, I would think twice before so grievously wounding the heart of a lady--especially not one of such noble disposition as Cerise."
"Yeah," Tony rolled his eyes. "That. Whatever Shakespeare over here said."
The three hastily subsided as Cerise entered the room.
"Miss Romanov's here to see you, Mr. Stark," she managed a wan smile at Tony, carefully avoiding directing her eyes anywhere near Steve--
It hurt to even look at him.
Outwardly, nothing had changed--training went on as usual, and Steve remained unerringly polite--ever the consummate professional.
But it was the little things that cut Cerise to the quick--the way he'd stopped correcting her every time she called him Mr. Rogers--the way his fingers never brushed away her hair no matter how many times it fell over her face--the way it had become so rare now to ever see a smile from him--when once it had always softened his face whenever he looked at her.
She hadn't realized how much she'd begun to depend on those things--how they had become as vital to her as the methodical working of her lungs--
Until Steve had snatched them away from her.
And now she was coming up short for air.
Cerise had lost him--
And she would have done her best to try and bring him back to her--
Except she was in love with him--
And it would have flayed open what was left of her shattered heart to see him push her away again.
So she let him slip from her clutches.
If Cerise had been sharp enough to notice the agony outlining the edges of Steve's eyes whenever their gazes accidentally met, she might not have been so sure of her conviction--
But they were separate even in the sameness of their heartbreak.
And neither of them were aware of it.

~~~

Cerise shivered uneasily--no matter how often she turned up the heat, she always seemed to remain cold these days.
Not even the familiar warmth of her blanket could help.
She smiled gratefully as Luffy sinuously slipped between her arms, butting her head gently against Cerise's chin.
"Guess it's just you and me again, old girl," Cerise said ruefully, holding the cat securely against her chest. "I know you won't leave me, at least."
Luffy simply regarded her out of inscrutable, lamplike eyes.
As always, Cerise had the niggling sense that the feline knew exactly what had been said to her.
She started in surprise as the door swung open--
Hooks seemed to twist painfully in Cerise's stomach as she whirled around to face her now-open room, wildly hoping it was Steve--
But it wasn't.
"Well, you look disappointed to see me," Natasha remarked dryly.
Cerise stammered in discomfort.
"No--it's not that, I just--"
"Relax," the spy waved a hand dismissively. "I don't take things personally--and besides, I think I know who you're waiting for. Now come on, get ready. We're leaving."
"Leaving?" Cerise eyed the S.H.I.E.L.D agent warily. "Leaving where? Aren't my lessons over for the day?"
"They are," Natasha agreed. "But I don't want to let you off if you're just going to mope around for the rest of the day."
Cerise flushed a dull shade of scarlet.
"I'm not--"
"Yes, you are," Natasha cut across her. "Might as well admit it--you're miserable. And frustrated. I get that--but you're an Avenger now, kid. Or at least--one in training. And we don't teach our successors to sit around and drown in their imagined sense of helplessness. Life shouldn't push you around-- you should push life around."
Green met green as they locked eyes.
"So you can either sit here, be miserable and do nothing," Natasha extended her arm. "Or you can go out, be miserable and work on your skills--and come back knowing you did something worthwhile with your day, even if you felt like utter crap. So which is it going to be?"
Cerise stared at her, arrested mid-motion--
And then took her hand.

~~~

Quotho roared in fury, throwing the contents of the spacecraft against the hard planes of its own frigid walls.
The floor shuddered under his feet in protest, rivets shrieking as they came apart--
But Quotho was impervious to everything that lay in the wake of his wrath.
"Calm yourself, my liege," Jhago said in alarmed tones. "This will do nothing to help us."
"Years," Quotho hissed, ignoring his brother's ineffectual attempts at pacification. "Years have we spent planning her capture. And it was ruined."
"Ruined," he spat with venom. "Because of a common soldier. A human."
"No one could have foreseen what the girl did," Jhago placated in vain. "She sacrificed herself for the mortal--"
"AND WE NEARLY LOST HER!" Quotho bellowed. "What if her powers had manifested a second too late? She could have died--and all our work would have been for naught."
"Would it have really been so terrible?" Jhago questioned tentatively, shadowing Quotho's restless feet. "If she had died that day--it would mean there would never be a chance of her returning to that--that place. We are playing with fire here, brother--she is the union of two of the mightiest bloodlines to ever exist. Even we do not know what she is truly capable of."
"It is precisely because she is the product of that bloodline that we must have her," Quotho replied, finally coming to a standstill. "We will need to begin anew. It is clear to me now that we cannot use the girl and Steven Rogers as leverage against each other--she may do herself irreparable harm in a bid to protect him--we must not risk that."
"She is like nothing we have ever seen before, Jhago--if we utilize her correctly--in the manner we spent so many years discovering--we could create a super race of our own. We could take this world--and every world, by storm."
Quotho directed the full force of his gaze onto Jhago.
"We could win this war, brother."

Chapter Text

Got To Hide Your Love Away

Tony eyed Cerise with ill-concealed caution--
She seemed as taut and vulnerably exposed as a raw nerve.
He didn't want to cause her any further injury by a thoughtless remark--
But she was worrying him.
"The wiring is almost done for this piece," Cerise said, voice as brittle as a nub of chalk. "Just this last part left, I'll--"
"Fuck," she cursed as her hand trembled in place, and the circuitry, nearly complete until then--fell apart.
"I'll fix it, I'm sorry," Cerise frantically lifted up the cables, but she was shaking in earnest now, her words soused in barely repressed tears.
"I'm sorry," she let the metal contraption fall from her hands, entire frame shuddering violently. "I'm sorry, I--"
"Hey," Tony hurried over in alarm, and after a brief moment of hesitation--gingerly put his arms around her. "Hey, kid, it's okay."
"It's not your fault," he said gently, raising his voice slightly over the sound of her muffled sobs.
They both knew it wasn't the lab work he was alluding to.
"He won't talk to me," Cerise helplessly choked out. "Why won't he talk to me, Mr. Stark?"
Tony felt his throat tighten at the naked plaintiveness clinging to her question.
"Because he's an idiot, Bambi," he sighed heavily in response, rubbing Cerise's shoulder with hands clumsy in inexperience. "Give Steve time. He'll come around, I promise."
"But why?" Cerise seemed to crumple against him lifelessly. "I don't understand what I did."
"You jumped," Tony replied quietly. "You reminded him of how helpless he's forced to become when someone's ready to give their life for him. It's not the first time it's happened, kid."
"Sergeant Barnes," she realized with a slow roll of nausea. "I reminded him of Sergeant Barnes."
Cerise raised tortured eyes to Tony.
"I didn't mean to," she whispered. "I didn't, I swear--"
"I know," Tony ruffled her hair. "I know you didn't. He's just scared, Bambi."
"Of what?"
Losing you, Tony wanted to tell her. Loving you and losing you anyway.
But he couldn't.
It wasn't his place to say.
Sensing that Tony couldn't--or wouldn't respond to her, Cerise moved away from him.
"I should head to bed," she said, voice still thick with tears. "It's kinda late."
Tony nodded, ire rising within him towards Steve as he looked at Cerise's glassy eyes.
"Thank you for listening..." Cerise turned back to look at him, managing a watery smile.
"...Tony."

~~~

Cerise slumped to the ground, back braced against the rough surface of the door.
She simply didn't have the energy to stay upright a moment longer--not even to make it to the bed.
Without Steve to steady her, it felt like she was constantly balancing on a tightrope--liable to fall at any moment.
And what safety net could possibly exist below her, now that he had left?
She would never know it, but at that moment, Steve was leaning against the other end of her door--
Their backs bridged away from touch by just the barrier of wood.
Spotting her guitar lying nearby, Cerise listlessly strummed her fingers against the strings--
Just to give her hands something to do other than long to catch at Steve's.
The song seemed to slip out of her of its own accord--it didn't care that her throat was rusty with disuse--it wanted out.
And out it came.
"Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be sure
He's gotta be soon
He's gotta be larger than life
I need a hero..."
Outside, Steve heard the forlorn wisps of Cerise's voice settle into his ears--
He buried his head in his hands and wept.

~~~

The milky whiteness of the page seemed to swim in front of Steve's burning eyes--his hands moving idly across the sheet.
There was, at least to Steve, no conscious thought guiding his movement--
But when he looked down to see what he'd drawn, he recognized the familiar lines of Cerise's face, etched in soft strokes by his own fingers.
It was hardly the first time it had happened--over the past weeks the long inkspill of her hair had tumbled across the pages of Steve's sketchpad--
They were filled with the elegant arch of her hands, the sharp jut of her collarbones, the perfect double curve of her shell-pink lips--
And the striations in the verdant, ever-changing hues of her eyes.
Steve felt as though it brought him closer to her in some inexplicable way--even amidst the chasm he'd created between them.
The pad dropped from his grip in surprise as the door to his room swung wide, nearly rocking back upon its hinges with the force at which it had been flung open.
"Get off your ass and talk to Cerise this instant," Tony growled at him without preamble. "This has gone on long enough, Steve. What you're doing--for whatever reasons, and I know them--is unconscionably cruel. Have you fucking seen the way she looks these days Rogers, you're being utterly heartle--"
"I look at her every minute of every day," Steve said wearily, feeling as though his limbs had turned to stone. "It's impossible not to."
There was simply no fight left in him as he dully met Tony's glare.
"Then why the fuck won't you talk to her?" Tony demanded, aggravated.
Steve gave up--it took all the energy from his bones to keep himself away from Cerise.
He didn't have room for his secrets anymore.
"I see her in my dreams every night, Tony," Steve's eyes were far away and unfocused, clouded with the feelings he dared not name. "And you'd think that it would be a good thing, wouldn't you-- dreaming about the people you care for--happy things--a picnic, a dance, a candlelit dinner--"
"But when I have them," Steve said bitterly, desolation seeming to echo through the hollow spaces in his words. "I see her broken and dying in front of me, her blood on my hands. She asks me: 'why couldn't you save me, Steve?' And every time I answer: 'I tried, darling--'"
Steve lifted his agonized eyes towards Tony.
"And every time she tells me: 'You didn't try hard enough.'"
"And then I wake up," Steve's voice was fraying, tearing apart at the seams. "And my sweetheart is the first thing I want to see--the only thing I ever want to see. And when I finally get to look at her--at her face, at her smile--it feels like a gift-- from God even, if I were a man who believed in one. It feels like staring into the face of the sun, Tony--I'm blinded to all other beauty except hers--her smile is the only light I know will always shine on me."
Steve's throat seemed to be closing in on itself--he struggled to finish the last of his sentences.
"So I look at Cerise, and I think to myself: 'I would stay away from her for the rest of my life--if it meant that I could keep that smile alive."
Tony was aghast--staring speechlessly at Steve's head, hung low under the weight of his admission.
"You're breaking your own heart, Cap," he said finally, eyes still dark with shock.
Steve smiled sadly.
"She's worth every piece of it."
Steve slumped against the headboard of his bed--didn't wait to see if Tony had chosen to stay or leave.
Didn't care.
He could feel the freezing shards pierce his powerless heart--
It occurred to Steve that he had never fully left the ice--not really--
It was a part of him now.
And if he wasn't careful, one day--
It would swallow him whole.

Chapter Text

Freezer Burn

Steve entered the training room with the underlying tension of trepidation coiled in his veins.
While he did see Cerise every day for their lessons in managing her powers (it was his responsibility; and he would not shy away from it, he owed her that much)--and it necessitated at least a modicum of conversation, the experience grew more torturous for him by the day--
Steve ached to smooth away the lines that now marred her forehead every time she saw him--but he couldn't.
It took everything in him to keep his hands in place--and not against her skin.
She hadn't noticed him entering yet, directing brittle yet controlled blows against the waiting punching bag.
Steve could see how much she'd improved in the five months she'd been with them--with him--
And even now, it filled him with an immense sense of pride.
It helped thaw the splinters of ice lodged in his chest--just a little.
"Miss Romanov," Cerise said at hearing his cautiously approaching footsteps, without turning around.
"It's--"
Cerise whirled around at the sound of his voice.
"Natasha isn't here," Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably. "She said she had S.H.I.E.L.D. paperwork planned for today, and asked me to take over training just this once."
Nothing he'd just said was untrue--but Steve had a strong suspicion that the spy had only used her work as a pretext to force him to spend more time with Cerise.
Natasha hardly ever skipped out on training--
And certainly not for mere paperwork.
But he couldn't say that to Cerise.
Certainly not when the guarded, hurt bewilderment in her eyes smote Steve with the force of a battering ram.
There had been a time once, when she'd only had complete trust in her eyes when she looked at him.
And he had no one to blame but himself for the absence of it, now.
The lack of it--the lack of that trust chilled Steve so acutely that the sensation almost burnt.
"Okay," Cerise swallowed, carefully avoiding his gaze. "We were--we were supposed to be working on hand-to-hand combat today."
Steve nodded, longing to cup her face in his hands and tell her that none of this was her fault--
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Instead, Steve beckoned her forward.
"Try and land a hit on me, for now," he said softly. "And block the attacks I make in response. We'll work up from there."
It wasn't much of a challenge fending off Cerise's blows--but he could still see her progress in the manner of her movements--
She hit with more precision--there was greater steadiness to the way she defended herself.
Even so, the match itself was short-lived--
Steve easily pinned her arms down to her sides in a matter of minutes.
His fingers throbbed with the need to stroke over her skin.
Cerise nearly toppled backward with the loss of balance, and as Steve hurriedly stepped forward to brace her, he realized he was pressing the lines of her supple-soft body into the wall with his own.
Involuntarily, his gaze flickered down to her mouth, and even as he did, her lips parted slightly--almost as if in response to his transfixed look.
Steve wanted to--
He cut off the thought almost before it had time to form--backing away from Cerise as if there were filaments of electricity coursing through her body.
"I need to--I need to go," Steve stammered, face paling. "Lesson's over. Sorry, I'm sorry, I--"
He didn't wait to finish his sentence, striding out of the room as fast as he was able--
Leaving Cerise to stare after him in confusion.

~~~

Jhago joined Quotho at his place leaning over the railing.
"What is our plan now, brother?" He asked, continuing further when Quotho did not reply. "We cannot endanger the soldier anymore--the girl will--"
"We are not endangering the soldier," Quotho said slowly. "We will not capture the two of them together, either. No--I have something different in mind."
Jhago turned to stare at him.
"What else can we possibly do to draw them out, now? They will not risk letting her out of their sight--the Avengers are many things, but they are not foolish."
"We will bring them out," Quotho promised. "Or, I should say--we will bring her out. Her and her alone."
Silently, Quotho handed Jhago a blurred, grainy photograph--the figure indistinct, but clearly masculine.
"We are going to target the past she has tried so hard to hide, Jhago," Quotho revealed. "Someone she will not want to share with her newfound 'friends.' Someone innocent--someone she fought to keep away from this life."
Gradually, a smile crept over Jhago's lips.
"Then she will come alone, and we will capture her," he surmised.
"She will come alone," Quotho affirmed. "And we will finally begin the ritual."

~~~

Steve massaged his head in frustration--there seemed to be a permanent place of pain lodged between his eyes these days.
He just couldn't shake it.
Steve winced as the door flung open, narrowly resisting the urge to snap at Tony as the man stepped into his room.
"Are you here to castigate me for not talking to Cerise?" Steve asked him in quiet exhaustion.
"Something like that," there was a strange, grim light in Tony's eyes as he looked at Steve. "Last chance, Cap. Are you going to quit channeling all your feelings into your goddamned sketchpad and direct them where they're supposed to go--toward the kid?"
He picked up the pad with the tips of his fingers, rifling through the pages to prove his point to Steve--
Cerise's eyes gleamed green accusation at them from amidst the folds of the pages.
Steve averted his gaze instantly.
"You know I can't, Tony," he said tiredly. "I just can't."
"Fine," Tony's jaw tightened. "Then I think I should inform you that I'm going to be taking Bambi with me. Away from New York."
Steve choked--it was as if Tony's words had claimed a vice-like grip around his lungs--
He couldn't breathe.
"Why?" Steve asked, numb with shock.
"Because it's not good for her to be here anymore," Tony replied flatly. "She's wasting away, wondering why you won't speak to her, what she did that was so wrong--waiting for you to come to your senses and go to her--but you won't. And if you aren't going to--then it's best that Cerise be away from you. She won't know a moment's peace otherwise."
Agony was flaring within Steve now-- clamoring inside the crevices of his brain. He knew Tony was right, but--
Watching her was all he had left to him.
Tracing the delicate instep of her feet as she passed to and fro from their apartment--inhaling the soothing scent she left behind, no matter how briefly she was in a room--
Just the balm of her presence, whether or not they spoke.
How was Steve to live without it--without her?
It would be like robbing even the pretended solace of a mirage from a man in the desert.
"She'll stay with Pepper and me in one of our hideaways," Tony glanced at Steve warily, not without a certain pitying cast to his dark eyes. "We'll leave in a few days. Unless--"
He turned back to look at Steve from his position halfway out the door.
"Unless you change your mind," Tony finished, searching Steve's face.
Steve opened his mouth to respond--and what he would have said he still didn't know--
Because the next thing he knew, Cerise's high, terrified scream was piercing the air.

Chapter Text

Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

Steve was out the door and running before Tony could so much as blink--the staccato beat of his racing footsteps hitting the floor like gunshots.
He was barely conscious of Tony chasing after him, aware of nothing but the deadness of the silence in the wake of Cerise's scream.
Steve banged open the door to her room, expecting--
He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't Cerise huddled on the floor, tawny skin bleached of all color.
Steve bent down to her in an instant--Tony doing the same on the other side of her.
"Swee-Cerise, what's wrong?" Steve wrapped his fingers around her thin arm--she seemed to rattle silently in his hold.
Cerise stared at him, mouth parting open--
And then her gaze flitted to the half-open laptop on her bed--and something shuttered closed in her eyes.
"Kid?" Tony prompted.
I--it's nothing," Cerise avoided meeting their searching glances. "It was just--just a bad dream. I get those often--I'm sorry I disturbed you."
Steve narrowed his eyes with suspicion--worry coiling deep within him.
The way she'd screamed--it had been too full of raw heartache to have just been because of a nightmare.
"I get the feeling you're lying to us, Bambi," Tony appeared to have the same thought as Steve. "Whatever it is, you can tell us."
"It's nothing," Cerise's lips stretched painfully in the effort to smile. "I'm fine."
Something didn't sit right in Steve's stomach, looking at the expression on her face--
But Tony had already turned to leave, and though he wanted to stay--Steve had no logical reason to.
Cerise had said it was nothing--and he couldn't force it out of her.
She watched them go with hooded eyes--and once they'd left, picked up her laptop with shuddering fingers.
The video played itself over and over again, the image burning into the backs of Cerise's eyes.
Jeremy stared at her out of mute, amber eyes, coppery hair bloodied and mussed.
He was working his mouth furiously, but the gag cutting itself into the seam of his lips prevented the slightest sound from coming out.
The two heavily cowled figures flanked him on either side, sinisterly curved khanjalis digging into different points on his neck.
"The boy will die if you do not come in place of him, Cerise Solange," one of the figures rasped gutturally. "His blood will be on your head."
Cerise was choking--the air seemed stuck in her throat. She had done everything--given up everything, to keep Jeremy safe.
She'd watched him from afar--made sure he was never in any danger--let him walk out of her life even though it had shredded her apart.
And even after all that, she'd still managed to ruin his life.
Her heart was spasming in her chest as she looked at Jeremy's terrified face.
This was her fault.
All her own fault.
"If you want him to walk out of this alive, the shorter of the figures growled. "You will come to us alone--no soldier, no billionaire, no spy, no Asgardian. You will come alone--to the warehouse you first used your seeking device in. You have twenty-four hours--or the boy dies."
The video shut off with a definitive click--and Cerise felt the bile rise in her throat, scalding her insides.
Even if they hadn't specified it, she would have gone alone anyway--it was her responsibility.
Her mistake to fix.
She would sooner be captured herself than put Tony or Natasha in harm's way--and sooner die than risk Steve being hurt.
Even then, in the midst of her stricken, horrified state--she winced in longing around the syllables of his name.
But there was no time left.
None at all.
Cerise set her mouth into a hard line, using numb fingers to slip into her stealth-suit.
She strapped the dagger Natasha had given her to her thigh--it wasn't much, and Cerise knew there were guns stocked in the training room--
But she couldn't afford to alert anyone to her leaving the compound.
Frost seemed to crystallize in Cerise's veins as she crept out of the room--eyes adjusting gradually to the darkness.
She froze in panic as the lights suddenly flicked on--
And met Steve's uncompromising gaze.
"Where do you think you're going?" He asked flatly.

~~~

"What the fuck is going on, Cerise?" Tony demanded, glaring at her. "Why were you trying to sneak out in the middle of the night, carrying a knife and in your stealth-suit?"
Steve said nothing--but his eyes seemed to bore holes into Cerise's face.
"I--" Cerise sunk to the floor, the energy holding her up flooding out of her limbs.
She hit the floor so fast neither Steve nor Tony had time to catch her.
"Cerise," Steve's face was instantly wiped clean of anger--suffused with alarm instead as he looped his hands around her wrists. "Talk to us."
"Bambi," Tony steadied her by her shoulders, eyes dark and troubled. "You need to tell us what's wrong."
Silently, Cerise held up the laptop, pressing play on the footage.
She didn't think she would be able to talk, even if she'd wanted to--even as she watched the two of them blanch back in shock as the video ran on.
"Who is he?" Steve's voice was strained with tension as he spoke up-- the minute the video ceased playing.
"He's--he's," Cerise's voice seemed to cling to the insides of her throat. "I can't explain. He just needs to be safe--I need to go get him, I--"
"We'll get him for you, I promise," Steve cut across her. "Natasha and Thor will be back in the morning--Tony's already gone to inform them of the situation. I'll assemble the team as soon as it's first light--we'll save him, Cerise. But you're not going."
Her mouth popped open in disbelief.
"Don't you understand? They want me alone--if anyone else shows up they're going to hurt him! I can't let that happen--why won't you understand--"
"I understand perfectly," Steve replied, muscle jumping in his jaw. "This is a trap and I won't let you fall for it. You're not coming with us, and that's final."
"IT ISN'T YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE," Cerise yelled back, a welter of fright and fury and fear sweeping inside her. "YOU DON'T FUCKING GET TO DECIDE FOR ME!"
"Yes I do," Steve snapped back. "I'm the leader of this team and what I say goes. And I say that you aren't going. Whoever they are, they're baiting you--and if you go you will end up dead. I told you you're never going on a mission again--and I meant it."
Cerise's eyes were flaming as she looked at Steve.
"Would you be saying this to Peggy if she were in my place?" She asked quietly--even that an exacerbation of the acrid atmosphere.
And it was too much for Steve--
The absolute terror roiling within him at the thought of Cerise nearly throwing herself into danger once again--the punishing intensity of his feelings when he saw Cerise--like his entire world was composed within her diminutive frame--like her small hands could encompass the entirety of his heart.
It was all too much.
"You are not Peggy!" Steve finally exploded. "You will never be Peggy, so stop trying to take her place!"
Cerise looked as though she would have preferred a slap to the face rather than the accusation Steve had flung at her.
He regretted them the minute they were out--he hadn't meant a single word of it--
There had never been any competition between the two--Steve had never thought of Cerise's presence as an imposition--
But she'd already turned on her heel and fled.

~~~

The edges of the sky had only just begun to lighten--like the corners of a handkerchief washed one too many times--when Cerise finally stood up, every muscle in her body taut with agitation.
Any minute now, Steve or Tony would come into her room--tell her the team was about to leave.
But she wouldn't give them the chance.
She'd made her preparations--
And even then, after everything Steve had said and done--it wasn't the anger, or the hurt that was fueling her--
It was the question of safety.
His safety--and Tony's, and Natasha's--and Jeremy's.
It didn't matter to her that she was almost certainly going to her death--not as long as Jeremy emerged out of it alive--not as long as everyone else remained safe.
Cerise flexed her hand--her power had seemed to lock itself inside her chest for the past month--but it had to come out now.
It had to.
Blood trickled from the corners of her lips as the window flew open of its own volition.
It was just wide enough for Cerise to slip through--and she did just that.
Luffy yowled loudly--frantically trying to catch at Cerise's heels with her paws--but she had already climbed out on the ledge outside her bedroom window.
"I'm sorry, Luff," tears pricked in Cerise's eyes. "I can't take you with me this time. I love you--and they'll take care of you, I know it."
She slammed the window shut behind her--her magic scorching her veins as she levitated herself all the way to the helipad.
Cerise chose one of the smaller jets--the one that would make the least noise.
The engine flared to life under her hands--and against all odds, she managed to escape with no one the wiser.
By the time the warehouse came within sight, dull orange streaks were spreading across the sky.
Cerise dismounted and took in a long, trembling breath--whatever happened to her, she would make sure Jeremy walked out unscathed.
She would accept no other alternative.
Soon enough Cerise could make out Jeremy's lanky figure--she could have recognized him from miles away.
She began running--running like she never had before--and as she closed the distance between them, she realized Jeremy was trying to tell her something--warning flashing in his blown-wide pupils.
Trap , he was mouthing at her. It's a trap!
The next thing Cerise knew, blinding pain hit her across the head--
And everything went black.

Chapter Text

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Steve paced in agitation down the length of their living room.
The mere possibility of attaining any sleep seemed laughable--
Not when Cerise's stricken face appeared to loom right in front of his eyes--the bruised betrayal in her gaze when he'd accused her of something she hadn't even done-- it cut into him like the lash of a whip.
Steve couldn't stand another second of the guilt wracking him in waves--he had to make it alright, somehow.
He had to let her know that he hadn't meant a single syllable of it--that it wasn't even close to how he thought of her.
He had to apologize.
It was barely even morning, but he couldn't wait another minute. She had to know.
Steve was outside her door in an instant--and the first faint stirrings of foreboding rose up in him at the sound of Luffy howling.
He pushed the door open with shaking hands.
Luffy yowled at him urgently, grazed paws desperately scrabbling at the shut window.
Steve had only just begun to panic when Tony raced into the room, face ashen.
"One of the jets is missing," he fumed, though the anger in his tone was secondary to the fear Tony was echoing back to Steve. "God, that stupid fucking kid--"
The flash of the laptop screen caught the corner of Steve's eye--
'Play Me', said the note attached to it, scrawled in Cerise's familiar hand.
Numbly, Steve pressed down on the keypad.
Cerise stared out at them from eyes almost washed out by the shadows ringing them underneath, thin face pale yet set.
"By the time you see this, I'll be gone," she said, voice tinny from the effect of the speakers, but no less firm because of it. "And it'll be too late for you to come after me."
"Please don't try," she urged. "I don't want you in danger any more than I want Jeremy to be in it. I would give my life to keep any and all of you safe--I'm willing to do it today, and if I somehow manage to make it back to you--I'll be willing to do it every day after this one."
Cerise laughed ruefully, and dread, so black and deep he seemed to be falling endlessly through it--threatened to swallow Steve whole.
"But I don't think there's much chance of that happening," she continued ruefully. I'm going to do my best to send him here--so please take care of Jeremy. Make sure he remains safe. And I suppose-- I suppose this is goodbye. "
She let out a trembling breath, and Steve was immobilized with fear--he could barely hear the steady stream of curses issuing from Tony's mouth as the video continued to play.
"Mr. Stark--Tony," she said haltingly. "Thank you. I didn't think you liked me at first--actually, I'm pretty sure you didn't--but you understood me. Whether it was about how I shouldn't be afraid of taking up space in this compound--or how I needed to feel like I was paying you back in some way--or even these last few weeks, when I felt like I was alone all over again--you were there for me. You never judged me, or thought I was weak, or thought I was silly for it--you always, always understood. I guess you saw some good in me, after all-- and I can't thank you enough for it."
"And tell--tell Miss Romanov," she tremulously added. "That I'm sorry I wasn't such a great student--but she taught me what it meant to be a strong woman anyway--and it had nothing to do with fighting. She didn't let me wallow, didn't let me waste away--and I'm always going to be grateful."
"And Mr. Rogers," Cerise's voice seemed to be coming from a great distance toward Steve--there was a dull ringing in his ears as her torturous words continued.
"I don't know what it was that I did that upset you so badly, but I'm sorry anyway--I don't think you know this--but meeting you, and knowing you, and learning from you--it was the best thing that ever happened to me. You made this place home--the first home I ever had--and I'm glad we got to be friends--that I got to be close to you."
She smiled sadly at him, and Steve felt his heart shatter.
"I know I can't ever compare to Peggy--or what the two of you shared--but I swear I never wanted to take her place. I guess-- " Cerise shrugged helplessly.
"I guess all I wanted was for you to spare just a little piece of your heart for me--was it too much to ask for?"
You have all of it, Steve wanted to scream--didn't even realize he'd hit the floor until the hard woodenness of it hurt his knees. You have every bit, and more.
"I'd like to think that if we had more time, I could have had it--that you would have given it to me--that we could have fixed this. And I'd be lying if I said that I was happy with the time we got--because no amount of time with you would ever be enough. I did treasure it though--I will always treasure it."
She pressed her fingers to her lips and held them outwards.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers. Goodbye."
It wasn't until then--until the video clicked off and Cerise's face was lost to him, that Steve finally understood what Peggy must have felt when he'd crashed that plane--and himself with it.
He'd gone to his death and there hadn't been a thing Peggy could do to save him--and now Cerise had done the same.
She had gone thinking she'd had no place in his life--when she'd had the only one that ever mattered.
Why couldn't he have understood why she'd been ready to give her life for him?
If it had been him on that ledge, and letting himself fall would have meant saving her--
Steve would have jumped in a heartbeat.
The enormity of the mistake he'd committed--everything he should have done instead--everything he should have said--knocked him back with the force of a freight train. If he hadn't already been kneeling on the floor, Steve would have buckled under right then.
It scorched so violently in his veins, Steve half-expected to find himself burning in the flames of his own remorse.
But he could punish himself later--he had to save Cerise.
There was no world without her that Steve could bear to live in--none.
She was still alive--he knew it--he refused to accept the alternative.
Steve would bring her back--he had to.
And he would spend the rest of his life making Cerise happy, no matter what it took--because it was the least of what she deserved.
But she had to come back for that.
She had to come back to him.
"Snap out of it, Tony," Steve barked, white-faced but resolute, pulling Tony up from where he'd been bending down, head buried in his hands.
"We're going to get her back. It's not over yet--call Natasha and Thor. Tell them to follow after us in one of the smaller jets once they get here. And put your suit on--we're leaving now."
Luffy chased at his heels as Steve ran from the room.
He picked her up in his arms, barely even pausing.
"I'm going to bring her home," Steve promised the feline. "I will. And I'm going to rip whoever took her apart until they're begging for mercy."

~~~

Cerise's eyes flicked open, narrowing against the harsh yellow glare of the brightly-lit--
Was it a room?
It couldn't be--the walls were of hard-beaten corrugated steel--or at least, what looked like steel--the space seemed to stretch on for miles, to Cerise's disoriented gaze.
She could feel the slickness of her blood coating her temples--it stung as it trickled into her eyes.
Cerise could make out a faintly glowing panel to her left--blurred glyphs of a strange nature illuminating the area with a faint sheen.
Some primitive form of a hovercraft, then.
She swung her head around in a frantic bid to find an escape route--and came face-to-face with Jeremy, bound head to toe in ropes.
"No," Cerise breathed out in horror, lunging forward to get to him--
And found herself chained to a wooden post, thick black manacles curled around her wrists and ankles.
They'd pinioned her hands to her sides--effectively trapping her magic.
"Jeremy," she called urgently--and then broke off when two hooded figures stepped out from the shadows.
"You are awake," said the shorter of the two in a grating, gravel-coated voice. "We can begin."
"Who are you?" Cerise demanded, straining against her bonds in vain. "What do you want from me? Let Jeremy go!"
"To be told what you are being used for--what you are to die for--there is dignity in that, is there not?" The taller of the two had a cooler voice--more liquid, even as it remained guttural.
"Why should we afford you that courtesy--you, who threatened all that we have worked for?"
"I don't even know you!" Cerise struggled ineffectually, the cold iron biting into her skin. "I've never seen you before in my life! Please let Jeremy go--he has nothing to do with this."
"We have known of you long before you were born," the cowled creature replied calmly. "And yes, the boy was only captured to bring you here to us--I suppose you thought you could save him. But he will die here, just as you will once the ritual is complete."
Even within the petrified look Jeremy shot her, Cerise could feel the burn of the accusation flaring in his amber eyes.
"Jhago, the purifying potion, if you will," the larger of the two reached out a hand without turning away from Cerise.
"Here, brother," Jhago--if that were truly his name, handed the hooded apparition a vial of bilious, simmering black liquid.
There was a flickering sort of uncertainty in Jhago's slit-pupilled eyes as he regarded Cerise--as if something about that vial scared him.
But he remained silent as his brother approached her--and dark, engulfing terror overtook Cerise.
The chains rattled violently as she shook, desperately trying to dredge up even the merest drop of power.
But there was nothing.
Jhago's hands were as rough as tree-bark as they seized her chin, immobilizing her face without the slightest effort.
He forced the contents of the vial into her mouth--Cerise refused to swallow, but Jhago pinched her nose--and she had to choke it down.
And then Cerise was screaming--agony like nothing she'd ever known twisting her body out of shape.
She didn't know how her throat didn't rip itself apart--didn't know how much time had passed--didn't know whether her two torturers were still there or had left.
There was only her, and the pain--
The bone-deep, excruciating pain--like she was freezing, yet her blood was boiling in her veins--like her organs were rupturing, one by one--like she was being submerged in acid over and over again.
She couldn't have described it in any way that made sense except that she was dying by degrees.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started--the pain abated.
Cerise heaved for air--not daring to believe it was over--and instantly searched for Jeremy.
He was still bound next to her--the other two had disappeared.
She supposed they hadn't wanted to hear her shred her own voice apart.
"Jer," she croaked, barely able to speak at all. "Jer, I'm sorry, I--"
"Monster," he spat at her bitterly. "You're just as much of a monster as they are. I'm here because of you--I never wanted any part of this. I was done with you years ago, the minute you revealed yourself for what you really were--a freak. You did this to me."
Shame scalded Cerise's throat--it hurt worse than the tube roughly jabbed into her arm, sucking out both her blood and all her energy.
"I just wanted to keep you safe," she said lifelessly. "There was a time when we were happy--a time when you loved me. You'd sneak me into your college, and teach me about engineering and science--you were my first friend, my first love. You took care of me--and I hate that you hate me now. I hate that I can't save you--when I left your life like you asked me to, after--after these powers first came up--I left just to keep you safe. But I failed you, and I--"
Cerise broke off as a warm chink of cerulean light fell across her face.
She stilled--forgot the misery of her situation.
And right then--she didn't feel so alone--didn't feel like there was nothing she could do.
She wouldn't accept defeat--there was no way for her to make it out alive--but Jeremy could.
Cerise could do that much.
She could feel her magic thrumming deep within her--clamoring for release.
"Jer," she said hoarsely, and his head shot up at the change in her tone. "I'm going to get you out of this. We're going to get out of these restraints--and then I'm going to help you find the exit. And once we do--you leave me behind and you run. Run like hell and don't stop till you reach the Avengers Tower. They'll protect you."
"Get ready, Jeremy."
Cerise's eyes darkened.
"Because I'm about to blow this whole place apart."

~~~

Steve hit the ground running, heart hammering in his chest as he saw the strange vessel looming behind the warehouse--it was both angular and bulbous, swallowed almost entirely by whispering shadows spreading across it like a sinister sort of shawl.
Tony hovered overhead--cursing vehemently as a phalanx of chittering, carapace-covered creatures fanned out between them and the vessel.
Even as Steve registered their arrival--the vessel let out an ear-splitting shriek, the metal seeming to rend itself apart.
"GO, TONY!" Steve bellowed. "I'LL HOLD THEM OFF! That's Cerise in there making it self-destruct, she's alive--fly in and get her out before the whole thing collapses!"
Tony didn't wait to answer, dodging the snarling aliens and heading with break-neck speed toward the rapidly crumpling hovercraft.
He blew a hole through the ridged roof with his glove--buffeted by the onslaught of falling debris.
Tony froze in horror as he spotted a prone figure upon the ground--
Cerise lay there unmoving, face-down in a pool of blood.

Chapter Text

I Carry Your Heart With Me

"God, no," Tony breathed in horror, instantly sinking to his knees to lift Cerise into his arms. "No, you can't be dead. Wake up, Bambi. You've got to wake up."
He shook her desperately--and nearly collapsed in relief when Cerise's eyes flew open.
Tony's hands were frantically skidding over her blood-soaked skin.
"Where are you hurt? Where are you bleeding?"
"I'm n-not," Cerise's eyes were unfocused, clouded over with confusion as she tried to stammer out an explanation. "N-not bleeding--but it's my blood. They--they wanted it I--"
Nothing of what she said made sense to Tony--but it wasn't the time.
He had to get her out of there, before they were buried alive under the ruins of the vessel.
Tony launched himself off the metal flooring, careful not to jostle Cerise as she slumped in his hold.
"Jeremy," she grabbed his arm with as much force as that of a drifting feather. "Where's Jeremy? Tony, you have to get him--I brought this place down for him--you have to--"
"Hey, hey, relax," Tony soothed, alarmed by how pale Cerise had become--her skin had nearly turned translucent--he could almost imagine seeing the delicate tracery of her veins lying underneath.
"You did good, kid," he said quietly. "You did real good."
Tony's earpiece crackled to life, startling him as he flew over the debris of the hovercraft.
"Tony," Steve panted. "Did you--did you find her--is she--"
"She's alive," he replied, sensing rather than hearing the trembling breath Steve let out in response. "Disoriented and pretty banged up, but she's alive. We're heading your way now. Have you seen that Jeremy kid anywhere?"
"I saw the boy," Steve said grimly. "He ran away and left Cerise behind. He's in one of the jets now."
The fury lacing his tone was palpable, but Tony had bigger things to worry about--
Cerise was turning whiter by the minute--he wasn't even sure she was still conscious, her eyes lowering into half-moon slits.
He had to get her help.
"Cap, status on the aliens?" Tony growled, exerting the force of his thrusters to the maximum.
"They just suddenly ran off--like they'd received orders to do so," Steve answered in frustration. "Thor went after them--I would have gone, but I need to see her, I need to--"
Steve cut himself off, voice brittle and shaking.
"Yeah, I know," Tony said carefully. "I get it. We're close--start the Quinjet Steve. She needs medical attention stat."
Tony finally landed outside the jet, setting Cerise down with painstaking slowness onto the ramp, careful to keep a firm hold around her shoulders.
"Kid?" He tapped the side of her face gently. "You still with me?"
"Yeah," she swallowed painfully. "Yeah, I'm good."
Tony didn't believe her--she was swaying in place despite not having moved an inch.
Cerise stiffened as thundering footsteps raced their way down the ramp--
Steve careened to a stop in front of them--
And Cerise stared into the same blue she'd seen in the vessel, right at the very end.
It was like coming home all over again--she was safe.
She was finally safe.
But then Cerise remembered--Steve wouldn't want to talk to her.
She'd run away without telling him--had forced them to risk their lives to save her anyway--and he would be furious.
And Cerise couldn't--
She couldn't bear it--she would break apart if she heard another harsh word from Steve.
Not right then--not when she already felt hollow--weightless--as if the very marrow had been leeched from her bones.
Steve was motionless, jaw working silently as he stood in place.
"Whatever you have to say to me," Cerise said faintly, voice barely disturbing the air. "Can it wait please because--oh!"
She broke off in shock--
Because Steve had run forward and gathered her into his arms.
He was holding her so tightly Cerise wondered if he was afraid she would fade from his grasp--
If he didn't keep her anchored to him.
"Oh, thank god," Steve choked into the satin sheet of her hair. "You--you came back. You came back to me, sweetheart. I'm sorry--I'm so--"
He cut himself off, gripping Cerise impossibly tighter.
Cerise could feel the warm wetness of his tears soaking her ripped shirt.
"Mr. Rogers, you're crying," she said in numb amazement. "Don't, please--I'm okay, I--"
Cerise stumbled, vertigo hitting her in waves--but Steve steadied her in an instant.
Everything was a dull blur of color after that--she didn't know whether she'd been carried inside the Quinjet or had walked on her own.
Cerise vaguely registered the rough hum of Tony's voice--perhaps even recognized Natasha's smooth alto--
But all she was aware of was being encompassed in Steve's embrace--it was the only thing tethering her in place.
Cerise would never be able to explain it to anyone else--in fact, she barely understood it herself--
That of all the places that confined, it was the circle of his arms that set her free.
Despite herself, despite the fact that she didn't want him to let go--to ever let go--Cerise eventually spoke up.
"Mr. Rogers, I'm getting blood on your suit. I'm fine--you can let go."
"Fuck the suit," Steve said thickly--Cerise could feel the shudders running through his body as he sobbed, staining her shirt even further-- the ends of his hair tickling her collarbone. "Please just--please just let me hold you for a while."
Somehow, Cerise still managed to flush.
"I'm so sorry," Steve murmured into the slope of her shoulder. "Cerise, I--"
But his words were dwindling away from Cerise's ears--
And she finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
Cerise would never know it--but Steve held her the whole way home.

~~~

Cerise's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the harsh white glare of the lighted room.
Steve's anxious face was the first thing that swam into focus for Cerise--hovering worriedly right next to her bedside.
She could tell just from the sharp smell of antiseptic that clung to the air that she'd been put in the med bay of the compound.
"Hey," Steve said softly once he saw she was awake. "How are you feeling?"
"I--I don't know," Cerise furrowed her brow uncertainly. "My head is fuzzy and I feel weak, it hurts to talk--"
"They had to give you a blood transfusion," Steve explained quietly. "You lost a lot of blood--but there's no lasting damage. You're going to be fine--and you don't have to talk."
"Jeremy said you were--you were screaming for a long time," Steve said tightly, and Cerise looked down in alarm as his hands shook at his sides.
He understood the mute question in her eyes as she looked at him.
"Jeremy's fine," Steve assured her. "Natasha's taken him back to his apartment--he'll be given every protection S.H.I.E.L.D can extend. You don't need to worry about him--he's safe. And he told us everything that happened--so you don't have to say anything. You can rest."
Cerise lowered her gaze from Steve's.
"Aren't you going to yell at me?" She asked dully.
"No."
Cerise's head shot up in surprise at his unexpected reply.
"This is on me," Steve admitted bitterly. "If I hadn't shut you out--if I hadn't left you alone, then maybe when you got that video you would have still trusted me enough to tell me the minute it happened--instead I made you feel like you had no other option but to try and save Jeremy alone."
There was a suspicious sheen coating Cerise's green eyes as she stared at him.
The words hung in the air, and then--
"So why did you?"
The question was finally out--it had been eating at Cerise since the day he'd turned away from her--gnawing away at her peace of mind.
And now she had asked him--and the hurt in her voice cut Steve to the core.
"Because I was terrified, sweetheart," Steve exhaled--and with it, let out everything he had been hiding. "Watching you jump off that ledge for me--it was the worst thing I've ever seen. Worse than the war--worse than Bucky falling off that train. I--it--I never wanted to see it again--to see you like that again. And I thought--I thought if I let you get any closer to me--if I was selfish and didn't keep myself away from you--"
He tripped over his sentences, the syllables sitting unwieldy on his tongue.
Cerise could see the crystals of salt glittering on the fringes of Steve's lashes as he pleaded for her understanding.
"I thought," he began again. "I thought I would be putting you in danger every second of every day if I let things continue the way they were. The mere idea of you dying--the idea of you dying because you thought my life was worth more than yours--it was inconceivable. I couldn't bear it--and I was so consumed by the nightmare of that possibility that I forgot the honor you did me in making that choice. How highly you must have thought of me to make it, how much you must have cared--and I never even thanked you. I never realized that had it been me in your place, I would have jumped for you in a heartbeat. So how could I blame you for doing something I would have willingly done--how could I blame you for being this beautiful, brave, brilliant person who'd put their life on the line at a moment's notice for someone they cared about?"
"There's no place on this earth I could be happy if you weren't somewhere in it too," he said slowly, as if he were dredging up the words from somewhere deep, deep within.
"So I thought if I stayed away from you--if I put distance between us--I could keep you safe."
"I just wanted to keep you safe," Steve smiled sadly at her. "All I ever wanted to do was protect you. And I could see what my decision was doing to you--but it wasn't until I nearly lost you, again, that I realized protecting someone meant so much more than just safeguarding their body from harm--it meant never hurting them, in any way. And I hurt you--I hurt you horribly."
"I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am," Steve continued shamefacedly.
"But you have to believe me," he begged, wrapping his fingers around Cerise's hand. "It killed me to do it--it killed me to stay away from you. Seeing you every day--and not being able to touch you, or talk to you--I was dying by degrees the longer it went on. I was miserable--I mean it."
Cerise's eyes were wide with shock as she gazed at Steve.
"T-that's why you did this?" She stammered incoherently. "I thought I offended you--I thought you hated me, last night you said I was trying to take Peggy's place--"
"No!" Steve exclaimed, horrified. "God, no. None of that was true. How could I hate you? You're--you're--"
He reached forward and cradled Cerise's face between his hands, tenderly thumbing across the swell of her cheeks.
"You're not Peggy," Steve said softly. "You will never be Peggy--but you have no need to be. You have your own place in my life--and it is precious to me. You are precious to me--and I am so utterly sorry I let you doubt that. You should have never had to question your importance in my life for even a second--because you matter the most to me."
"The most," he insisted fiercely--and stretched to press his lips to her forehead in the gentlest of kisses. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to tell you."
A dark pink stain spread over Cerise's face.
"All this time, I thought you didn't want me around anymore," she said dazedly, not quite daring to believe it.
"I always want you," Steve said immediately--and then froze at his own admission.
"I'm so sorry," he said with downcast eyes. "I'm more sorry than I can ever put into words--can you forgive me, Cerise?"
Cerise opened her mouth--and then paused.
It was the first time she'd felt fully warm in days--she had longed for this moment--imagined it countless times--
But now that it was here--
Cerise was afraid of her own doubts.
"I forgive you," she said, measuring out every word. "There was never any question of that. But how do I know you won't leave me again? You can't ask me to promise you not to shut you out--and then do it to me yourself a week later--I--I can't go through this a second time, I--"
"You won't," Steve promised. "I swear you won't. I know what I did--and I don't expect you to trust me all over again like nothing ever happened. I'm going to earn it back."
He squeezed her hand tightly.
"I choose you," Steve told her, voice strained with the effort of trying to keep it steady. "And I'm going to keep choosing you, over and over again, until you truly believe it's you that I want. Because I do--and I'm going to prove it to you. No matter how long it takes."
There was a lump in Cerise's throat as the weight of his words settled around her shoulders, with the comfort of a blanket.
In answer, she leapt across the bed and flung her arms around him--this man she loved, body and soul and heart combined.
The I love you was on the tip of her tongue--but not yet.
She would tell him someday--just not this one.
"I missed you, Mr. Rogers," she hid her face against his chest, feeling its reassuring rise and fall under her cheek.
Steve chuckled exhaustedly, worn out by relief.
"Steve, please," he wound his arms around her. "It's only ever Steve with you--I don't want any more distance between us."
Cerise could feel the heat of his lips ghosting over her hair.
"I missed you too, sweetheart."

~~~

Steve still hadn't let go of her hand--it was lost in between the expansive warmth of his large ones.
But Cerise didn't mind.
She had him back--and she was overjoyed--but the specter of the attack loomed large and threatening around the edges of her consciousness.
Steve, as always, seemed to know what she was thinking as soon it crossed her mind.
"No one is going to hurt you ever again," Steve vowed. "I am--I am so incredibly lucky that I got you back--that Tony found you in time. It was a gift--and I'm never going to take it for granted. You're safe now, sweetheart--I'll never let anything happen to you again. None of us will--I promise you."
Cerise smiled wanly at him.
"Although it would certainly help if you let us know of any threats made in the future at the time they happen," Steve added wryly, but his eyes were too soft for there to be any bite to his words.
"Yes, I know, Steve," Cerise muttered, and then cringed as a new thought seized her. "Is Tony very angry with me?"
"Uh...probably," he admitted, unable to help his amusement as Cerise wilted visibly. "It's only because he cares about you--he really does. Very much. This entire month he's been shouting at me--trying to get me to talk to you. Tony's been worried about you for a long time--and this probably pushed him over the edge."
Cerise's mouth popped open in surprise--moisture welling up in her eyes.
He had been looking out for her--all this time, without her knowing--Tony had been protecting her as best he could.
She jumped in alarm as the door banged open--and an irate Tony entered in high dudgeon.
"That Jeremy," he fumed at Steve. "Is an asshole. Never seen anyone more selfish, and that's saying something. The fuck was the kid doing dating someone like that?"
"And you ," Tony rounded on Cerise--and she shrank back in fear. "Don't. Fucking. Ever. Do. That. To. Me. Again."
"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN FUCKING KILLED, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU--"
Tony spluttered to a stop as Cerise sprang off the bed and wrapped her arms around him.
"What the fuck?" He said eloquently. "Is this some new strategy of yours to get me to stop yelling at you?"
"No," Cerise shook her head, smiling. "I just want to thank you. For coming to save me--for--for everything."
"Yeah--well--whatever," Tony said gruffly, but he hugged her back all the same. "You're still not off the hook."
"So...you and Jeremy...were together?" Steve's tone was carefully neutral--too studied to be authentically indifferent.
Cerise turned pink.
"Yeah, but it was over years ago," she said, laughing nervously. "I don't feel that way about him anymore."
"Not that it means I don't care about him," she tacked on hurriedly. "I'm just not in love with him--I mean, you don't want to hear this--I just--it's just--"
"Ugh," Tony rolled his eyes in disgust. "It's like being around children. Grow a pair, the two of you!"
Cerise smiled fondly as the two of them bickered--good-naturedly enduring Natasha's admonitions and embraces in equal part as she came in--even Thor was poking his head around the corner to enquire after her.
Even with the shadow of the two cloaked assailants heavy against the backdrop of her brain--an incandescent glow seemed to be lighting Cerise from within.
For the first time in forever--she had a family.

Chapter Text

What Fell From Your Heart

Steve smiled as Cerise's voice lilted out into the hall--lush and potent, like blackcurrant wine to his senses.
The habit had become as old and familiar to him as home--and now there was no bitterness attached to it--Steve knew Cerise was waiting on the other end of that door--she was within his reach. He could go to her whenever he wanted.
I took the stars from our eyes, and made a map
And somehow I knew we could find our way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
And I knew that I belonged with you...
He froze in alarm as Cerise's voice cut off without warning, the door pushing outward to reveal Cerise--
And Steve couldn't move fast enough--she still found him on the ground--nearly even tripped over his folded legs.
"Steve?" Cerise peered at him in bewilderment. "It's the middle of the night. Why are you sitting on the floor...outside my room?"
"Uh," Steve colored darkly, embarrassment flaming hot against his cheeks. "It's just--I'm just--"
"I like hearing you sing," he eventually admitted, giving up on the idea that he could conceal it from her. "So I.... sit outside your door to listen to you. And you always sing at night. I'm sorry, I won't do it anymore, I'll go--"
Cerise stared at him in shock.
"How often do you do this?" She asked slowly.
"... Every night," Steve said grudgingly as he watched Cerise's face redden at his words, wishing he were anywhere else but in front of her.
"I--It started the first month or so after you came here," he continued, feeling like he owed her the whole truth, now that the secret had come out. "But when we--when I stopped talking to you, it was all I had."
"It was the one way I could connect with you that whole time," Steve said softly, not quite able to meet Cerise's gaze. "The only way I could still feel close to you--still feel like I could share in some part of your life, even though I'd pulled myself out of it."
Hesitantly, Cerise reached forward and brushed the tips of her fingers against Steve's cheek.
"If I'd known it would hurt you this much to be away from me," Cerise whispered, eyes limpid and clear like seafoam spray. "I would never have let you go, Steve."
"I believe you," Steve laughed ruefully. "I know I was an idiot."
"And you don't have to wait out here every night," Cerise gently took his hand in her own.
"You can just come in," she shyly smiled up at him. "I don't--I don't mind you hearing me sing."

~~~

"Run it back for me one more time, Tony," Steve tapped his fingers on the glass-topped table. "What do we know so far about them?"
"We know jack shit," Tony sniped. "All we have to go on is the assumption that the alien attacks in New York so far are connected to the two brothers who abducted Cerise--we know for sure that they control at least some of the aliens we've seen. We don't know who they are, why they want Cerise, we don't even know what they look like, and--"
He broke off to glare at Cerise.
"Are you seriously eating candy right now?" He demanded.
"If we're going to be discussing my torture at length, I might as well have my comfort food," Cerise shrugged, lazily swiping her tongue across a lollipop.
Tony's eye twitched.
"And your comfort food is candy," he deadpanned.
"Yep," Cerise said innocently.
Steve said nothing--his mouth was too dry to utter a word, a glazed cast to his eyes as he stared at Cerise's now brightly-stained lips, puckered around the sweet.
"Steve," Cerise blinked at him in confusion. "Do you want me to get you one of these? You've kinda been....watching me eat mine for the past five minutes...."
"Oh, believe me," Natasha snickered. "It's not the lollipop he wants."
Steve glowered, kicking the amused spy covertly under the table.
She squawked in protest, opening her mouth to say--
"You know what, you can get me one," Steve told Cerise hastily in a half-strangled voice as she continued to industriously lick the candy.
"Sure," Cerise smiled at him, already out of her seat.
Steve sank back into his chair in relief as she left--the meaning of Natasha's sentence fortunately lost on her.
"Tony picked up the scissors lying on the table with a theatrical flourish, snipping at the empty space between Steve and the retreating figure of Cerise.
Steve eyed him oddly.
"What are you doing?" He warily enquired.
"Oh, nothing much," Tony replied airily. "Just trying to cut the sexual tension in the air from the two of you. Would be a lot easier, of course, if you just went to Cerise and admitted that you're absolutely whipped for her every move. Could save us all a lot of trouble--and the forced witnessing of this awkward dance you're doing around each other."
"I'm not--there's not--" Steve spluttered indignantly. "There isn't any sexual tension!"
"Rogers, please," Natasha rolled her eyes. "You were practically drooling when she was eating that candy. At least admit that you find her attractive."
"Of course I find her attractive, I have eyes!" Steve roared in frustration. "She's beautiful and I know it--"
He cut himself off once he realized what he'd said.
"Just shut up," Steve said wearily at their twin smirks, red in the face. "Shut up, the both of you. It doesn't mean anything."
Tony groaned.
“Just admit it, old man,” he said tiredly. “The kid has you wrapped around her little finger.”
“No she doesn’t,” Steve said, affronted.
Tony leveled him with an unimpressed stare.
“Steve, are you kidding me right now? You would literally do anything she asked of you. Fuck’s sake, if she asked you to dye your hair bubblegum pink because it'd make her happy you’d do it.”
Steve scowled at him.
“I wouldn’t.”
“Bullshit, Rogers," Tony retorted at once. "You’re probably considering if you would this very moment.”
“I’m not,” Steve snapped mulishly.
(He was.)
"You're not what?" Cerise asked curiously as she came up behind Steve, handing him a pink-wrapped sweet.
"Nothing," Steve said hurriedly as he nodded his thanks. "It's not important, sweetheart."
As always, cherry tinged Cerise's face as the endearment slipped from Steve's lips.
Tony gaped between the two of them.
"How the fuck can two people be so dumb?" He asked Natasha.
"Don't ask me," she sighed heavily. "Let it be for now. Nothing's gonna change in a day."
Tony's response was cut off as Thor entered the room, his grave face instantly charging the air with tension.
"I have not been able to locate either my brother or the creatures," Thor rumbled solemnly. "I do not think they are in New York any longer--if it is to be believed that my brother were actually here in the first place."
The Asgardian crossed his arms.
"It is still my opinion that Loki remains unconnected to this," Thor insisted obstinately. "He has no cause with human girls."
"We don't even know their names," Tony cursed, dismissing Thor's assessment. "How are we supposed to look for them if we don't even have that much info?"
"Well, I know one," Cerise said tentatively.
"It's Jh-Jhago," she said, stuttering around the strange sound. "The shorter one."
Thor stiffened instantly.
"I have not heard that name in many years," he said uneasily. "It bodes ill now for us all to hear it again."
"Thor, you know these creatures?" Steve demanded urgently, hands tightening into fists.
"In stories, once," Thor answered grimly. "All of Asgard knew of Quotho and his brother Jhago--the leaders of the race known as the Alfakin--cruel and twisted and power-hungry, constantly searching for a land worthy enough for their people to settle in."
"They roamed through the galaxy, wreaking havoc wherever they went," Thor continued. "And my people lived in fear, knowing we could be next at any moment. And then, forty years ago--they disappeared. And no one ever saw them again."
Cerise paled as the full impact of the Asgardian's words hit her.
Natasha voiced the question they were all thinking.
"What could they possibly want with Cerise?"
"My blood," Cerise said faintly. "They wanted my blood."

~~~

"Do you want red or white sauce?" Steve asked from over his shoulder, busying himself over the stove.
"Huh?" Cerise snapped out of her reverie, blinking rapidly. "Uh--white. White, if you don't mind."
"Sure," Steve agreed easily. "It's gonna take a while, though."
"No problem," Cerise couldn't help but smile as she looked at Steve--the scene before her was a perfectly ordinary one--nothing that hadn't happened hundreds of times in the months she had known the Avengers.
But it was exactly because it was so routine, so commonplace, that it brought tears to Cerise's eyes-- she'd thought she'd lost all opportunity to ever share those moments with Steve again--that she'd never get to share a meal with him--never get the warmth of those slices of normalcy she'd treasured so much with him.
Cerise had believed she'd lost it all--but it had been there all along--just a little out of reach.
She had him back.
Cerise couldn't sit still with the feeling anymore--it was overwhelming--
She had to express it in some tangible way.
There was something in the sense of her skin against his that conveyed more of the barest parts of her self than words ever could.
Steve started in surprise as he felt Cerise's arms loop around his waist, her head nestled between his shoulder-blades.
"What was that for?" Steve asked, though the way his hands instantly moved to cover hers--it was almost instinctual.
"I guess I'm just really glad I have you back, Steve," he felt rather than heard her murmur into the light cotton of his shirt.
He turned in the circle of Cerise's arms, and brushed her hair away from her face.
"I'm never leaving you again," Steve promised, and, on a whim--kissed her temple.
"I--oh," Cerise breathed, flushing a virulent shade of scarlet.
Steve backed away from her at once.
"The, uh, the pasta's ready," he said awkwardly. "I'm just going to set the table."
Cerise nodded weakly, sinking down onto the couch to subtly calm her racing heartbeat.
How did he manage to make her so tongue-tied?
"How are you feeling?" Steve enquired once he'd set down the places. "You don't talk about it much, but I know all of this can't have been easy."
"They--they tortured you," he forced out through gritted teeth. "And you--"
"And I'm scared," Cerise admitted slowly. "I'm scared they're going to come back, and I'm scared that I won't be strong enough to fight them off, and I--"
I'm terrified that I won't be able to stay alive long enough to tell you I'm in love with you, she wanted to say.
But how could she?
Steve crouched down to her level, the food forgotten in a mere second.
"Hey," he cupped Cerise's face between his hands, turquoise eyes intent on hers.
"You are brave, and you are kind, and you are strong--yes you are," Steve insisted at the incredulous look Cerise shot him. "You manage to protect the people you care about no matter what. You're a hero, Cerise--and you don't need a costume or a fancy name for that--you're the biggest hero I know."
"And you aren't alone anymore," Steve reminded her gently. "You have Tony, and Natasha, and Thor, even Clint--and you have me."
"You have me now and forever," Steve vowed. "I'm with you every step of the way. I'm with you--"
The ghost of Bucky Barnes seemed to dance in mid-air in front of Steve as he uttered his next words, with a jaunty twist of his hips and his well-worn, sardonic salute.
"I'm with you till the end of the line."

Chapter Text

Ocean Eyes

"Uh, Steve?" Cerise chewed her lip nervously--she'd been mustering up the courage to talk to him ever since she'd entered the room.
"Hmm?" He smiled at her absently, hand skimming over the surface of his sketchpad.
Cerise took in a deep breath.
It was now or never.
"Steve," she said again. "It's about the--the time I jumped."
She winced inwardly as Steve's face sobered at once--Cerise hated to remind him of it--knew the guilt and the regret was still eating him alive.
But it had to be said.
"You lost your compass--the one with Ms. Carter in it-- sometime in that fight, didn't you?" Cerise forced herself to ask. "I thought I saw it fall--and I'm sorry. You lost it because of me, and I know how important it was to you--how much it meant."
There was nothing but open sincerity in her eyes as she looked at him.
"I'm really sorry Steve--I mean it."
The pencil dropped from Steve's numb fingers--how had she thought to remember, after all this while?
Even in the midst of the maelstrom of Cerise's terror at her own situation (and Steve knew it was there, he could see it in the way her hands trembled reaching for something as simple as a glass of water--in the brittle green glassiness of her eyes)--she had thought of him.
Worried for him.
With each day that passed, Cerise seemed to snatch a little more of Steve's breath away.
He'd pulled her into his arms before the impulse had even registered in his mind.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Steve mumbled into the delicate curve of her shoulder. "Just the fact that you remembered--that you cared--it's enough for me. You're okay--you're safe. That's all that matters."
Hesitantly, Cerise wrapped her arms around him.
"I don't know how I went this long without talking to you," Cerise admitted softly. "It felt like forever."
"Trust me, sweetheart," Steve let out a weak chuckle. "I was just as miserable."
Cerise was transfixed by the ocean of his eyes at that moment--at the way he was looking at her.
Like she was the only thing that mattered.
"I--I need you with me," Steve seemed reluctant to release her. "I think I always have--and I'm sorry I ever let you feel any different."
What Cerise would have said just then--if she would have finally told him--
She would never know, as within the next minute Tony flung the door to their living room wide open.
"Break it up, lovebirds," he said briskly as he came in. "We've got work to do."
"Or," he added tetchily. "If you're just going to be grabbing at each other every chance you get, you might as well make it official right? Seems reasonable, don'cha think?"
"Shut up, Tony," Cerise and Steve said in unison, red in the face.
Tony threw up his hands in frustration.
"God, I give up."
"Anyway," he addressed Cerise with a return to seriousness. "I got news for you, kid. Those alien brothers wanted your blood--and there has to be a reason for it. My guess is it's got something to do with your powers--and it wouldn't be a bad idea to analyze your blood to see if we can get any answers."
"Okay," Cerise nodded cautiously. "I guess that makes sense. When do I give you a sample?"
"Oh, I'm not gonna be the one analyzing it," Tony replied, making Steve stiffen in surprise. "I've called Banner--he'll be here in a few hours. He's the only person I know besides Cap who has mutations in his blood--and Steve isn't a scientist, so he won't be able to help here."
"No," Steve's mouth tightened. "Banner can't be around her. It's too dangerous."
"He hasn't had an episode in over a year, Steve," Tony sighed heavily. "I'm here. You're here. She'll be fine--Bruce is the only man who stands a chance at figuring this out. We need him."
Steve crossed his arms stubbornly, but offered no argument.
"So why don't you chill out," Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And continue to hover over her like the overprotective boyfriend you are--or at least, you're acting like."
Steve spluttered indignantly.
"I'm not--we're not--"
Tony ignored him.
"Um," Cerise eyed the two of them warily. "So if I have a little time to kill before Mr. Banner comes, I'm going to head out, okay? I won't be too long."
"Sure," Tony said offhandedly as he left, swinging the door shut. "Have fun, kid."
"I'll come with you," Steve said, immediately getting to his feet.
"No!" Cerise instantly refused, something a little secretive in the cast of her eyes just then. "I want to go alone--it's a--a personal thing."
Steve shook his head violently.
"If something happens to you--" Steve choked. "If--if you don't come back because I wasn't there to protect you--"
"Nothing's going to happen," Cerise said gently, and set her hand against his cheek. "And I can protect myself."
"I know you're scared, mi sol ," Cerise could feel the heat of his skin radiating against her palm. "So am I. I'm scared all the time--but if we let it win, there's no point, Steve. Those creatures coming back won't even matter--because we'd be held captive by our fear every day, whether or not they attack us again."
Cerise stroked his face with fingers light as gossamer.
"I love being with you, Steve. I love spending time with you--but we can't be around each other all the time--you can't protect me forever. At some point, you have to let me go."
She thumbed her hand against his smooth skin.
"You have to trust that I'll come back to you."
Steve's throat bobbed as he stared at her--and the fierce, fierce pride in his eyes as he met Cerise's gaze made her own throat grow tight with emotion.
"Go," Steve said jerkily, pressing his forehead against hers, their faces mere inches apart. "I'll--I'll be waiting."

~~~

Cerise placed the wrapped packet carefully in her dresser before she ran down to the lab.
She didn't want to keep Bruce Banner waiting.
Tony nodded at her as she came in, motioning between the man standing behind the table and herself.
"Bruce, Cerise. Cerise, Bruce."
Cerise had heard many stories about Bruce's destructive capability--but the man behind the monster was entirely unassuming.
Her first impression was of sad, kind eyes and a tired smile.
"It's nice to meet you, Cerise," Bruce extended his hand. "Tony's told me a lot about you."
She smiled shyly at him.
"Thanks for agreeing to help us out, Mr. Banner," Cerise shook his hand. "I've heard a lot about you too."
"Well, that can't have been good," Bruce rubbed at his black curls ruefully. "I must say though, it's great finally meeting another person with abnormalities in their system."
"She's not abnormal," Steve snapped at him in a trice.
"Settle down there, old man," Tony patted his tensed shoulder. "Don't want to bump up that blood pressure."
Steve growled incoherently, but elected to ignore Tony--choosing instead to watch with anxious eyes as Bruce took Cerise's blood sample.
The whirring of the machine Bruce had brought in was the only sound in the room.
Time seemed to stretch on interminably--
And then Bruce frowned.
"This....I can't explain this," he said, sounding unnerved.
"What is it?" Tony demanded.
"The blood...it's coagulating," Bruce answered slowly. "It's collecting in on itself--thickening every time I try and analyze it. It's like--it's like it knows I'm trying to find it out---I think it's trying to stop it. It's---responding."
The implication of his words hit Cerise like a stone to the face--she paled, and without a word--ran from the room.

~~~

"Cerise!" Steve raced after her, long strides easily allowing him to block her route ahead. "Sweetheart! Wait."
"There's no point," Cerise said bitterly, eyes wide and tortured, darkened almost to black. "Mr. Banner was right--I'm abnormal. I'm unnatural."
The memory of Jeremy flashed across her mind, knife-sharp and just as cutting.
"I'm--I'm a freak," she said faintly.
" No ," Steve's tone was vehement, in direct contrast with the gentleness of his fingers as he looped them around Cerise's wrist. "Don't you dare say that again. You're you--and it's all you need to be--because you are good. You are good to your core--"
He squeezed her hand tightly.
"You have the biggest heart of anyone I know--you're more human than the rest of us put together, sweetheart. You belong here, with us. With me."
Cerise's eyes were brimming over with tears as she looked at Steve's open, vulnerable face.
"We're going to get through this together," Steve promised. "I'm with you. Always."

~~~

Steve hid his smile as he saw Cerise fight to keep her eyes open.
His suggestion of watching a movie together had just been a pretext to ensure she didn't withdraw into herself alone--let her thoughts fester.
But Steve would have been content to quietly watch Cerise's vividly mobile face change with each scene of the movie for the entire day--watch how the strained lines of her face gradually loosened into peacefulness--how he could bask forever in the brilliance of her melted-honey smile.
By the time the credits rolled, Steve couldn't recall a single thing that had taken place on the screen-- but he had memorized the slightest fluttering of Cerise's slim hand.
Cerise's head was pillowed on his thigh--and almost without meaning to, Steve had begun methodically threading his fingers through her satin-smooth hair.
It had lulled her to sleep--and as Cerise's breathing gradually evened out, Steve stretched his free hand forward, unable to resist the temptation--
And caressed the corner of Cerise's cherry-tinted lips with his thumb.
They were warm and almost unbearably soft against his fingers.
The contact seemed almost to burn.
"I wish I knew how to tell you what you mean to me," Steve whispered softly, letting his hand linger a second longer. "I wish I knew how to understand it myself."

Chapter Text

Yuanfen

Steve anxiously waited for Cerise to return--clutching the tiny box tightly enough that it cut grooves into his hands.
She'd been leaving the compound by herself quite often in the last two weeks--and it terrified Steve to see her go out every time, alone and unprotected--
But Cerise deserved her space and her freedom--
So Steve wouldn't interfere, even if it killed him to wait for her, not knowing if she would return to him--
But she always did.
Steve would never stop being afraid for her--but he had to move past the fear.
They both did.
She drew closer to him by the day--but Steve could still feel the hesitancy in her--the uncertainty with which Cerise held on to his hands--as though she were frightened he would pull them away.
It hurt Steve--but he knew he had no one to blame but himself for it.
Somewhere deep down, Steve knew he would never be free of the guilt---but it wasn't important.
He could learn to live with it.
What was necessary was letting Cerise know that she was all that mattered to him--that there was nothing that could, or would, get between them ever again.
Steve needed for her to believe that she was precious to him--that he would never leave.
Because it was the only truth Steve meant to uphold.
To say Cerise meant the world to him couldn't quite explain it--she was his world.
It didn't matter to Steve if he was living in a universe indifferent to everything but its own trajectory--she was the center of his.
And he had to let her know.
Which led him to the box cutting into his curled fingers.
Steve had already determined he would give it to her days ago--
He just hadn't been able to marshal up the courage to do it yet.
But it would be today.
It would.
Steve stiffened as he recognized Cerise's pattering footsteps tap their way into the living room--taking in a steadying breath.
"Cerise?" He called cautiously. "Can you come in here a sec, sweetheart? I, uh--I need to tell you something."
She poked her head around the door curiously.
"Hey, Steve. What's up?"
"Uh," Steve panicked--the box suddenly growing impossibly heavy in his grip. "I--I, uh---"
"I was wondering why you never call me Cap," he said instead--and then wanted to kick himself for his idiocy.
Cerise eyed Steve strangely.
"That's what you wanted to talk about?"
"....Yes," he said grudgingly, inwardly cursing himself for the situation he'd landed himself in.
"Um," she bit her lip, and Steve averted his gaze as the blood rushed to her rosebud mouth at the pressure. "Well--"
Cerise seemed to be debating whether to tell him.
Steve would remember what she said next for the rest of his life.
"It's because I don't need to see you as Captain America to think of you as a hero, mi sol ," she answered softly, looking up at him from under sooty lashes. "You've always been Steve to me--and that's all you ever need to be. It isn't your strength or your shield that makes you a hero, Steve--it's your heart."
He was staring at her, wide-eyed with shock.
"And your heart has such a capacity to listen and to love," Cerise continued resolutely, as if she were determined to get all the words out, once and for all. "To protect and defend and stand up for what's right, no matter the cost. That's what makes you special--not the serum. It's what saved me, in all the time that I've known you--so never forget it."
She lapsed into silence, blushing furiously.
Steve's jaw had become slack--how had she continued to think of him with so much kindness after all he had done?
He'd only been stalling, trying to give himself time to muster up enough bravery to give what was in the box to her--and she had--
She had--
It finally dawned on Steve--and the realization wasn't jarring or sharp in any way--it settled on him with the same reassurance as warm water slipping over his skin after a long day's work.
He loved her.
In retrospect, Steve didn't understand how it had taken him so long to understand--he'd been in love with her all along.
Now that he knew--it seemed as much of an undisputed truth as the earth revolving around the sun.
Steve almost kissed her right then--he'd already captured her face with one palm--but at the very last moment he faltered--angled his face so that his lips landed against her cotton-soft cheek instead.
He let the touch of his mouth linger.
"You're unbelievable," Steve said hoarsely, finally drawing back. "Every time I think I'm missing a piece of me, you give it right back."
"It's just the truth," Cerise smiled shyly at him.
Steve shook out the thin chain from the box.
"If you see those things in me," he said, still shaken by the impact of his epiphany. "It's because you inspire them. You bring out the best in me--and I want you to have this. This is what I was trying to give you when you came in."
He held out the necklace to her, the green stone glowing subtly at the end of the glittering gold chain.
"This belonged to my mother," Steve explained as Cerise looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. "We were always poor--this was the only precious thing she owned, and she gave it to me before she died."
"She told me I should only give it to the woman who truly made me a better person," Steve added quietly. "And you do. You make me want to be a better man every day-- because I want to make you proud of me. The only reason I believe there's goodness in the world is because you're in it."
"I'm already proud of you," Cerise said, tasting the tears lining the insides of her throat. "You--you'd really give this to me , of all people?"
"You're the only one I'd give it to, sweetheart," Steve said firmly.
Cerise's eyes were gleaming like beech leaves shot through with sunlight as she looked at Steve.
"Help me put it on, please," she said, the widest smile Steve had ever seen on her stretching across her lips.
He gently brushed the midnight waterfall of her hair away from her neck--goosebumps raising on the surface of her skin as his hand brushed against it--
And fastened the necklace until it was nestled into the hollow of her throat.
Steve stepped back to look at her--and found himself short of breath.
"You look beautiful," he told Cerise faintly--
And abruptly left the room.

~~~

Cerise smiled gently as she stroked the surface of the pendant--it was like Steve had given her a little piece of himself--trusted her with it entirely.
Sleep came to her more easily that night than it had in months--wafting Cerise into a deep, dreamless unconsciousness.
The hours passed seamlessly--until Cerise's eyes flew open with the sensation that something was amiss.
She found Steve bent over her bed, white-knuckled fists biting into its wooden edges--a slight sheen of sweat coating his face.
"Steve?" She murmured, disoriented. "What's wrong?"
Steve breathed in great, harsh pants--the words lodging themselves against the roof of his mouth--refusing to come out.
How could he tell Cerise the nightmares of her dying--of seeing both his best friend and his best love fall away from him into the freezing, unforgiving plains--had finally become too much for him?
"I--" he choked, heart fit to burst in his chest. "I--"
'S'okay," Cerise slurred drowsily, drawing him down onto the bed with her, pulling him flush against the lines of her body. "C'mere. I got you."
Steve pressed his face against the curve of her collarbone--
And found himself able to breathe again.

Chapter Text

Love Will Keep Us Alive

Cerise's eyes fluttered open as the shafts of buttery sunlight fell against her face.
She yawned, attempting to stretch--and found herself enveloped in Steve's embrace--it was still strong, even in his sleep.
Cerise could feel the strands of his hair brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck--
And the half-hazy memories of the previous night came flooding back to her.
Cerise lay still--tried not to move so much as a muscle--
She didn't want the moment to end--wanted to hold on to the feeling of Steve's skin pressing against hers for as long as possible.
But he was a soldier--trained to respond to the slightest of movements.
Steve woke up at once, the blue of his eyes soft and subdued in the morning light as he gazed at Cerise.
"Morning, sweetheart," the throaty rasp of his voice sent the blood rushing straight to Cerise's cheeks.
"M-Morning," she squeaked in reply, face flaming.
The coldness that seeped into Cerise as Steve pulled away had nothing to do with the air rushing in where their bodies had been wrapped around each other.
Steve rolled off the bed with a certain reluctance that was not lost on Cerise--could it be?
Was there a possibility that he also--?
Cerise cut the thought short.
Hope was a beautiful thing--but it could wound just as much as it could heal.
She would not take that plunge--not just yet.
Instead Cerise attempted to divert her mind--but invariably, it found itself occupied with Steve again.
"You were upset last night," Cerise noted, and there was a newfound surety in her tone as she looked at Steve--as if she finally felt as though she had the right to ask something from him.
It didn't escape Steve's notice, and he smiled to himself.
"What happened?" She prodded.
"It doesn't matter," Steve bent down and patted her cheek. "You fixed it."
You always do, he added silently, but contented himself with a squeeze of Cerise's shoulder instead.
"I'll see you for training, alright?"
"Sure," Cerise nodded--and couldn't resist reaching up to smoothen out Steve's mussed hair.
He bore her touch easily--seemed to welcome it even, smiling at her softly before leaving the room.
Cerise's eyes followed him out the door--and then turned to the dresser where the small packet lay.
She had to give it to him--and soon.
But when would be the right time?
And then it hit her--
It was the month of July.
Steve's birthday was in four days.
Cerise was on her feet and running for Tony before the thought even registered fully.
"Tony!" Cerise raced down the stairs, ignoring his drowsy grumbling, slumped over as he was over his coffee mug. "Tony, listen!"
"It's too early in the morning for this energy, kid," he groaned. "Leave me alone with my coffee. This is quiet time."
She ignored him, pulling at his arm.
"Tony, I know we don't do anything on the 4th, but can we have a party, please?" Cerise asked pleadingly. "It's Steve's birthday and I want to make sure he has a good one. I don't even know the last time he's had it celebrated."
"Jeez, it's his birthday?" Tony raised a wry eyebrow. "Isn't he decrepit enough already?"
Cerise rolled her eyes, tapping her foot expectantly.
"Sure, Bambi," Tony sighed, agreeing far faster than Cerise had imagined him to. "You can have a party. We could use one around here, as a matter of fact."
Tony grunted as Cerise threw her arms around him.
"Thank you, Tony!" She beamed. "I'll take care of everyth--"
"Nuh uh," Tony said testily, though not without patting her on the back. "Parties are my thing, Bambi. You stay out of my territory--just carry on arranging whatever present you've planned for him."
Cerise sputtered in response.
"What--no--why would you think--"
"Oh, save it," Tony crossed his arms. "You think I don't know why you mysteriously leave the compound every week by yourself, driving poor old Cap mad with worry? One of these days he's going to wear a hole in the carpet waiting for you."
"I actually like that carpet," he said meditatively, disregarding Cerise's squawks of protest. "I wonder if Steve would calm down if he knew you were only going alone for his sake."
"Now run along, kid," Tony poked her in the back. "I have a party to plan."
"Thank you," Cerise said earnestly. "Really. I know you and Steve don't always get along."
"As long as he makes you happy," Tony shrugged. "It's fine with me. He's a good man. I guess."
"I care more about his happiness," Cerise answered quietly, a gentle smile turning her lips upward.
"You always have," Tony muttered to himself, watching her leave with somber eyes. "You've never not put him first."
"That's what I'm worried about."

~~~

July 3rd, 11:30 PM

"Where are we going and why are we going there?" Steve asked testily, as he was dragged to the car by an unrelenting Tony.
"Shut up and let me drive," Tony grumbled. "It's bad enough she's making me do this. Just be quiet."
"Who's making you do what?" Steve demanded anyway.
A horrible thought seized Steve.
"Has something happened to Cerise? Tony, is something wrong with her, you have to tell me--"
"Relax before your blood pressure goes up, old man," Tony sighed. "The kid is fine. You'll see her soon. Just--just sit tight."
"Fine," Steve crossed his arms sullenly. "Are you at least going to tell me why you've forced me into these fancy clothes?"
Tony glared at him out of the corner of his eye.
"It's literally just a blue dress shirt and pants, Rogers."
"It's uncomfortable," Steve grumbled.
"You'll thank me for it later," Tony muttered to himself as he finally pulled the car over.
"Isn't this one of your private apartments?" Steve peered out in confusion.
"Usually for my special guests," Tony winked. "But we're only going to be on the ground floor. C'mon."
"Wha--" Steve protested as Tony pulled him inside--and was instantly engulfed in a riot of laughter and happy voices.
Natasha was smirking at him in her familiar, laconic manner, still clad in black--directly contrasting with the bright, warm light of the room, settling its glow over Steve.
He could see all his colleagues from S.H.I.E.L.D spread around the room, all smiling at him with a secretive glint in their eye--as if they knew something he didn't.
Even Clint was skulking awkwardly in the corner--grudgingly waving a hand at Steve.
But it was Cerise he immediately searched for--raked his eyes across the room--
And there she was.
She knocked the breath clean out from his lungs--the gold-green gleam of her eyes under the lamplight melding perfectly with the champagne shimmer of her bellflower-like dress.
The pink plush of her lips, driving Steve to distraction--
There was his necklace, glinting against the creamy expanse of her throat--it was always at her throat, these days--
Her hair, falling in loose, glossy curls down the graceful curve of her collarbones--
And down to her exposed breasts--swelling over the tight lacing of her gown.
Steve desperately strove to keep his gaze on her face--and at nothing (and nowhere) else as she came up to him.
He finally saw the buttercream cake in her hands--and understood.
"Hi," Cerise said shyly. "Happy bi--"
"You're beautiful," Steve said breathlessly--more in tones of wonderment to himself, rather than at her. "You--you look lovely."
Carnation pink bloomed across Cerise's cheeks anyway--
It was the prettiest blush Steve had ever seen.
"Today's your day for compliments," she whispered, drawing her arms around him. "You look amazing--the blue really brings out your eyes."
Silently, (and reluctantly) Steve thanked Tony in his head.
"Happy birthday, Steve."

~~~

Tony came up to Steve, idly sitting by the bar and tracing the dancing figures in the center of the room.
"You've been ogling her half the night," he said tiredly. "Will you please be a man and ask her to dance? Thor's killing her out there--look."
Steve was already looking--he hadn't been able to take his eyes away from her since the night began.
She seemed lit from within--incandescent even--
Or maybe it was just that Steve loved her and he could see it reflected in every line of her soft, supple figure.
At that moment however, Cerise was artfully hiding her winces as Thor trampled on her feet in his attempt to move to the music.
Steve diverted his attention to his surroundings--he was afraid that if he looked at her for too long--
The words would slip out from him right then and there.
The decorations were clean and simplistic--understated and elegant--
Exactly to his taste.
"Cerise tells me you planned this party," Steve said slowly. "Thank you, Tony. I really do appreciate it."
"Don't thank me," Tony shrugged. "This was all her idea. She barely let me handle this party either. Tried to manage it all herself--you make sure to thank her properly."
"I'm going to," Steve promised, smiling softly as the song ended at last and Cerise made her way to the bar.
He was barely conscious of Tony withdrawing when Cerise came up next to him, gulping down a glass of water.
"Hey," she said quietly once she'd finished.
"Hey," Steve answered, longing to wipe away the faint sheen of water on her lips. "Any chance you'll actually let me thank you for what you've done for me today?"
"Nope," Cerise grinned wryly. "It was nothing, really. It's the least you deserve."
"It's much more than I deserve," Steve corrected gently--and then summoned up his courage and offered his hand to Cerise.
"May I have this dance instead then?"
Surprise flickered in Cerise's eyes--and then a smile blossomed across her features.
She took Steve's hand, wrapping her fingers around his own.
He steered her past the other dancing couples to the center of the room--and the song changed, slow and syrup-sweet in the heavy air.
They swayed, so close that Cerise's eyelashes brushed across Steve's skin--he could feel the heat of her body radiating against his.
The music seemed to envelop them in their own little world--right there in the middle of the room.
I was standing
All alone against the world outside
You were searching
For a place to hide
The world is changing
Right before your eyes
Now I've found you
There's no more emptiness inside
Lost and lonely
Now you've given me the will to survive
When we're hungry, love will keep us alive....
Cerise could feel the slightly rough skin of Steve's cheek pressed into hers--
Could inhale the strangely alluring scent of him--all mandarin, leather and dark chocolate.
And even miles away from the compound--
Cerise was home.

~~~

There was a lull in the air--most of Steve's guests had left.
Tony and Thor were slumped over the bar, attempting to finish some sort of suicidal drinking game--or what appeared to be the looks of it.
Natasha and Clint were sprawled shoulder to shoulder on the futon--awake or asleep Steve couldn't tell.
And Cerise was wringing her hands nervously--
Steve was about to ask her what was wrong, but she'd already pulled him aside before he could.
"I was trying to find the right time to give this to you," Cerise began nervously. "I couldn't make up my mind. But this is as good a time as any."
With trembling fingers, she passed him a small, silk-wrapped box.
Numbly, Steve opened it--
And cradled his hands around an oval locket of beaten silver.
He blinked.
"You--"
"Open it," Cerise murmured.
Steve popped the clasp--and stared in disbelief.
Bucky and Peggy, side by side, smiled out at him.
There was a burning in Steve's throat as he raised his eyes to Cerise's.
"How did you--"
"I know no pictures of them are available anymore," she said gently. "But you remember that shop we saw Sergeant Barnes' photo in? I went there again and searched through the whole place--I found both their pictures. I had them modified. You see, I--"
She swallowed, and took Steve's hand between her small grip.
"When you lost that compass--I felt personally responsible," she admitted. "Whenever you needed strength you looked at that compass--and what was in it. And then you lost it--and I know Sergeant Barnes and Miss Carter were your best reminders of your strength--and your best happiness. I wanted you to have them with you always. So--"
Cerise's lips flicked upward.
"This is my present to you, Steve."
Steve choked, unable to summon any thought in his mind past the I love you I love you I love you flashing like a neon sign in his brain.
How had she thought so much for him--cared so much for him--
Amidst all the hell she'd been through?
After what he'd put her through?
How had he earned that from this girl--this beautiful, unselfish girl who'd given him her heart with both hands, no hesitation, no questions asked.
“Steve?” Cerise worried at her lip nervously. “Do you not like it, I can change it if you want—“
She broke off in alarm as she noticed the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.
“Steve, what’s wrong?"
The concerned buzz of the others’ whispers hummed in her ears, but she paid them no mind.
Cerise only had eyes for Steve.
He dashed an arm over his face hastily, clearing his throat.
“If--if you did this because you wanted me to have my best strength and my best happiness with me," Steve said thickly. "You—you forgot to put the most important photo in.”
Cerise panicked.
“W-what? Whose photo?” She stammered.
Steve's heart seized in his chest.
"Yours," Steve answered, surging forward to press his lips against the delicate lines of her own.

Chapter Text

To Be With You

The way it had been told to Cerise--
When love came, it would take her breath away--when mouth crashed against mouth and body pressed against body, it would be as if her lungs were robbed of function.
And perhaps that had been the case, in previous times. But right now--
Right now, the sharp corner of the wooden table was digging painfully into Cerise's hip, but she couldn't feel a thing.
She could only feel the gold threads of Steve's hair she was raking with her fingers--the taste of his mouth, tangerine sweet yet bitter as blackberry wine.
And it was like she was finally coming up for air.
It was as if Cerise had been holding her breath all her life--waiting--waiting for the slow burn of Steve's softly-chapped lips melding to the shape of her own--and now--
Now she could let go.
She could breathe.
Steve pulled away from her with a quiet gasp, and Cerise longed to envelop herself back into his arms--the few inches of distance between them felt like too much already.
"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do that," Steve leaned his forehead against Cerise's, her subtle scent suffusing his senses as he wound his arms around her.
"I think I do," Cerise smiled with almost unbearable sweetness, her eyes glowing like molten green glass as she looked at Steve. "You see, I've been wanting it even longer."
Steve's eyes, half-shut until then in the honeyed timelessness of the moment--blew wide open.
"You--"
"Alright, we're leaving," Tony slurred, staggering his way towards them with some amount of difficulty. "Thanks for the free show. It was nauseating."
Steve glared at him--he'd effectively interrupted his question.
And it had been an important one.
"Now you listen here," Tony raised a wavering finger at the soldier. "You better not up this mess, Rogers."
He paused, frowning.
"That doesn't sound quite right..."
Despite himself, Steve felt the corners of his lips twitch in amusement.
"How about you threaten me about this when you're actually sober?" Steve suggested dryly.
"I think I'm gonna do that," Tony emphatically nodded. "You--you wait. It's gonna be real good."
Steve rolled his eyes, wordlessly squeezing Cerise's hand as her cheeks pinked.
"About damn time," Natasha grumbled, clapping him on the back as she tugged Thor and Tony out of the room.
Cerise squirmed as Clint threw an irreverent wink her way before following after the spy.
She turned to Steve in the rapidly solidifying silence that had begun to permeate the now-deserted room, and opened her mouth--
But he'd already beaten her to it.
"I love you," Steve said in a rush, chest heaving--as if he felt like if he didn't say it now, he would never be able to again. "I do. More than anything. I think I was yours the minute I saw you singing in that bar--because I haven't felt like anyone else's since."
Cerise's eyes were sparkling brighter than the wine Steve had reluctantly sipped earlier--and the verdant texture of them created more bubbles of happiness within Steve's chest than any alcohol he'd ever had.
"I've been--I've been waiting to hear you say that for so long," she said shakily--Steve could feel her body trembling against his. "You don't know how long. I think--I think I've been waiting to hear you say that all my life."
Steve smiled, thumbing away the tears pricking at Cerise's eyelids.
"Let's go home, sweetheart."
Cerise's fingers tightened around his.
"You are my home, Steve," she whispered. "I've never fit in anywhere--I was always out of place. But I fit in your arms--I fit right, with you. I love you, Steve--it seems too little to say--but I do. I really do."
Cerise drew him down to her--
And kissed him under the lamplight.

~~~

"When did you know?" Steve murmured into the side of her neck (and felt her shudder in immediate response--but he would come back to that later)--as though he were afraid even the sound of his voice could break the spell of peace that had cocooned the two of them since the night had started--though it was almost over now, the sun just about to tiptoe over the edge of the translucently indigo sky.
Cerise hid her face in the groove of his shoulder--didn't want to see Steve lose that darling, eiderdown-soft gaze when she told him--the blue of his eyes as warm as the ocean on a summer day.
"Sweetheart?" He prompted, running a hand through her curled hair.
Cerise swallowed.
"It was before I jumped off," she said finally, the vibration of her lips against Steve's skin running through him like a current. "I knew then--I realized I could live with not being alive, as long as you made it out. I just--"
Cerise shrugged helplessly.
"I just knew."
She peeked up at him in the pause that followed--and found that the tenderness in his eyes remained just the same--albeit a little sobered by her admission.
"And I refused to talk to you for the next month after that," Steve replied ruefully. "I'm amazed you still feel the same after everything I did. I'm so-"
"Hey," Cerise covered his mouth with her hand--laughing when he instantly kissed it. "That's over. I felt even when we weren't talking that there had to be a reason--and now I know it. It's okay, really. We're good now."
"We're better than good," Steve said softly, pressing his cheek against hers. "Also--"
"Hmm?" Cerise wasn't paying attention, pressing butterfly kisses against his shoulder.
"You've been calling me something," Steve furrowed his brow. "Mi sol--I think? What does it mean?"
He blinked in surprise as Cerise's face turned scarlet.
"You're blushing," Steve stroked a thumb across her flaming cheek, a small smile beginning to play across his lips. "Now you definitely have to tell me."
"It's really nothing," Cerise hedged, but eventually couldn't deny Steve's questioning eyes. "Um--"
"The apartment I was staying at when you and Tony found me," she began, and it was the last thing Steve expected her to say. "There were a lot of Spanish people there, and I--I picked up a few phrases. Mi sol means 'my sun'."
She raised her eyes to Steve's.
"I didn't understand, back then--how you could call someone your sun--what that meant. You see, before I met you, I seemed to be permanently living in some sort of half-twilight--moving through the pale dark without being able to see a thing."
"But I did meet you," Cerise smiled at Steve. "And then I fell in love with you--and it was like the sun rose in my life for the very first time. So that's been you, ever since."
Steve was speechless--opened his mouth to say something--anything, to tell her how much it meant to him--how much she meant to him--
But she seemed to understand the silver lining his eyes.
"You don't need to say anything," she cupped his face in her thin hand. "I know you love me. That's enough--that's more than enough."
It was strange--Cerise had been telling him how he'd brought the morning to her--but it was her.
She looked like the iridescent, gold-dusted dawn hiding behind the curtains--still in her evening dress--now creased from the movements of Steve's hands, tracing the length of her body.
She looked like every dream Steve had ever had.
At that moment, Steve felt the impossible urge to pull her even closer--even though she was already pressed flush against him on the couch of their living room, Luffy purring contentedly across their ankles--she was already carefully enfolded in the ambit of his arms, the comfort of it like the last woolen shawl Steve had saved from his life in the 40's.
Even so--Steve felt like it wasn't enough.
It was as though he'd collected all the times he'd wanted to hold her--to touch her--to kiss her--and now he would feel incomplete if some part of him wasn't connected to some part of her.
But even then--
Steve kissed Cerise gently--she could feel him smile into it as he bit her lower lip just a little--and she shivered instantly at the slight pleasure-pain of it.
"You know I love you," Steve agreed easily. "That doesn't mean I'm not going to take every chance I get to remind you that I do."
The upward curve of Cerise's lips as she smiled at him was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen.
"So remind me then," she whispered shyly, laying her head on his chest.
Steve was only too happy to oblige.
"You know when I knew?" It wasn't really a question--he continued on right after. "It was just before I gave you my necklace--when you told me why you only saw me as Steve--and never as Captain America."
"Just that?" Confusion glimmered in Cerise's eyes.
"Just that," Steve repeated slowly--thought to himself how he would never be able to put into words how much that little speech of hers had meant to him.
But he tried anyway.
"All my life I've been a symbol to people," he told her open, honest face. "Of better times--of hope--of many things. And if I ever fell short of that image--I knew they wouldn't hesitate to turn on me. But you--"
Steve broke off and grazed the arc of her cheekbones with his lips.
"You were the only one who saw me as human--as flawed--and accepted me for it. You respected me for it--for being me . And once I realized that, I also realized I loved you--that you were the best thing that ever walked into my life."
He tightened his grip around her waist--needed her to feel how visceral his emotions were.
"It was just like my universe naturally realigned," Steve continued. "Before, it operated on its usual orbit--but now--now it orbits around you."
Steve fondly wiped away the tears welling up in Cerise's eyes again as he finished speaking.
" 'You don't need to say anything,' " he quoted back to her teasingly. " 'I know you love me. ' "
"Doesn't mean I can't remind you," Cerise shot back at once--winked at Steve as he threw his head back and laughed, giddy with happiness--at being with her.
"Happy birthday, mi sol," Cerise told him drowsily, the reassuring beat of his heart under her ear lulling her to sleep.
"It's the best one yet," Steve mumbled into her hair, watching as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Years down the line, Steve would look back at that moment as something sacred--something more holy than the highest altar of the highest god.
The memory of her face right than--incandescent with some indefinable quality that had nothing to do with the rays of light creeping under the curtains-- would be a talisman in the bleak wasteland of the years ahead--a lone lantern in the dark cave Steve would find himself in.
He would regret, in those oncoming times--that he had not committed that moment to paper.
That he had not drawn his destiny between the cracks of her smile--filled his future in the lifeline of her palm.
He would wish.
He would wish.

Chapter Text

The Still Of Your Hand

Cerise woke to the slow drag of Steve's lips across her skin.
"Morning, sweetheart," he murmured against the hollow of her throat, the vibration of his voice sending filament-like shivers down Cerise's spine.
She could tell he'd noticed in the way his lips flicked up against the line of her neck--
Didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed when he simply ran a hand down her back instead.
Cerise kissed along the curve of Steve's jaw--smiling as she felt his heartbeat quicken under her palm.
Steve tightened his arms around her waist, leaning his head against hers.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to keep you here a while," he said lowly, raking his hands over the folds of her now-completely crushed dress. "I need to know this isn't a dream--that you really are mine."
"I don't mind," Cerise replied faintly, breath hitching ever so slightly as Steve nipped at her collarbone. "And you should--you should know by now that I'm yours."
"Should I now?" Steve chuckled quietly, time seeming to stretch between their fingers as languidly as the molten honey sunlight drifting into the room. "Why don't you show me, then?"
Cerise settled into his hold, only too happy to oblige--
Until she nearly toppled back in alarm as the door to the living room flung open with a bang.
"Separate yourselves, uglies," Tony barked without a hint of shame. "Judging from the nauseating display in front of me, last night, in fact, did actually happen."
"And did you need to barge in here to believe that?" Steve demanded, glaring at him.
"Jeez, you two didn't even bother to change your clothes," Tony ignored him, eying their crumpled evening wear. "Well I suppose that means it's official then. Or are you going to stick your head in the sand again and pretend this never happened, old man?"
"Of course not," Steve said, affronted. "I love her and I'm standing by that."
Cerise's gaze flickered uncertainly between the two men--there seemed to be some unsaid question hanging in the air between the two Avengers.
"Uh huh," Tony pursed his lips. "So should I get around to soundproofing your rooms then?"
Cerise flushed virulent scarlet, jumping to her feet with alacrity.
"I'm just gonna go," she said hurriedly, refusing to meet Tony's eyes.
Steve waited until she'd left before turning to face Tony.
"You did that on purpose," he crossed his arms, unamused. "To make her leave."
"Yeah," Tony admitted baldly. "I did."
They locked gazes.
"So," Steve cleared his throat, the taste of Cerise still heavy on his tongue. "Is this the part where you tell me you'll beat me up if I ruin this?"
"No," came Tony's unexpected response, making Steve's head shoot up in surprise. "This is the part where I tell you you'll beat yourself up if you ruin this--and that's worse than anything I can do to you."
He sat across from Steve, countenance uncharacteristically serious.
"That kid back there," Tony jerked his head towards the stairs. "She has more love in her heart than the rest of us put together. And she's chosen to give it to you--and if you don't feel goddamn blessed for that every day of your life, Rogers, then yes, I will beat you up. I won't even hesitate."
Tony leaned forward intently, looking Steve straight in the face.
"I know you, Steve," he continued doggedly. "You're a good man--an honorable one. I just don't know if you're a good enough man for her."
Steve held Tony's gaze unflinchingly.
"I'm not," he said, slow but clear. "I know I'm not--and that's exactly why I'm never going to let anything damage our relationship--I won't even let anything come close."
Even then, his cerulean eyes were roving over the staircase--always oriented in Cerise's direction.
"She is--she is the best thing I've ever come across in my life," Steve said hoarsely, the dry burn at the back of his throat instantaneous at the mere thought of losing Cerise. "The only absolution I'll ever know."
"She could have anyone she wanted," he said haltingly, but the words came out firm all the same. "But she wants me. She loves me--even though I don't deserve it in the least. So--so this miracle that's been placed in my hands--I'm not going to fritter it away. I'm never going to make the mistake of letting her go again--or hurting her if I can help it. "
Steve kept his eyes aloft against Tony's probing glance.
"And I'm not just saying this because you need assurance," he told Tony bluntly. "I'm saying it because I mean it. If she asked me to lay the world at her feet I'd find a way to do it."
"Cerise would never ask," Tony said dryly.
"I know," Steve smiled. "She never does think about herself."
"And you'd lay said world at her feet anyway," Tony surmised, shooting Steve a contemplative look.
Steve shrugged.
"Thought that was obvious, Stark."
"Well," Tony rose to his feet, dispelling the solemn strain in the air and clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Dire warnings aside, I'm happy for you, Cap. For both of you."
"Thank you, Tony," Steve nodded at him. "Should have believed you earlier about her."
"No shit," Tony drawled. "And oh yeah--I was serious about that soundproofing, old man. Last thing I need is to be kept up at odd times of the night when you both--"
"Get out, Tony."

~~~

"So how long are you going to keep staring at me like a deer in the headlights?" Tony irritably remarked as Cerise peered at him cautiously.
"I'm not gonna bite, Bambi," Tony rolled his eyes.
"I bet Steve will, though," Natasha said leeringly, malicious glee in her eyes as Cerise's cheeks instantly flamed at her words.
"Oh, leave her alone, Romanov," Tony rebuffed surprisingly. "I don't want to hear it as much as the kid doesn't want to talk about it."
The spy let out a low whistle.
"She already has an overprotective boyfriend, Tones," Natasha smirked. "Doesn't need an overprotective dad, too."
"Don't call me Tones," Tony snapped at once.
"I think I can decide what I need for myself, thanks," Cerise resentfully muttered.
The three sobered as an incoming message flashed across Tony's holo-screen in front of the lab.
"That's not an id I recognize," Tony said quietly.
"Play it," Cerise whispered, somewhere deep down, already knowing what it would be.
She recoiled in horror as the two cloaked figures rose up in front of her.
"Cerise Solange, " came the dull rasp of the larger hooded entity--Quotho, by the sound of it. "You have escaped us twice. There will not come a third time--you cannot stay in your little compound all your life.
"Someday you will come out--and we will take you. And your brave soldier will be able to do nothing. We will take you--and everything and everyone you have ever loved."
"Enjoy the time you have left, girl. Your days are numbered."
Cerise choked, the air seizing in her lungs--
And turned on her heel and fled.
Natasha followed after her at once--but Tony wrapped a hand around her arm.
"Let her go, Nat," he said, voice shaking with barely controlled fury. "She won't talk to either of us right now."
Tony had already turned his back on the Russian, fingers flying over the screen in an attempt to trace the origins of the video.
"Call Steve," Tony barely looked over his shoulder as he spoke. "Tell him to come home right now."
"Tell him we have a problem."

~~~

Steve hurried up the staircase--every muscle in his body screaming at him to get to her.
He knew the brothers' presence, at least for that moment, had purely been virtual--but the threat to Cerise hung in the air as heavily as a noose.
He needed to feel her in his arms to believe she was safe.
Steve found Cerise huddled in his room--silent and subdued in the blankets of his bed.
He wanted to talk to Cerise at once--let her know he'd fight tooth and nail before allowing anything to happen to her--
But Steve knew it wasn't what she needed right then--knew it was him she was worrying over, not herself--him and Tony and Natasha and even Thor.
Because it was just who she was.
So he simply settled into the sheets next to her, resting his head lightly against Cerise's shoulder.
"You do this a lot," Steve murmured into the quiet between them, pointing at the nails she'd dug into her palms. "When you're upset. I've noticed."
"You notice everything," Cerise smiled wanly.
"It's an old habit," she continued when Steve looked at her expectantly. "I think when I was a child, it helped me focus on the physical ache instead of what was aching on the inside. Better my hands than my heart, I suppose you could say."
"But it doesn't work anymore," Cerise shrugged tiredly, and Steve wanted to crush the world to dust under his fingers for the defeated droop it had caused to her shoulders. "Now they just both hurt."
Steve gathered her hands between his own--gently brushed his lips across the crescent scars littering her palms.
"You hold my hand whenever you feel like this," he said, soft yet fierce. "As hard as you want."
Cerise raised her eyes to Steve's, so dark that he thought they were like a moor at midnight.
"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered--and Steve knew she wasn't talking about their hands anymore.
"Nothing about you could ever hurt me," Steve replied firmly, cupping her face in his palms--knew she understood what lay behind his words and his touch.
"Steve--" Cerise swallowed convulsively--
And he braced himself--knew he'd waited until this moment for her to summon up what she wanted to say.
"I want them gone," the words fell out of Cerise like a torrential flood. "I don't want this to be real. I'm scared, Steve--I'm so scared, and it isn't just because I'm terrified something will happen to you--to Tony, to Miss Romanov, because of me. That's always there, but--"
She took in a shuddering breath.
"But it's because I've become selfish," Cerise stuttered. "I want them gone because I want to stay--I want to stay nearly breaking my back training with Miss Romanov--I want to stay with Tony, making things in his lab and enduring all his stupid teasing, and I--and I--"
"And I want to stay with you ," she burst out brokenly. "I want to stay with you always, because I love you and there's nothing and no one else I want more and I--and I--"
"Hey, hey, no," Steve enveloped Cerise's trembling body into his arms, shushing her softly. "Sweetheart, no. You're not selfish just because you want to be with the people you love."
"Now you listen to me," Steve wiped away the crystalline tears streaking her face. "I don't know what those two want from you--I don't even know what they're planning right now. All I know is that I love you, and that Tony loves you--and it may be in vastly different ways, but we are going to protect you no matter what. And I know you're going to do the same for us. Because that's what family does--and that's what we are. You and me and Tony and Nat--and even that idiot Thor."
Despite herself, Cerise let out a watery chuckle.
"We're family," Steve repeated insistently. "And you--you are the love of my life--both in the old and the new. And I will fight everyone on this planet if I have to, if it means I get to have a lifetime with you. I promise, sweetheart. We have all our years ahead of us."
Silently, Steve entwined his fingers around Cerise's--and she squeezed back at once.
Their hands became the bridge of hope they would cross--
Together.

Chapter Text

All I Worship & Adore

Cerise curled inward in silent protest, reluctant to respond to Steve's insistent nudging.
"Get up, sweetheart," Steve's tone was gentle yet firm. "It's time for our run--you can't miss it."
Cerise mumbled something incoherent, still half-asleep, and Steve couldn't help melting a fraction at the sight of her crinkled lips and scrunched nose--she reminded him of a drowsy little kitten right then.
Still, he hardened his heart, and shook her a smidgeon more forcefully.
"Sweetheart, c'mon. It's well past dawn."
Cerise groaned--and Steve swallowed past the instant tightening of his throat at the sound.
She stretched up to him blindly, eyes still in slits against the watery early morning sunlight.
"Mi sol, please," Cerise kissed along the side of his jaw in entreaty, voice rubbed rough with the vestiges of sleep. "Just another hour. Then we'll go, I promise."
There was silence,
Cerise peeked open a wary eye--
And then shrieked in indignation as she was unceremoniously dumped onto the cold hardwood floor, bedclothes and all.
Her dumbfounded expression proved too much for Steve--he rolled onto his back and laughed loud and long at her disheveled, disgruntled state.
Cerise glowered at him.

~~~

Cerise mulishly stomped into the room--still visibly irked.
Natasha raised a sharp eyebrow at her in question--which went ignored.
"So Steve's been wheedling for your attention all day," the spy began conversationally.
"Let him wheedle," Cerise snapped instantly. "He deserves it."
Natasha rolled her eyes in disgust.
"You have that man wrapped around your finger," she said disdainfully.
"Yeah, right," Cerise snorted. "He wouldn't even let me sleep in today when I asked. Dumped me on the floor when I objected."
"That's different," Natasha replied, though she fought to hide her smirk. "It's something that's good for you, and necessary to keep up your self-defense. He's not letting you slack off precisely because he cares."
Cerise's lip jutted out obstinately.
"You ask him for something outside of training," Natasha insisted. "I'll pay good money if he doesn't get it to you within the hour."
Cerise opened her mouth--and then paused as Steve stepped into the room.
"Thor's back and Tony wants a meeting," he offered by way of greeting, eying Cerise.
Cerise pointedly ignored him--and then squeaked in surprise as he strode across to her and tilted her face up by her chin--kissing her soundly on the mouth.
"I won't tell you to cheer up because you look absolutely adorable sulking," Steve said smilingly. "But do stop ignoring me. I think I've been tortured long enough, don't you think?"
Cerise turned cherry red at the mischievous twinkle in Steve's eyes as he winked at her--but before she could respond, an irritated Tony swept into the room, chivvying everyone out with him.
The four Avengers seated themselves around the worn-down coffee-table--and Cerise blinked as she realized there was no extra chair.
Cerise had barely moved to get one for her own use before she found herself summarily pulled onto Steve's lap.
"Just sit here," he said with perfect equanimity, one arm securely snaked around her waist.
She opened her mouth--whether to object, she did not know--but it died on her lips at Tony's baleful gaze.
"So this is my plan," Thor began hastily. "The information I have on the Alfakin and the two brothers currently is idle conjecture at best--folktales and bedtime stories from my boyhood."
Despite her pique, Cerise found herself relaxing into the warmth of Steve's familiar hold as the discussion continued, lulled to a state of semi-consciousness.
"...So that's settled then," Tony pushed his chair back. "Thor will go back to Asgard to gather as much intel as he can on Quotho and Jhago--it might help us predict their next move regarding Ceri--"
He broke off in disbelief as he spotted Cerise with her head nestled into the side of Steve's neck, fast asleep and blissfully unaware of her surroundings.
"Is she seriously sleeping at a time like this?" Tony sniped, immediately annoyed.
"Let her be," Steve said defensively, protectively tightening his grip on her dozing form. "It's half past nine and she's tired."
He surveyed the delicate purple lining under her closed lids--and felt the first few twinges of guilt.
Perhaps he should have let her sleep in after all.
"I'm taking her to bed," Steve announced in a tone that brooked no argument--quite frankly daring anyone to attempt to rouse Cerise.
No one did.
Steve carefully carried her up the stairs--smiling softly as she nuzzled closer into the ambit of his arms.

~~~

Cerise woke with her head pillowed on the muscled curve of Steve's arm--and screwed her eyes shut against the glare of sunlight--too bright to be of dawn.
"What time is it?" She mumbled incoherently, burrowing further into Steve's embrace.
"It's ten," Steve replied quietly, stroking soft fingers through the strands of her hair.
Cerise's eyes flicked open.
"You didn't wake me," she noted.
"It's Sunday," Steve said mildly.
Cerise arched a quizzical eyebrow.
"I thought we didn't get Sundays," she said, a wry twist to her mouth.
Steve huffed, ducking his head evasively into the folds of Cerise's blanket.
"First you succeed in making me feel guilty for forcing you out of bed," Steve grumbled. "And now when I don't, you question that too. What do you want, you little minx?"
You , came the traitorous whisper of Cerise's mind, but she didn't have the courage to voice that thought--yet.
"I was just asking," Cerise said instead, tugging at Steve's hair playfully. "Thank you for letting me sleep in. I've been--a little tired, I guess."
"I know," Steve's eyes resumed their state of seriousness. "Which reminds me, Pepper's dragging Tony to church, since it's Sunday and all. She said you were free to join, if you wanted."
"Oh," Cerise blinked, touched by the unexpected gesture. "I'm going to thank her, but no. I don't pray."
"Not religious?" Steve asked.
"Bit more than that, actually," Cerise chewed her lip. "I don't really believe in a god as such."
"How come?" Steve propped his head up with his free hand, aquamarine gaze intent on Cerise.
"For me to accept that there's a god," Cerise said slowly, eyes opaque and hooded. "I would have to accept that all the misery and suffering that happens even when people don't deserve it--it happens because some higher being intended it so. Someone let it happen."
She shrugged.
"I'm not capable of that kind of acceptance."
Steve nodded thoughtfully.
"What about you?" Cerise asked as she ran a gentle hand through Steve's hair.
Steve hummed contentedly under her touch.
"I don't particularly care," he replied. "Either way, we're on our own. If there isn't a god then we're exactly as alone in life as we've always been--and if there is one, he or she or it isn't noble by any means. That god then--commits random acts of cruelty just as much as he commits random acts of charity--so in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't make much of a difference."
"For me," and Steve reached up to caress the side of Cerise's face as he spoke. "There's no higher law than loving you. You're the holiest thing in my life."
Color flared high in Cerise's cheeks--eyes glimmering like the jade lanterns of old.
"I--"
"Shush," Steve pressed his lips into her own, leisurely traversing the path of her skin down to her neck. "You don't have to say anything. I didn't tell you to hear a response."
"I love you," Cerise said breathlessly, disregarding his words.
"I know," Steve chuckled. "You tell me every day. And I think you look beautiful when you blush."
His words only served to heighten the heat in Cerise's face--and Steve suddenly choked at a very different image forming in his mind--of other ways he could make her blush.
Steve couldn't resist the pull--he left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down her throat--let his teeth graze against the sensitive skin he found there.
Cerise couldn't help the involuntary little moan that escaped her lips at the contact--and instantly felt Steve's heartbeat thrum under her hand in response--and his body stiffen.
Steve pulled back at once--
And there was a pregnant pause.
Cerise couldn't help the slight hurt that rose within her--but it was quick to disappear when Steve tugged her out of the bed.
"Come on," Steve urged. "I have an idea. Let's go."
"Wha--" Cerise gaped at him. "Steve, I'm in my nightclothes. At least let me chan-"
She squealed as Steve lifted her up in one fluid motion, ignoring her fists drumming against his chest.
He jogged up the stairs to the roof, only setting her down once they'd stepped out into the sunlight.
"Steve, I look ridiculous," Cerise said huffily. "Why are we here?"
"Maybe," Steve grinned. "But it's a cute kind of ridiculous."
He set his phone down on the rickety table nearby, and pressed play--drawing Cerise flush against him.
"Dance with me please," he said softly. "We've only ever done it once before."
She was reluctant at first--but gradually settled into the sway of Steve's body against her own, safe and solid and steady.
Cerise buried her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the headiness of his mandarin-coated scent--and let the music engulf them into its rise and rhythm.

"Boys workin' on empty
Is that the kind'a way to face the burning heat?
I just think about my baby
I'm so full of love I could barely eat
nothing sweeter than my baby
never want once from the cherry tree
Cause my baby's sweet as can be
She give me toothaches just from kissin' me
I swear I thought I dreamed her
She never asked me once about the wrong I did
My baby never fret none
About what my hands and my body done
If the lord don't forgive me
I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me
When I was kissing on my baby
And she put her love down soft and sweet
In the lowland plot I was free
Heaven and hell were words to me

When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her..."

Chapter Text

Liquor & Lucidity

Cerise panted for air, feebly stretching for the container of water just out of her reach.
She eyed the unruffled spy with some irritation--it was hard not to be irked by her utter poise even after the grueling session they'd just completed.
Natasha had barely even broken a sweat, as far as Cerise could tell.
"Okay, that's enough for today, I think," the S.H.I.E.L.D agent pronounced decisively, and Cerise instantly curled onto the floor in a boneless, exhausted heap.
"So," Natasha began conversationally. "How are things with you and Steve?"
"Good," Cerise smiled past her fatigue at the mention of his name. "Better than good, actually. Still doesn't feel real, sometimes."
"Right," Natasha nodded. "And how's the sex?"
Cerise spat out her water.
"I--you--what--" she spluttered incoherently, beet red in the face.
In her flustered state, Cerise involuntarily admitted the truth.
"We haven't--we haven't had sex," she said in a subdued tone.
"Really?" Natasha whistled lowly through her teeth. "The way he looks at you, I'd have thought you'd be hard pressed even getting out of bed."
Cerise, impossibly, turned redder.
"I don't--" her lips pulled downward as she voiced her fear at last. "I don't think he wants to."
"Ha," Natasha rolled her eyes. "I really, really, doubt that."
She smirked suddenly as a devious plan took root in her mind.
"Steve's not gonna be back till later tonight, is he?" Natasha asked.
"No," Cerise replied hesitantly, not quite liking the gleam in the Russian's eyes.
"Great," Natasha tugged Cerise to her feet. "Go wear something pretty. Or in fact, let me choose."
"I have a plan."

~~~

In retrospect, it occurred to Natasha that it had perhaps not been such a good idea after all.
"Naaaaat," Cerise warbled, teetering dangerously on top of Steve's paper-laden table. "Look at me! I'm taaaaallll!"
"Yes, I can see that," Natasha said testily, stealthily reaching forward to pull Cerise down.
Cerise, showing remarkable nimbleness for someone so inebriated, evaded her clutches easily.
"I'm taaalll, Natasha," she insisted, lower lip jutting out just a little. "Taller than stupid Steve with his stupid perfect body."
"Goddamnit," the spy swore, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "I knew I shouldn't have let her mix that rum with whiskey."
"Kid," Natasha attempted to make her voice stern, despite the ridiculousness of the situation. "Get down. You're going to fall in those heels."
"Can't make me," Cerise stuck out her tongue truculently. "I'm gonna stay here and dance!"
Natasha slumped onto the chair with resignation.
"Rogers is going to kill me," she realized with a slow sense of impending doom.
Cerise ignored her--and true to her word, began to dance, the music emanating tinny from her phone over Natasha's protests.
The door swung open at that exact moment--but neither Cerise, drunk and in too much of a daze, nor Natasha--agitated and apprehensive as she was, noticed Steve's arrival.
He gaped in shock at the tableau laid out before him--and froze completely at the sight of Cerise.
Steve seemed to almost devour her with his gaze--the bewitching image she made right then--in her electric green dress that barely brushed the tops of her thighs, made her eyes seem sharp and bright and fevered--the strapped heels that made her honey-toned legs stretch on for miles--and the scarlet-tipped beacon of her lips, plush and pouted and inviting.
And if that wasn't maddening enough--she was dancing.
And dancing in a way Steve had never seen her before.
Cerise seemed to meld into the heavy synth of the music, weaving Steve into the spell of her sinuous body--her movement an unbroken, undulating wave that made Steve burn at the sight of it.
He gulped, the insides of his throat drying out--could feel the corduroy of his pants tightening around him.
Cerise finally noticed him--and tripped in the very next second.
She shrieked--
And found herself instantly in the secure hold of Steve's arms.
The weight of her body against his proved too much for Steve.
"Natasha," he said flatly, entirely unable to tear his eyes from the crimson curve of Cerise's mouth. "Get o--"
"I'm going," the spy said hastily--and practically fled from the room.
Cerise blinked up at him uncertainly--he had yet to put her down.
"I--"
Her gasp was muffled by the hard press of Steve's mouth into hers--his tongue swiping past the seam of her lips--the rough push of his body pinning her to the bed.
There was an urgency to his hands as he trailed a path down the curve of her body--a desperation in the way he let his teeth graze at her throat.
Cerise's pulse was racing--she stretched out shaking fingers, lifting the hem of Steve's shirt--
And Steve jerked away from her.
"Stop," he breathed hard, chest visibly heaving. "We have to stop."
The words stung at Cerise--
"Why?" She whispered, already feeling her stomach sink.
"You're drunk," Steve moved away from her a fraction--but he still moved away.
The distance hurt.
"No," Cerise shook her head, fingers cutting into her palms. "No, that's not it. You always pull away from me. Always."
"Sweetheart, we can talk about this later," Steve hedged. "You're--"
"No!" Cerise raised her voice. "You tell me now. Why, Steve?"
She felt a lump rise in her throat at the conflicted look on Steve's face.
"You don't want me," she concluded dully--it wasn't a question.
"What?" Steve snapped his head up in shock.
"NO!" He exclaimed loudly, horrified at the hurt rejection on Cerise's face. "God, no, sweetheart, I--"
But Cerise had averted her gaze from his, sliding off the bed as fast as she was able.
"Oh, you silly girl," Steve sighed--and pulled Cerise flush against him, leaving not even an inch between their bodies.
He ignored her stammering protests, pressing her even further into him, right against the front of his pants.
Cerise's face lit aflame as she felt the obvious swell against her dress.
"You can feel that, can't you," Steve asked, affectionate yet exasperated. "You drive me crazy, darling. I always want you--how could you ever think that I don't?"
"Then why'd you ask me to stop right now?" Cerise stared at him, eyes wide and confused.
"Well," Steve tapped the tip of her pink nose fondly. "Because you actually are drunk and it wouldn't be right. And secondly--"
He lifted her into his lap, arms loose around her waist.
"I didn't want to say this because I know you're uncomfortable talking about it," Steve began quietly, rubbing slow circles into Cerise's bare thigh. "But you told me that you've--you've had sex before often--and it was never something you enjoyed--not fully. You did it because you were hurting, and lost, and needed a distraction--and even your first time--it wasn't special for you, the way it was meant to be."
Steve ran a soft hand across Cerise's cheek.
"I didn't want our first to be like that," he said gently. "And I didn't want to rush into it--make you think it was all I wanted from you, because it really isn't."
"But I'm sorry," Steve added sincerely. "I should have realized how it would make you feel if I kept pushing you away."
"You move me in ways no one ever has before," he raised Cerise by her chin, fingers brushing against her smooth skin. "Don't doubt that for a second."
"I would never deny you anything," Steve said, looking at her intently. "I'd give you whatever you want--whenever you want it."
Cerise swallowed thickly at the subtle seduction of his promise, feeling her heartbeat hasten--whatever she wanted.
Whenever she wanted it.
"I wish I had waited," she admitted faintly. "I would have wanted you to be my first."
Steve shook his head, smiling.
"Doesn't matter to you that I've been with other people, right?" Steve didn't pause, already knowing her answer. "Same thing--it doesn't matter to me that I'm not your first. All I care about is being your last."
Cerise kissed him straight on the mouth--felt him laugh against her lips.
And then he groaned.
"If you keep kissing me like that I won't be able to hold back," Steve admonished. "You need to sleep--you're gonna feel like crap in the morning."
"I don't want you to," Cerise said mulishly. "And I'm not sleepy."
"God," Steve leaned his forehead against hers. "You're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."
"You say that," Cerise said, piqued. "And then you keep stroking my thigh."
"Oh," Steve blinked, stilling his hands. "Sorry."
"I didn't say you should stop," Cerise said, blushing furiously.
She glared at the smug grin that crossed Steve's features, smacking him as he teasingly poked her heated cheeks.
"I really," he breathed into the curve of her neck. "Really do love you."
"But," Steve pulled himself away from Cerise with a painfully palpable reluctance that pleased her no end. "This isn't the time, and you really do need to rest. I think it's better we sleep in separate beds tonight."
Much as she wanted to, Cerise didn't bother arguing--she knew he was right.
It didn't stop her from sulking, however.
Steve kissed the pout off her lips, softly bidding her goodnight.
He walked out slowly, and then--gently, but with immense feeling, thunked his head against the wooden door.
He was in for another cold shower tonight.
Something told him it wouldn't be the last, either.
"I'm going to kill you, Romanov," Steve said grimly.

Chapter Text

Love Me Tender

"I'm going to do a sweep through Brooklyn for any residual alien activity," Steve told Tony, quickly dropping a kiss on Cerise's forehead. "I'll take the Quinjet."
"Sure," Tony nodded. "Take Bambi's device, then. Now that I've replicated it, we have enough to spare."
"I'm coming with you," Cerise said firmly, grabbing Steve's arm. "You're not going without me."
"I--" Steve eyed her obstinate face--and knew better than to argue.
"Fine," he sighed instead. "But you're staying inside."
"Yeah, yeah," Cerise patted his cheek. "I know the drill."
Steve looked over his shoulder.
"Stark, you want to come too?"
Tony opened his mouth--and then, spotting Cerise's pointed stare, closed it again.
"Nah, you guys go ahead," he replied casually--and rolled his eyes in disgust as they left.
"They sicken me," he declared to Natasha. "It's sickening."
"Better than watching them pine over each other," the spy responded dryly. "At least they're busy with themselves."
"Too busy, if you ask me," Tony grumbled, loping off to the lab. "I don't like it."

~~~

"Device hasn't picked up anything, has it?" Steve adjusted the lever, raising the hovercraft off the ground.
"Nope," Cerise popped her lips on the 'p', barely even turning back to look at the detector. "Been silent all evening."
"Hmm," Steve's lips thinned. "Guess we can head back then."
Steve turned the jet around, smiling as Cerise rested her head in the crook of his neck.
"Will you sing for me?" He asked softly. "You haven't done it for a while."
Cerise blinked up at him.
"Didn't realize you missed it that much," she said shyly. "What do you want me to sing?"
"Anything," Steve shrugged. "I just want to hear your voice."
"Okay," Cerise smiled gently--and began to hum.
Steve closed his eyes--let himself float in the smoke-laden silk of her voice, syrup-heavy and dark and unbearably sweet, like the molasses he'd loved to eat when he was young.
"I would shun the light
Share in evenings cool and quiet
Who wouldn't trade that hum of night
For sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
Whose heart would not take flight?
Betray the moon as acolyte
On first and fierce affirming sight
Of sunlight, sunlight, sunlight."
Cerise traced the lines of Steve's palm with her own--and his eyes flew open, heart seeming to seize in his chest at the weight of her lilting words--at what she was trying to tell him.
"I had been lost to you, sunlight
And flew like a moth to you, sunlight
Oh your love is sunlight.
Steve could feel the moisture collect in the corners of his eyes--chest contracting almost painfully at the infinite love coating every syllable that fell from Cerise's lips.
"The tale is the same
Told before and told again
A soul that's born in cold and rain
Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight...."
Her song drifted to a close--and Steve gripped her hand tightly, unable, for the moment, to form words.
"You're crying," Cerise wiped at the liquid pooling under his eyes in wonder. "Why are you crying, mi sol?"
Steve laughed thickly in amazement--how could she not know?
"How?" He finally choked out past the prison of his swollen throat. "How did I manage to deserve this kind of love from you?"
"You were you," Cerise's lips quirked up. "That's all you ever had to be."
Steve groaned--even that an approximation of her name.
"I can't sing," he said hoarsely, refusing to let go of her hand. "And I don't have the kind of words you deserve to hear, but--there's a moment in everybody's life, where they lift their eyes to meet someone's gaze, and think: 'There you are. I've been looking for you all my life.'"
He fought to get the words past the lump in his throat.
"And you--" Steve breathed. "You were my moment. You are, and always will be my moment."
Cerise gave no verbal response--all her answer lay in the arms she locked around Steve, the lips she pressed like a prayer to his face.
"Sweetheart," Steve's breath halted, pulse quickening as Cerise settled into his lap. "I need to--I need to fly the jet."
"So put it on autopilot," Cerise whispered into his skin.
Steve could feel the silent entreaty of her mouth at his jaw.
"Steve," Cerise was quivering in his hold. "Steve, please."
He slammed his hand down on the control-board, pulling away from the seat abruptly.
Steve lifted Cerise out of the chair in one fluid motion--felt her wind her legs around his waist.
He walked rapidly--the urgency a living, breathing, feverish presence between them--and laid her out on the gurney in the med bay.
Steve raised himself up on top of her--and paused.
"If y-"
Cerise's reply was to pull his face towards hers--and then Steve knew nothing else save the sweet heat of her mouth.
He was consumed in the burnt-sugar taste of her lips--fiercely sucking a mark into the tan tower of her neck.
"Take--take it off, I--" Steve could feel the fragile flutter of Cerise's heart under him, growing more frantic by the minute.
He tugged her blouse over her head, drinking in the clean curve of her waist.
Cerise averted her eyes suddenly--wished she had chosen to wear something other than the plain white bra she had on--but Steve's eyes had darkened to a blue so deep and hungry it was almost black.
He very clearly didn't care.
"You are beautiful," he said dazedly--and unhooked the clasp of her bra in the next second--as if he couldn't bear even the slightest barrier between them. "So, so, beautiful."
Steve gently pushed Cerise's trembling hands aside as they fumbled at the buttons of his shirt--pulled it off of himself along with his pants.
He could feel the muscles of his abdomen tighten as she ran her fingers across the hard planes of his stomach.
Cerise felt like she was being broken apart and put together, piece by piece, through Steve's hands as they caressed every inch of her body--the rough callouses scraping against her skin the most pleasurable pain.
Steve left a scorching trail of kisses from her neck down to the valley between her breasts--lushly loving and open-mouthed.
His lips ghosted over her stomach--moving back up to her peaked breasts--lapping at the golden surface.
Steve sucked the stiffened buds into his mouth, circling them with his tongue--and then, ever so carefully, bit into the sides of the sensitive flesh.
Cerise moaned at the torturous pleasure--long and loud and desperate.
"Fuck," Steve swore, savoring the limpid luster of her half-closed eyes right then, glimmering like filaments of phosphorence in the night-time sea. "I could listen to you all night."
Cerise barely had time to blush before Steve slid off her jeans in one tug, exposing her legs to the cool air of the hovercraft.
Steve buried his head against the side of her neck--engulfed himself in the light lotus scent of her--ran his hands through the rich ebony tapestry of her hair.
"God," he growled. "God, I want you."
Cerise's breaths were fast and labored, but her voice was clear as she stared at Steve.
"Then take me," she enunciated, green boring into blue.
Steve operated on pure instinct after that.
Cerise was falling--the vertigo hitting her in waves as she fell further and further into the depths of Steve's skin against hers--she died a little death every time Steve lifted his lips from her body--and was resurrected in the next second at its return.
He was enshrining her body with the movements of his mouth on her legs--molding his lips from the arch of her ankle to the swell of her calves.
Cerise shuddered as he blotted the caramel cream of her thighs with red from the bite of his teeth--anticipation curling inside her as he reached further and further upwards.
Steve neared the cleft between her legs at last--and pulled away.
Cerise couldn't help the desperate, pleading whine that escaped her lips in protest.
"Hush, baby," Steve's voice had dropped so low, Cerise could almost feel it reverberate in the pits of her stomach. "I'll take care of you."
It made her cheeks turn scarlet as he bent his head down again--he'd never called her 'baby' before--and never quite in that way either, as if she were something sacred and profane all at once.
Cerise gasped as he finally reached the place where she wanted him most--explored every crevice of it with lips and teeth and tongue--charted the entire course of her.
Cerise was drowning--it was too much--she flung an arm over her face--and then froze in surprise as Steve's hand looped around her wrist.
"No," he looked at her intently, the rasping intimacy of his voice turning her face to flame. "I want to see you."
She lowered her arm, flushing all the way down to her neck as he resumed, sinking into the seduction of Steve's skin.
Cerise was writhing beneath Steve now--but he'd pinned her under him, and she was heady with the rush the restriction brought--frenzied with the way he drove her to the brink and back again.
"S-Steve," she stuttered, the beg of her body almost unbearable. "Steve, p-please--"
"I got you darlin'," he murmured against her, the vibration of his voice against the innermost part of her maddening Cerise almost into agony.
There was a primal thrum rising up in Cerise's core--the beat of her body like wild drums deep in the heart of some ancient African night.
"Let go for me, pretty baby," Steve coaxed--and pushed her over the edge.
Cerise's world turned blinding white--she shuddered apart in Steve's arms, half-sobbing his name, over and over again, like it was the only sound in the world that mattered.
"I love you," Steve whispered, and surged upward.
And then he was inside her--within the close and burning borders of her--dizzy with the privilege he'd been granted--of learning the lines of her body.
Cerise whimpered at the over-stimulation--the acute sensitivity traversing through her the most exquisite kind of pain.
And then there was only the languid roll of Steve's hips against hers--the folding of her legs around his waist as he ruined and remade her with each push into her.
There was only the litany of their names rolling off of each other's tongues--the melding of their bodies until Steve didn't know where his ended and hers began.
Steve was falling apart at the seams with every motion he made against and into Cerise--blistering pleasure coursing through him at being encased in her tight, velvet warmth--at the sighing, stammering syllables of his name that poured in an incessant stream from Cerise's moaning mouth--at how he was the only one who could memorize the map of her body now, his to love and worship and protect.
She dug her nails into his bare back--and the sharp sting made Steve groan with the rush of intoxication.
He could feel himself stiffening, feel his muscles tighten as Cerise's heat became too much for him.
Steve pressed his face into the sweeping wing of Cerise's collarbone, smearing half-formed oaths into her skin as he broke apart into his release.
He pulled out of her with shaking breaths, soothing Cerise with the stroke of his hands as she whined at the loss--rubbed slow, reassuring circles into the small of Cerise's back--steadying her trembling body.
They collapsed against each other, the staccato rhythm of their heartbeats gradually slowing in tandem.
Steve was the first to speak.
"You are--that was--" his tongue seemed trapped to the roof of his mouth, the words unwieldy and incoherent.
"Amazing," he said at last. "I don't know any other way to put it--you--it meant the world to me."
Cerise wrapped her arms around him--raised her face to his.
"I adore you," she replied simply. "And this--this was incredible. I never want anyone but you to touch me, ever again. "
Steve kissed her silently--and Cerise could taste herself on his tongue--it made her face burn.
He noticed, of course--chuckled playfully as she turned even redder.
"You know," Steve nuzzled her cheek. "I had this entire plan--I wanted it to be perfect--I genuinely didn't have any ulterior motives today, but--you did what you did, and..."
He laughed wryly.
"Well it's beyond me to resist you."
"I don't need a plan," Cerise pulled him impossibly closer to her. "And I don't need perfect. I just need you."
Steve kissed the side of her palm--felt like his heart would burst with the love he felt for her.
"And what do you mean I did what I did?" Cerise demanded indignantly. "You were an extremely willing participant, as I recall!"
"Yes, sweetheart," Steve grinned. "Very willing indeed. No arguments on that."
"S'long as that's clear," Cerise mumbled, words slurring together as the sunlight filtered through the Quinjet, turning the strands of Steve's hair to burnished gold and hers to silken soot.
"I.. really..love.. you," her eyes shuttered to a close as she fell against Steve's shoulder, lapsing into dreamless sleep.
"I know," Steve smiled softly, though she couldn't hear him. "You remind me every day."
He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest the entire way home--awash in the tide of her breathing.

~~~

Cerise groaned as something tapped softly against her face.
"We're home, baby," Steve nudged her insistently. "You have to get up now."
Cerise nodded drowsily, finding that he'd already dressed her.
She rolled off the gurney--and then blinked in shock as she found herself on the floor, staring up at Steve's alarmed face.
"Um," Cerise said faintly as she wobbled to her feet. "I think you might have to carry me."
"Oh, bite me Steve," she scowled as the most self-satisfied smirk she'd ever seen Steve wear crossed his features.
"I was doing exactly that an hour ago," Steve replied smugly as he easily pulled her into his arms, roaring with laughter as Cerise turned crimson.
"And I'll happily do it again," he almost purred into her ear, grinning as she squeaked in panic.
The smile melted off Steve's face, however, as he faced Tony's withering gaze as he stood by the door to the building.
Tony took one look at Cerise in his arms, and turned his back on them both.
"I don't want to know, I don't want to hear about it, and I want this image out of my head," Tony complained. "Oh, god, I think I'm going to throw up."
"No one asked you to wait for us, Stark," Steve frowned at him. "Why are you at the door, anyway?"
"Because you were gone all night!" Tony exploded. "I thought something might have happened, and instead--instead I find that you've corrupted my poor kid--"
"Your kid," Steve hoisted Cerise more securely in his hold. "Was the one who started it, and she wasn't complaining in the slightest--"
Cerise shrieked in protest, burying her head into the cotton of Steve's shirt in mortification.
"Get me out of here, please," she moaned to Steve. "I can't stand this."
"Believe me, that makes two of us," Tony muttered as Steve ran up the stairs, trying to console the pink-faced Cerise.
"God," Tony realized with a slow roll of nausea. "Now I'll actually have to get their rooms soundproofed."

Chapter Text

Like Honey & Grenadine

Cerise crept down the staircase as quietly as possible as the midday sun poured in, dust motes swirling in the air as Cerise gingerly made her way to the training room.
She didn't care that Steve would laugh at her later--there was no way she was going to risk running into Tony after their disastrous entrance.
Cerise wasn't even sure she could manage to look Tony in the eye after what had happened in the morning.
Frankly, she'd wanted Steve present as a buffer between them--but he'd been sleeping, and Cerise hadn't had the heart to wake him--not when he'd been smiling in his sleep, tousled blond hair curling slightly over his forehead.
Cerise would have happily sat next to him, running her hands over his smooth hair--but she had work to do as usual.
So she'd trudged downstairs, each step reinforcing the pleasant ache between her thighs.
Cerise's face reddened--how was she supposed to get any work done when the memory of the previous night was still fresh in her mind?
Even as she remembered, Cerise could feel her pulse quicken.
Unsuccessfully struggling to divert her thoughts, she stole into the training room--only to find Natasha waiting for her.
"Hey," the spy greeted in a carefully neutral tone.
"Hi," Cerise squeaked back.
Cerise suddenly spotted Steve's box of paperweights in the middle of the room and stooped to pick them up out of the way.
"Huh," Natasha commented at once. "So Steve really has been keeping you busy."
"What?" Cerise instantly stiffened.
Natasha pointed downward and Cerise's eyes swiveled to follow--after which she promptly froze.
The low neckline of her shirt had swung forward, revealing the dark tracery of marks Steve had left with his teeth down her breasts.
And Natasha had just seen it all.
Cerise shot to her feet, burning with embarrassment.
"I, uh--that is--"
Tony chose that exact moment to enter the training room.
"Afternoon, Romanov," he said, sparing only a perfunctory glance at Cerise. "Bambi, do you have heatstroke or something?"
"N-No," Cerise stammered, cheeks still flaming.
"Then did you go running?" Tony narrowed his eyes at her.
"No, Steve didn't make me run today," Cerise shifted uncomfortably as Tony's face immediately soured at the mention of the soldier's name.
"Yeah, I'll bet he didn't," Natasha leered at Cerise gleefully. "'Cause he's already tired you out, isn't that right, kid?"
Cerise spluttered in alarm, unable to respond.
"Goddamn you, Romanov," Tony swore, balefully eying the Russian. "I'd only just gotten that mental image out of my head, and now it's back. Thank you very much!"
"Sorry, Tones," Natasha shrugged unrepentantly. "The opportunity was too good to pass up. Besides, you have to know she's had sex before she came here. So what's the big deal?"
"She wasn't my kid back then," he replied mulishly. "And stop calling me Tones!"
Cerise didn't even wait to respond--courage had forsaken her, and she fled, racing up the staircase and banging into Steve's room--sleep be damned.
"Steve, they're killing me out there, either you suffer with me too or I'm hiding here forever, I--"
Cerise broke off in puzzlement, seeing Steve jump in alarm as she burst into the room.
He was already awake--he'd been holding his white pad, but it had fallen to the floor in his surprise--skidding across the wood to reach Cerise's feet.
Cerise scooped it up in her hands--and then stared as the pages flipped open--revealing her own face to her.
She'd seen Steve with his pad often enough in the early months of her time in the compound--seen him scribble in it often--but she'd never thought it was her he'd been drawing.
Cerise couldn't help thumbing through the pages, even as Steve hurriedly came up behind her to take it back--throat tightening at what she found there.
They were her features, yes--but her features as Cerise had never seen them before--there were her collarbones, like upraised wings--there, the curve of her lips--slow and sensuous and alluring--there, the bright of her almond-shaped eyes, limpid and lush and lingering green--there, the column of her neck--elegantly slender--and there were her small hands, daintily arched.
She gazed at the lines of her body--rendered so painstakingly tender--so softly loving--as warmly alive as she was.
It made her eyes sting.
"Um," Steve said nervously, pulling the pad from her hands. "That--I--"
"Is this really how you see me?" Cerise whispered, blinking furiously.
"This is really how you are," Steve corrected gently--an automatic yet utterly genuine response.
Steve drew Cerise into his arms the instant her lips trembled--cocooning her in his embrace.
"What are you crying for, sweetheart?" Steve unconsciously repeated her words of last night, tightening his hold on her as she hid her face in his shoulder.
"Nothing, I--" Cerise let out a watery laugh, raising her face to his.
"You really do love me," she said in wonder.
Steve snorted.
"What was your first clue?" He asked sarcastically--but still didn't let go of Cerise, pressing his face to the side of her neck.
"My silly baby," he murmured into the clean stroke of her clavicle, chuckling as he felt her skin heat immediately. "Why would you ever not believe how beautiful I find you?"
"You're much more than just beautiful," Steve added, thumbing across her cheek. "My muse and my music--and beyond."
"I believe you when you say it," Cerise looked at him seriously, cupping his face in her palms. "But you've only ever seen the best in me, Steve. There's a little bias in there."
Steve stared at her--mouth falling open.
Could he make her see?
How even now, staring at her face, scrubbed clean and bare, nose slightly pink---made his breath seize in his chest--how he wondered every day why no one else's heart turned wild at the delicate instep of her feet--why no one was driven mad by the liquid movement of her hair--why no one's world stood still at the gleaming gold of her laughter--at the rich, sweet grenadine of her voice.
Perhaps Steve couldn't--but he tried anyway.
"You are beautiful and I love you," he gripped Cerise's hands firmly. "And I see the best in you, sweetheart, because you are everything I want to be--you are more myself than I am."
"This right here," he placed his hand at her heart, feeling it beat reassuringly under his touch. "Yours and mine are the same--that's why I love you and you love me."
Steve didn't give her a chance to answer--let the movement of his body speak for them both--let his lips mold their message into Cerise's sensitive skin.
There was silence for a while--no sound except of their clothes sliding against each other--
And then Cerise groaned.
"Mi sol," she said breathlessly, twisting in his hold. "If you keep kissing me like this we're not going to be able to get out of bed."
Steve grinned against the heated pulse of her skin.
"Who said we're getting out of bed?"

Chapter Text

Siren Song

Steve tugged at the tight collar of his suit, irritably climbing up the stairs to his room.
S.H.I.E.L.D had had their annual function--and he and Natasha had been obligated to attend.
Steve directed a glower in the direction of Tony's lab--he'd been invited, but his eccentricities were well-known--no one had expected him to show up--
And he hadn't.
Not even Cerise had chosen to accompany Steve--she'd simply stated it was Sunday, as if that was self-explanatory--and dived right back under the covers.
She was probably still sleeping, thought Steve to himself, scowling.
The event, from morning till night, had been exactly as mind-numbing as Steve had imagined, familiar as he was with the corrupt machinations of intelligence agencies--it was the same old dance, over and over again--and he wanted no part of it.
"I'm never going to forgive you for not coming with me," Steve entered his room at last, shrugging off his jacket with relief. "It was horri--"
Steve broke off in shock as he saw Cerise peering at him from where she was curled up on his bed.
His mouth turned dry as he stared at her--at her inky hair tied up in a bun, exposing the swan dive of her neck--and at the white, collared shirt she had on, the last three buttons open, allowing Steve to see the tawny skin of her stomach.
It was his shirt--and she had worn nothing beneath it.
"You're. Wearing. My. Shirt." Steve said through gritted teeth, breath already unsteady.
"Uh, yeah," Cerise blinked at him, puzzled. "That's not a problem, right?"
It was the exact opposite--Steve's throat tightened.
He was coming up short of words to tell her what it was doing to him to see her like this--clad in nothing but his shirt.
His goddamned shirt.
"Steve?" Cerise slid off the bed--and Steve gulped as the bare, honey-tanned line of her long legs came into view--he could glimpse the gentle swell of her naked breasts through the transparent fabric.
He could barely concentrate on the words falling out of her mouth--too struck by the tantalizing holly-berry tint of her lips.
"If you want me to get any sleep tonight," Steve breathed heavily through his nose, desperately aiming for a semblance of control. "For the love of God, change into something else."
Cerise's lips rounded into a perfect 'o' as she realized Steve's meaning--and he inwardly cursed at how he instantly wanted to stain that mouth with his own imprint.
The green of her eyes was lazily pleased as she winked at Steve.
"Aye, aye, Captain," she said with a mock salute--and then paused in surprise as Steve's face immediately flamed at her words.
"Well, this is new," a slow smile crossed Cerise's features. "Nice to see you flustered for a change, Captain ."
"So," she drawled, padding across the room to where Steve was standing, feeling the acute burn in his face. "Still want me to change, mi sol?"
And Steve just snapped.
He had Cerise up against the wall before she could so much as blink--but even in the roughness of that gesture, Steve was quick to place his hand behind her head to shield her from the impact.
It was not lost on Cerise--it made her heart warm even amidst the roiling tension building between them.
"Don't tease me," Steve rasped fiercely. "Because I just might tease back."
He could sense Cerise's heartbeat increase, pressed up as he was against the supple length of her body--but she met his gaze evenly.
"What if I want you to?" She said, quiet but clear.
Steve had her spread out on the bed within the next second.
"Just remember you asked for this," he growled--and ripped off her panties into flimsy scraps--making Cerise yelp in shock.
Steve had already pulled his own clothes off--and he stopped Cerise as she moved to undo her own buttons.
"No," his voice slipped down two octaves, causing Cerise's core to pulse painfully. "Keep my shirt on."
Her face was blistering scarlet as she shifted her hands to wind in Steve's hair instead--pulling his face close to hers.
He bit her lower lip, insistent and rougher than usual--made her gasp with sharp pleasure.
Steve's eye fell on his pile of abandoned clothes--on the crystal blue of the tie Cerise had picked out for him.
"Sweetheart," he kissed down the side of her jaw. "Can I try something?"
"Mmm," Cerise's eyes were glassy and unfocused as she replied faintly. "Anything you want."
Steve reached for the tie, smiling as Cerise instantly whined at the loss of contact.
He raised her arms above her head, looping the tie around both of her wrists with a decisive knot.
"O-oh," Cerise stuttered, breath hitching at the restriction.
She twisted her legs together, feeling the warmth pooling between her thighs.
Cerise entreated him with her eyes, darkened almost to malachite.
"Steve," she sighed. "Steve, I--"
He needed no further encouragement.
Everything after was a heated haze to Cerise--the only thing she was aware of was the movement of teeth and tongue and lip--how Steve's scorching fingertips roved over the expanse of her searching, hungry skin--like she was the instrument and he the skilled musician.
He could make her body sing without words.
Cerise was drowning in the heady helplessness of her bindings--the soft silken rustle of the tie around her wrists driving her just as mad as the burn of Steve's lips against her own.
She exulted in the way she was entirely pinned under Steve's frame--the way he sucked a seeking trail from her breasts down the golden plateau of her stomach.
Cerise moaned, trying to stifle the sound against the flat side of her pillow--but Steve lifted her head away from it.
"I need to listen to you, darlin'," he reminded her throatily, eyes smoldering indigo fire.
"I-if someone hears," Cerise said haltingly. "We--"
"Room's been soundproofed," Steve said hoarsely, stroking over Cerise's legs--raising goosebumps along his path.
"Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't care," Steve added--and bit the tender skin of Cerise's thigh--smirking with satisfaction as she let out a loud whimper.
He didn't even give her time enough to blush--finally, finally moving his hands up to the apex of her thighs.
And then Cerise was shuddering--shuddering under the slow, torturous drag of his fingers moving against the length of her, sliding and rubbing but never quite exactly where she needed him most.
Steve let her feel the barest brush of his fingers against the center of her core, and Cerise tensed, on the cusp--
And then he pulled his hands away.
Cerise keened in protest, shivering at the sudden separation and the frantic want coursing through her body.
"S-Steve," she stammered desperately. "P-please Steve, I--"
"Shh," Steve soothed, even as he pressed open-mouthed kisses around the reddened skin of Cerise's thighs--and not where she wanted him--let her ache with incompletion.
"Will you be good for me, baby?"
"Y-Yes," Cerise almost choked, sinking into the agonizing oblivion Steve was subjecting her to--letting him mold and bend her pliant body between his hands. "I--I want to be good for you, Steve--I want to--"
Her words transformed into an unintelligible moan as Steve plunged himself into her--shaking as he pushed in to the brim--moving so that Cerise felt she would shatter.
He pressed his hand to the already overstretched flesh of her core--
And the scratch of his calloused fingertips was too much for Cerise--
They came at the same time--Steve biting inarticulate oaths into the soft skin at the hollow of her throat--Cerise splintering apart as filaments of electricity struck down her spine.
Steve hugged her to him, caressing over the curve of her back reassuringly as he smudged his murmured 'I love you's' into her trembling skin, much like the faint line of kohl streaked across her eyelids.
"I--don't--think t-this was quite what I asked for," Cerise panted as Steve loosened the tie, softly kissing away the stinging in her wrists.
"Right," Steve huffed, unconvinced. "What else did you expect was gonna happen, going around in my shirt like that?"
I--expected--s-something," Cerise admitted freely, still fighting to control her breathing. "But not--not this. I genuinely wasn't aiming for it--you tire me out enough as is."
Cerise glared at Steve as he instantly grinned in pure masculine approval--though he was quick to hide his face in the crook of her neck.
"Was this good for you though?" Steve raised himself up to see Cerise properly, face turning serious. "If it was too intense, baby, I'm sorry, I--"
He was abruptly cut off by Cerise reaching up to kiss him, gliding her tongue across his lips.
"I thought it was pretty clear I was enjoying myself," Cerise whispered, coloring even as she said it. "You really have nothing to worry about, mi sol."
She gathered his face between her small, soft palms.
"I trust you, Steve," she told him earnestly. "I'd let you do anything you wanted with me. You're the only person I've ever felt safe with--the only one I don't feel like I have to hide myself away from. Your heart is the only home I've ever known--and I wouldn't want it any other way."
"Falling in love with you," she said quietly, thumbing at Steve's flushed cheeks as she spoke. "It wasn't really falling at all. It was walking into this house and knowing that you were home."
Cerise chuckled as Steve spluttered incoherently in an attempt to respond.
"Look at that," she kissed his heated cheek. "I've made you blush twice in one day."
"I'm pretty sure I more than returned the favor," Steve grumbled, tucking her more securely into his side. "I--I really do love you, Cerise. I wish I was better at telling you that."
"You tell me just fine," Cerise said tenderly, pressing her face to Steve's chest to listen to his heartbeat. "Don't doubt it."
"If you say so, sweetheart," Steve gently kissed the top of her head.
"I do," Cerise sleepily mumbled, and in the same breath: "I also say I'm going to wear your shirts more often now."
He gaped at her in disbelief.
"Have mercy, woman," Steve groaned. "How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself if you start doing that?"
"You aren't supposed to keep your hands to yourself," Cerise replied pertly. "That's the whole point, idiot."
"Oh, you'll pay for that," Steve warned, seeing Cerise laugh at how he scowled at her.
Cerise's lips flicked upward.
"I look forward to it."

Chapter Text

Beloved

"Hey, kid, hand me that socket wrench, would you?" Tony called to Cerise distractedly, peering down at the spare parts littering his lab table.
"Sure," Cerise stretched up on her toes to look over his shoulder, glaring at Tony as he instantly snickered.
"So," Tony turned to face her, putting the wrench down as he did so. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but from now on Natasha is going to be solely responsible for your physical training."
"What?" Cerise's mouth popped open in indignation. "What's wrong with Steve training me?"
"Oh I'll tell you what's wrong with him training you," Tony began testily, crossing his arms together. "What's wrong is that I went down to the gym to speak to the two of you last week, and I found that Steve had tackled you to the floor--but the attack he was making on you was certainly no kind of self-defense I've ever seen before."
Cerise turned cherry red, clapping her hands over her ears before Tony could say another word.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Tony huffed. "So since the two of you seem entirely incapable of keeping your hands off each other, I don't think you'll be able to train together effectively."
"At least," Tony added with malicious glee. "Not the kind of training that's usually done in a gym."
"I--I think I'm gonna go," Cerise replied faintly, face burning like an open flame.
"No, wait," Tony caught her arm unexpectedly. "I--"
He paused, clearly discomfited.
"I don't mean that I'm not glad," he admitted grudgingly. "I can see how happy he makes you. And how much you've changed him."
"You are, aren't you?" Tony directed his searching gaze onto her. "Happy, I mean."
"More than I have words to describe," Cerise answered softly, turning around to look at him. "Tony, I'm so happy it terrifies me. Every day I love him more, and every day is happier than the one before it--and I'm scared."
"Why would that bother you?" Tony frowned at her, perplexed. "These are all good things, right?"
"Yes, they are," Cerise smiled ruefully. "And it's because they're good that I'm scared, Tony. I'm scared because this is the first time in my life that I'm actually happy--that I've actually belonged somewhere. And I belong here. With Steve, with you--with Nat--and I--"
She broke off, voice shaking.
"And I feel like it's too good to be true," Cerise admitted, the words almost seeming to drag themselves up and out of her mouth. "I feel like if I let myself believe in this happiness--that it's going to taken from me. Like the universe will realize the imbalance in granting me this--something more than I deserve--much more--and it's just going to snatch it away."
"I don't want to be alone again, Tony," Cerise pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, as she lowered her eyes from Tony's shocked face. "I don't--I don't want to be without Steve ever again. Or you. I don't want to be without this life."
"Now you listen to me," Tony said fiercely, bending down to Cerise's eye-level. "No one and nothing is going to take this away from you. Over my dead body would I let that happen, do you understand me?"
"There is no one," Tony said through gritted teeth. "Who deserves happiness more than you. No one at all, and I can't believe you're stupid enough to think that you don't."
"You're the best of us, kid," he patted Cerise's cheek. "Don't you forget it."
"I--"
"And what is this crap about being without Steve?" Tony scowled at Cerise, cutting her off. "Do you even see the way he looks at you? The idiot would worship you if you let him."
"It would quite honestly kill Rogers to even think of leaving you," Tony ignored her flustered protests. "Not going to happen."
"And," Tony rolled his eyes. "I'm not leaving either. Annoying as you may be, you're my family, kid, and I--"
He grunted in surprise as Cerise ran forward to fling her arms around him.
"Thank you," Cerise said thickly, squeezing as hard as she was able. "Thank you, Tony."
"Don't mention it," Tony patted her back uncomfortably. "Really. Don't."
Cerise's lips twitched, but she released him nonetheless.
"And I suppose you haven't told Cap a thing about any of this, have you?" Tony demanded.
"Um, no," Cerise shifted uneasily--her turn to be uncomfortable. "Ms. Carter is ill, and I don't want to worry Steve any more than he already is about everything. He has too much to deal with."
"So do you," Tony shot back. "But I guess I can't argue with this one. Peggy's real sick, huh?"
"Yeah," Cerise sighed. "I don't know how to help, but I--"
She hurriedly closed her mouth as she heard Steve's familiar footsteps approach the lab.
"Hey," Cerise greeted him gently, heart twisting in her chest at the weariness lining Steve's dimmed blue eyes.
Steve silently held out his arms--a mute plea in his gaze.
Cerise slipped into his hold in an instant--understood all Steve had meant to say in the way his arms tightened almost to the point of pain around her.
"She wants to see you," Steve said quietly. "Soon."
"Whenever she wants, I'll be there," Cerise promised instantly, nodding at Tony before she took Steve by the hand and led him out of the room.
"I'm here, Steve," Cerise gripped his fingers tightly with her own. "I know you don't want to talk about it right now, but I'm here. I always will be."
He buried his head in the nape of her neck--Cerise could feel the fine tremors besetting his frame.
"I'm scared, sweetheart," Steve whispered into her skin.
"I know," Cerise said sadly, kissing the top of his head. "Believe me, darling, I know."

Chapter Text

The Common Tongue (Of Your Loving Me)

"Baby," Steve murmured, letting his fingertips spiral slow circles into the tawny expanse of Cerise's stomach. "You awake?"
"Yep," Cerise said quietly, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the night that covered them as warmly as their blanket did. "Something wrong?"
"No," Steve rested his head against her chest. "I was just wondering--when's your birthday? You've never really brought it up."
"Um," Cerise's eyelashes fluttered against the dim treacle-gold of the lamplight. "I...I don't exactly have one."
Steve blinked at her in surprise.
"What do you mean? Everyone has a birthday."
"Not me," Cerise smiled wryly. "No one knew anything about my parents. Not that anyone ever tried at the orphanage--but still. I just consider myself a year older on the first of January."
"Hey," Cerise chuckled softly, touching the instant downturn of Steve's lips at her words. "There's no need to be sad about it on my account. It really doesn't bother me anymore."
"But it did bother you once," Steve insisted. "And you should have one."
"Well what do you suggest then, mi sol?" Cerise pressed her lips to the curve of his neck. "There really isn't any way to find out when I was born."
"I know," Steve pulled her closer to him. "But we can keep one for you."
"Uh huh," Cerise replied, amused. "And do you have a date in mind?"
"I do, actually," Steve offered unexpectedly. "September 9th--your first day here."
"I--oh," Cerise breathed out in shock. "You remembered?"
Steve rolled his eyes.
"Of course I did," he tapped her nose playfully. "My life was never the same since. How could I not?"
"Yours wasn't the only one," Cerise whispered, curling into his side. "I can't imagine a day without you in it, now."
Steve pulled at her cheek.
"That's unfair," he mock-admonished, grinning as Cerise stretched up to pepper kisses across his face. "You're stealing my thunder."
"Sorry," Cerise said mischievously, ruffling his hair. "Can't help it."
"Right," Steve answered, capturing her mouth with his own.
For a moment there was absolute silence--nothing but the smooth glide of their lips against each other--and then Cerise pulled away with palpable reluctance.
"You need to sleep," she said, slightly incoherently. "You've been running on empty the last few days and you should rest."
Cerise didn't say anything further--didn't want to remind him of all the bleakness that surrounded the two of them.
Not that night.
"Yes ma'am," Steve said seemingly obediently--and then threw Cerise an irreverent wink. "Only if you keep me company though."
"I always keep you company," Cerise shot him an unimpressed look--and then promptly wrapped her arms around him. "Now come on. Let's sleep."
"Hmm," Steve mumbled, eyes already half-closed. "I was serious about that birthday thing though--we're going to celebrate next September. I mean it."
"I know," Cerise smiled as she watched him sink into sleep, heart seizing in her chest at the gentle cashmere blue of Steve's eyes--at how much he'd thought about her over something as inconsequential as her birthday. "Thank you, darling."

~~~

Even in her unconsciousness, Cerise was somehow able to sense when Steve pulled away from her.
"Where're you going?" She slurred, eyes barely open, still smeared with sleep.
Steve halted in surprise.
"Hey, sweetheart," he bent down to kiss her forehead. "Sorry I woke you. It's still pretty early, you can go back to sleep."
" 'S'fine," Cerise said thickly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I'm up now."
"Okay, I'm gonna shower first if that's fine," Steve told her, already shrugging off his cotton t-shirt.
Cerise gulped as his naked back came into view--fingers itching to trace the divots in his spine.
"Or," Cerise suggested slowly. "Maybe I could join you?"
Steve froze.
There was a beat of silence, and Cerise hastily opened her mouth, ready to take it back--
And then she yelped in alarm as Steve turned around to swing her up in his arms.
"Did you really think," Steve asked, the rasp in his voice suddenly very evident as he walked out the door: "That I would say no?"
"Maybe a little," Cerise breathlessly replied--gasping as Steve pressed her up against the cool glass of the shower stall.
"Then you're an idiot," Steve said roughly, pulling off the wisps of her lavender negligee in one swift motion.
Goosebumps broke across Cerise's skin as her clothes slipped off along with his--though that had more to do with Steve's hungry, weighted eyes pinning her to motionlessness, than the cold air wafting between them.
He gathered her against him, the warm spray of water cascading over the slope of their shoulders.
Cerise folded like liquid silk into his arms, shivering as he nipped sharply at her earlobe.
She barely felt the heat of the water sliding over her--it paled in comparison to the singeing trail of kisses Steve left on her sensitive skin.
Steve lowered his head, the gold threads of his hair turned to brass under the shower.
He mouthed across the lines of her collarbone--bent down to lave his tongue over Cerise's stiffened breasts.
She arched her back, almost about to drift into the moment--
Steve's fingers slipped below her stomach.
And then Cerise stopped him, twining her hand around his own.
Steve blinked numbly at her.
"Do you--not want me to--"
"I think," Cerise's lips barely moved as she spoke. "I've been a little selfish. Let me take care of you today, mi sol."
Steve stared at her in confusion, uncomprehending--
Until she sunk down to her knees before him, and his eyes blew wide in shock.
"Sweetheart," Steve's throat tightened almost painfully. "You don't have to--"
"I want to," Cerise said firmly--and Steve's mouth turned dry at her heavy, half-lidded gaze.
His muscles tensed in anticipation as she wrapped her slick hand around him, cursing as she thumbed across his swollen tip.
Steve's breath turned shallow as Cerise licked a long stripe down the length of him.
And then he was reeling--
Reeling being encased in the velvet warmth of her mouth.
"Fuck," Steve groaned, chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fuck, baby, I--"
The rest of the words died on his lips as Cerise took him in entirely--and then he was conscious of nothing save the tight, wet heat of her mouth around him--the slow, torturous drag of her tongue on him sending shocks of lightning traveling down his spine.
Cerise felt her core pulse in response to the string of low, half-choked moans falling from Steve's mouth--she'd never heard him sound quite like that before--that desperate.
That uncontrolled.
The rush of it was all-consuming--as was the way Steve's hand fisted around her hair, the roughness making Cerise's breath hitch.
Cerise tightened her lips around him--and the friction of it was unbearable---Steve's hand faltered and fell away as he shuddered, nearly at breaking point.
He groaned at the burn coursing through him--hastening with each trembling second.
And then the sight of Cerise was too much for Steve--
The inky fall of her hair sticking like soot to her neck--the smoke of her hooded eyes, so dark they were almost black as they raised themselves to meet his gaze.
Steve couldn't control it--tried to pull himself away from Cerise as he felt himself come--
But she didn't let him.
Steve hissed at the pleasurable sting of her fingernails digging into his thighs--the headiness hitting him in waves as he saw Cerise's throat bob and then definitively swallow.
He pulled Cerise up against his chest the second she released him.
"God," Steve panted, tasting himself on her tongue. "You're--you're going to be the death of me."
"Seems fair," Cerise chuckled, and Steve's cheeks flushed at the rough throatiness that now pervaded her voice. "It's exactly how I feel about you."
"Hey," Cerise trapped Steve's hands as they moved over and up her stomach. "Today is about you."
"But--"
"No buts," Cerise ignored Steve's protests as she soaped up her hands. "Let me spoil you a little."
She gently rubbed the shampoo into his hair--smiling indulgently as Steve's shoulders instantly drooped as she massaged his scalp.
"You're being extremely pushy," he grumbled anyway.
"Pretty sure you liked it," Cerise said pointedly--laughing at Steve's blush as he averted his gaze.
She curled contentedly into Steve's hold as he carried her out of the bathroom once they were both clean--carefully toweling her dry.
"Oh, baby," Steve breathed, suddenly noticing the red splotches spread across her knees. "You have bruises, I'm so sorry--"
"Don't be," Cerise shook her head in earnest. "I wanted to and I enjoyed it."
"I'm going to show you exactly how much I appreciate this," Steve promised, kissing away the ache with the soft of his lips. "Very soon--and very thoroughly."
"Mmm," Cerise grinned into the curve of his neck. "No complaints from me on that."

Chapter Text

The War Outside Our Door (Keeps Raging On)

"This--is--" Cerise had some difficulty getting the words out as Steve's hands dug into the small of her back. "Some--some thank you."
"I told you I would," Steve reminded her gently, firmly kneading her muscles until Cerise turned pliant and pleading under his fingers.
She couldn't help letting out a tiny, helpless moan when Steve almost molded her into the mattress.
He stilled--
And then his hands resumed their movement again, rougher and more insistent than before.
Cerise trembled as she felt his lips at the base of her spine--
And then tumbled off the bed in alarm as there came a loud banging on her bedroom door.
"Stop whatever you're doing in there and come out!" Tony bellowed. "Thor is back."
Both Steve and Cerise froze.

~~~

The tension in the room thickened to the point that it seemed almost solid.
Thor's face was gravely hooded--it filled Cerise with a deep sense of unease.
"What have you found out, Thor?" Steve finally broke the brittle silence,
"Not much of significance," Thor's lips thinned. "There are next to no records or accounts of the brothers' origins, history or motives--but I searched our archives for weeks. And I found this."
He slid the thick papyrus scroll to the middle of the table.
Cerise unfurled it with unsteady hands--revealing the charcoal outline of two cloaked figures hunched over a cauldron.
She dropped the paper with numb fingers when she saw their carefully painted eyes, glowing blinding white.
The same white hers had been, that awful day with Fury on the rooftop.
The knowledge settled over Cerise's skin like droplets of frost.
"They use magic," Thor said, perhaps unnecessarily. "Nothing that can be defined--or predicted. Like hers."
"She is nothing like them," Steve spat instantly, though the ire in his voice melted away immediately as he turned to look at Cerise. "Sweetheart--"
But she had already vaulted off the chair, turning on her heel to leave--
"Wait," Thor stopped her, beckoning her back. "This needs to be said. There is no way to trace what Quotho and Jhago will do next--or how and when they will use their magic--or what they want to do to you."
"So I brought this back for you."
The Asgardian extended his hand, and Cerise peered in confusion at the circular black pellet resting on his palm, barely half the size of a coin.
"I do not think there is anyone here who would not fight to the death to protect you," Thor said slowly. "But if you ever get captured--take this. You'll die in a matter of minutes. Painlessly."
Steve knocked over the table in his bid to snatch the pill away.
"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU," he fumed at Thor. "How dare you try and give her this as if you've already resigned yourself to her dying--"
"Steve," Cerise murmured, throat closing in around itself. "That's not what he's saying at all. Give me--"
"No," Steve's lips hardened into a grim line. "No way in hell."
Cerise met his gaze evenly.
"Would you rather they torture me again and use me for experimentation?"
Steve flinched violently away from the bleakness in Cerise's tone.
"They--they won't get the chance," he said finally when he found his voice again. "They won't--"
"Steve," Cerise said through gritted teeth. "This isn't your decision to make."
"Give. Me. The. Pill."
And he exploded.
"NO!" Steve roared, blind panic obscuring all else from his mind. "THERE IS NO WAY I'M LETTING YOU TAKE THIS!"
He regretted it the second Cerise blanched away from him--knew she didn't like loud voices--knew.
Steve opened his mouth to apologize--
But Cerise had snapped too.
"Who gave you the right to decide what's right for me and what isn't?" She hissed, even though the words burned her on their way out. "Who are you to tell me what to do, Steve?"
The words hit him like a blow to the chest--the pellet fell from his stunned hands amidst the silence simmering around them.
"No one at all, apparently," Steve said stiffly.
And walked out of the room.

~~~

Cerise paced down the floor of her bedroom--the sharp patter of the rain outside only serving to accentuate the grey gloom that had wrapped a mantle around the compound.
She knew Steve had been equally to blame--but the guilt gnawed at her stomach.
They had never exactly fought--not really.
And never quite like this.
She shouldn't have said what she had--and she would have gone to him in a trice--
But Steve had barred his door.
And would he even let her talk to him?
Cerise buried her face in her hands--she could feel her headache grinding into her temples like gravel.
The laze-filled morning she'd spent with him seemed light years away now--
She'd never for a second thought the day would turn out like this.
The wind bayed outside like the call of a pack-less wolf.
Steve's shocked, white face swam in front of Cerise's eyes--
And she couldn't stand still any longer--
Cerise leapt to her feet and was out the door in a second--and found herself nearly crashing into Tony.
She knew instantly by the taut lines of Tony's face that something was very, very wrong.
"Kid," Tony said slowly, as if measuring out the burden of his words. "I just got the news. Peggy Carter's dead."
Cerise was running in Steve's direction before Tony had even completed his sentence--the sight of his room so horribly ajar reminding her of the opening to some black cavern.
She didn't know how she managed to make it down the stairs without falling, deaf to Tony's calls behind her--
Cerise raced out of the compound, heedless of the rain leaving its stinging bite across her skin--she didn't know where she was going--simply trusted the slap of her bare feet against the slick concrete to lead her to Steve.
"Steve!" She desperately raised her voice over the howling storm. "STEVE!"
Cerise finally spotted the dwindling figure of his back--yards ahead and barely visible against the downpour.
He didn't turn at the sound of her voice--and the woodenness of his gait smote Cerise to the core.
She pushed past the gasp of her lungs--had almost bridged the distance between them, when her foot twisted on loose pebbles.
Cerise tripped backward--
And Steve turned instantly to catch her.
Even then--even after--
He caught her.
Cerise couldn't see Steve's eyes through the strands of hair plastered over his forehead--but she could tell from the wavering line of his lips and the tremor of his hands around her waist exactly how much he was hurting.
"Steve," she said softly, the sound a mere vibration of her lips. "Oh, Steve, why didn't you tell me?"
"Because," he answered tonelessly. "If I say it out loud I'll have to admit it's true."
Cerise felt her own tears well at the remoteness on his face as he spoke--but he hadn't let go of her.
"What about our fight," Steve asked lifelessly. "I thought--"
"Fuck our fight," Cerise swore savagely, completely at odds with the light hand she used to move the hair away from Steve's eyes. "You think I care about that right now? I care about you , mi sol--I'm here. I'm here and I--"
She was cut off as Steve crushed her to his chest--could feel the warm salt of his tears mix into the drenched cold of her body.
"Tell me it isn't true," Steve choked. "Tell me today's just a nightmare I'll wake up from."
"Oh, baby," Cerise whispered, heart silently cracking in half for him. "I wish I could."

~~~

Cerise patted Steve's hair dry--tried to wipe all the water from his skin as gently as possible.
He seemed barely able to notice.
"She was the only one," he said bitterly. "The only one I didn't lose from my time in the war. And I k-knew she was ill, and she was old--but I thought she'd stay forever because I--I've never had a life without Peggy in it, I--"
Steve tossed the towel away from Cerise's hand--pressed his face into the cleft of her collarbone instead.
"Just hold me, please," he mumbled into the still-soaked cotton of her shirt.
Cerise had had her arms wrapped around him anyway--but she hugged him impossibly harder--melded his body with hers.
"I'm with you, baby," she murmured. "Whatever or whoever you lose, I'm going to be here. I swear."
Cerise stroked her hands through his hair as he sobbed--fervently wished she could seep Steve's suffering away from his skin and into her own.
Steve lifted his head a fraction, voice rubbed raw and aching.
"Can you sing to me, sweetheart?"
Cerise blinked--and then nodded, cradling his head against her shoulder.
"Whatever you need," she promised--and began to hum, linking her fingers with Steve's and squeezing for all she was worth.

" Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on
Hold on to this lullaby even when the music's gone

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down
You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now
Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound... "

Chapter Text

Behind The Red In My Eyes

Steve was transfixed by the redcurrant tint of Cerise's mouth--there was a slight downturn to them, even as she slept, and Steve hated it.
Hated it more than the circumstances stretching their murky tendrils around their feet--hated it more than the coal-charred briquette of his heart that still burned at the slightest mention of Peggy--hated that Cerise was hurting--
Hated that she was the only salve that made his pain manageable--and he had no way to keep her safe.
His arm was screaming in protest under the weight of Cerise's head--it had rested there for hours.
But the smoky curls of her hair were loose and soft against his lips--
So Steve asked the sun to wait as he bracketed Cerise's body with his--
And drifted into sleep.

~~~

Steve knew he was dreaming. He didn't know how--but he knew.
Sand dunes surrounded him at every turn--the red-gold dust billowing like cinnamon powder against his face.
There was no one and nothing around for miles--until, with a lurching roll of nausea, he spotted a tiny body, curled onto its side.
Steve knew who it was just by the slim shape of her hands--and then he was running, running like his life depended on it--to where she lay.
Cerise's eyes were dull green and lifeless as Steve skidded to a stop in front of her, heart shattering in half at her bare, vulnerable feet.
He was about to touch her--to shake her--to will some life back into her body with his hands--
When a panther the size of a horse sprung from the bloodied sand, seemingly out of nowhere.
Steve toppled backwards on his own feet--but there was no fear in him at the sight of the animal's bristling, jet-black fur.
It was the body behind it that filled him with terror.
The panther pinned him with its blistering, golden eyes.
And then it spoke--impossibly, it spoke into Steve's mind without once opening its sharp-toothed maw.
"Why did you leave her?" It demanded. "You left her once and you have done it again."
Steve gaped at the animal in shock.
"I--I didn't leave," he stammered. "I--who--what are you? The last time--the last time I did it to protect her."
The panther snarled at him viciously.
"She didn't need your protection," it said out of ancient, topaz eyes. "She just needed you to stay."

"STEVE!"
He jerked awake--
Cerise's pale, frightened face loomed immediately into his vision.
"Mi sol, what's wrong?" She brushed a hand against his cheek. "You were--you were crying in your sleep. And saying my name."
Steve stared at her--drank in the glow of her eyes, warm and worried and very, very alive.
He pulled her to his chest in an instant--needed to feel the resolute beat of her heart.
"Steve--"
"I'm sorry," he breathed, hands trembling around her waist. "I'm so sorry, baby, I never meant for you to think you don't have the right to make your own decisions--you do, you always do, but please--"
Steve's voice broke around the word.
"Please don't think of taking the pill--please. I can't--I can't have you dead, Cerise, please, I'm begging you--"
"Hey," Cerise shushed him at once, cupping his face in her hands with alarm. "Hey, baby, shhh. I'm here, alright? I'm not going anywhere, I'm not dying--what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"
Steve choked on his tongue--what could he possibly even say?
How could he tell her he was drowning in a terrible, nameless dread--something so black and deep he couldn't see down to the bottom of it.
Cerise seemed to understand despite it all--she gently cradled Steve's head against her bare shoulder.
"I'm sorry, too," she said softly. "You are the most important thing in my life--your opinion matters so much to me. I just felt like you were encroaching on my freedom."
"I would never--" Steve began.
"I know," Cerise said hurriedly, stroking her fingers through his hair. "I know, mi sol. That's why I'm sorry."
She raised Steve's face to hers.
"I trust you," she told him firmly. "You, and Tony, and everyone in this building. I've kept the pill with me, but I trust that you'd do anything to keep me safe--and I trust myself-- I trust in my ability to fight to stay in this life with you--and for you. I would fight till my last breath to stay with you, Steve. With all of you."
"Thank you," Steve murmured into her skin, kissing along the line of her collarbone. "I'd do the same for you in a heartbeat, sweetheart."
"I know," Cerise slowly relaxed as Steve's breaths evened out at last. "Believe me, I know."
He gradually loosened his hold on her.
"I just," Steve sighed, words coming thick and unwieldy. "I just wish we could escape somewhere. Somewhere we're ordinary people with no powers and no danger--boring, nine-to-five jobs and annoying neighbors and just each other to keep us company. Somewhere all I need to worry about is loving you, and loving you, and loving you until you see exactly how beautiful you are, inside and out."
Cerise kissed his cheek.
"I think that too, sometimes," she admitted solemnly. "I think of some alternate reality where you show up at my door with flowers, and we go out on a regular date millions of people have been on before--but it's still special, because it's you. Because it's us."
"But even then," she wrapped her small hands around his. "I wouldn't change anything about my life--because it brought me you. It's the greatest gift I've ever been given--and I wouldn't change it for the world."
Cerise's eyes brightened as she finally pulled a smile out of Steve.
"I love you," he said quietly, pressing kisses into the hollow of her throat. "Whatever happens, don't forget that."

~~~

Steve jogged down to the lab--shoulders set stiff and tense.
This would be the third in a long chain of meetings to try and arrive at an effective plan of action against Quotho and Jhago.
But they'd made no progress--and it was chafing Steve's consciousness raw.
"Hey," he greeted Tony in a desultory fashion. "Nat here yet?"
"She'll be here in ten," Tony replied--and then eyed Steve cautiously.
He noticed--and then, as Tony's pointed gaze grew, gave up entirely.
"Whatever it is, just say it," Steve said wearily.
Tony blinked owlishly.
"So..." he hedged. "Everything okay with you and Bambi?"
"Yes," Steve answered guardedly. "We talked. Things are good, Tony."
"Right," Tony nodded. "Good, good. Just--"
"Just what?" Steve snapped, exasperated. "Just don't leave her like last time? Just don't push her away? I wasn't going to, Stark."
"I know that," Tony responded unexpectedly. "What I was going to say, before you pitched your hissy fit, was-- don't let this get in the way of your relationship."
Steve stared at him, surprised.
"I know it's a hellish situation," Tony continued doggedly. "But the only thing that can make it better for the two of you...is well, each other. I haven't seen two people with a love like yours--you give Cerise the kind of stability and security she's been searching for all her life. You're the ground under her feet."
"And she--you're a serious man, Rogers. Too sober. But you laugh with her like I've never seen you. She's the light in your life--your living. breathing, happiness."
Tony met Steve's shocked eyes.
"You need to hold on to that."
Steve was spared from answering when the door swung open--revealing Natasha with Cerise in tow.
"Right, so," the spy began--pausing as her phone beeped.
And then she froze.
"Nat?" Steve instantly demanded. "What's wrong?"
Her lips barely seemed to move as she answered.
"It's a message from Nick Fury."
Steve snatched the phone out of Natasha's numb fingers in a matter of seconds, pulling up the message on the screen.
"You are all in danger. Do not trust S.H.I.E.L.D. The Winter Soldier is after me--and he will come for you next."

Chapter Text

Fever Pitch

Cerise recoiled in horror from the ugly, red-ridged scar scrawled over Natasha's exposed stomach.
"He did that to you?" She whispered.
"He would have done worse," Natasha replied grimly, lips pressed into a thin, uncompromising line. "I was barely able to escape with my life."
"Who is he?" Steve demanded brusquely--at complete odds with the gentle hand he ran down Cerise's back.
"I don't know," the spy's body was stiff with tension. "For half the intelligence community--the Winter Soldier is a ghost story. And the other half that's unfortunate enough to see him--"
Natasha's eyes darkened.
"Well, they don't live to tell the tale."
"So what the fuck do we do?" Tony scowled, not particularly at anyone in the room. "Are we setting off guns blazing to Fury's rescue? Because he doesn't deserve it."
"Tony!" Cerise admonished, eying Natasha worriedly as her face turned rigid.
"I'm going," Natasha said flatly. "I know what Nick did was shameful--but I wouldn't be the person I am today without his help. I have to save him."
"I agree," Steve concurred unexpectedly, causing everyone's heads to whip up in shock. "Not for your reasons, Natasha--but because we need information."
"Fury said we were all in danger," Steve continued bleakly, arms automatically curling around Cerise. "That this soldier--whoever he is, would be coming after us next. We're already clueless about Jhago and Quotho--I'm not risking Cerise's safety even further. Fury knows a lot more than he's letting on--he meant something when he said not to trust S.H.I.E.L.D. We need to find out what."
"So Nat and I will go," Steve pronounced in unequivocal terms, meeting Tony's gaze. "Sweetheart, you'll have to stay here with Tony and Thor, I'm sor--"
"The hell I will!" Cerise snapped instantly, eyes flaming green. "I'm coming with you."
"No," Steve's lips tightened. "No, sweetheart, you can't."
Cerise breathed heavily through her nose, attempting to hold on to her temper.
"We just had a discussion on this," she forced through gritted teeth. "I'm not a child, Steve, you can't make me--"
"Please, baby," Steve pleaded, leaning his forehead against hers. "I don't want to fight you on this. This isn't because I think you're weak or incapable--not at all. I can see how much you've grown and improved, and I am proud of you. I am so, so proud of you, darling--but you're not ready. Not right now."
Steve's hand grazed across her cheek with infinite softness.
"Natasha nearly died because of this soldier," Steve said quietly. "You've become so much better, with your magic, with your fighting--but you still don't have steady control--it can't measure up to whoever this person is. I'm not doing this to hurt you--and I'm not trying to take away your choices, sweetheart."
I'm trying to take myself away for a while so you don't have to worry yourself sick over me and how I'm feeling, he thought, but dared not say.
"Cap's right, kid," Tony admitted reluctantly. "I don't like it any more than you do--but he's right."
Cerise opened her mouth, intent on arguing--
And then something shuttered closed in her eyes.
"Fine," she backed away from the three of them. "Fine."
"Kid, wai--"
Tony stretched out a hand, but Cerise had already turned and left.

~~~

"We're leaving now," Steve said quietly, raking Cerise with his intently blue, searching gaze. "Are we--are we okay?"
"Yeah," Cerise said reflexively, not quite meeting his stare. "Yeah, we're good, Steve."
Steve's hands hung in the air like uncertain butterflies, not quite sure whether to land on Cerise's shoulders or stay at his side.
"I just--" Steve sighed. "I don't want you to think that this means you aren't good enough yet. I just want you to be safe, and I don't--"
"I know," a shadow of a smile flitted across Cerise's face. "I know what you think, Steve."
"Right," Steve paused--there was a vague sense of unease within him, a growing sense of disquiet at Cerise's reticence--the room seemed like a taut wire, liable to snap at any moment. "Well, I'm leaving you the address we're going to be at. I don't know what proof Nat has, she won't tell me anything--but she says she knows for certain where Fury is."
"Please don't stay alone in here," he entreated, thumbing across the swell of her cheeks. "Spend time with Tony. We'll be back before you know it."
Cerise nodded silently, cheek cold against Steve's fingers.
Steve didn't know why the need was clawing at his throat--didn't know why he felt like gravity was slowly slipping out from under his feet--like what was between them was about to lose its weight, very, very soon.
"I'll come back to you," Steve bent down to kiss her, trying to press all his love onto her lips. "I promise."
"I know you will," Cerise lowered her eyes, burying her face in Steve's chest instead.
Because you won't be gone in the first place.

Chapter Text

Salted Wounds

"Hey," Tony said cautiously to the motionless form of Cerise, curled cross-legged on the training room floor.
Her gaze remained fixed on the paperweight quivering on the ground.
"Hi," she replied, mouth sloping downward as the paperweight resolutely remained on the floor.
Tony eyed Cerise for a moment--and then settled down with a grunt next to her.
"How you doing, kid?"
She stared at him blankly.
"How do you think, Tony?"
"Right," he allowed, wincing a little at Cerise's remote, tightened face. "That was a stupid question."
She turned her face away from his, willing the paperweight to move.
"I understand how you're feeling," Tony said gently. "I--"
"Do you?"
Tony blanched away from Cerise's sharp eyes.
"Do you?" She repeated. "No one's ever restricted you from throwing yourself headfirst into danger, have they? You built your suit over years of trial and error--risked yourself for it--nearly died for it--and no one stopped you. You've always done what you please, whether it puts you in trouble or not-- Steve's done what he pleased--but when it comes to me, suddenly safety is all you two think about."
Tony blinked in shock at the vehemence in her voice.
"Bambi," he said carefully. "I know you're angry, but--"
"Angry?" Cerise echoed, lips pressing into a rigid line. "Would you be just angry if Ms. Potts left without you on a mission she might not come back from? Would you even let her go alone for something like that?"
"That's different," Tony barked instantly. "Pepper can't fight and--"
"Is it, really?" Cerise whispered, her anger disappearing as suddenly as a summer storm. "You love her and I love Steve. Isn't that all there is?"
He had no answer.
Tony didn't know why he did it--
Not in any way that made sense to him, at least--but it was as if his arms already knew what his mind didn't: that this was the last chance they would have to hold Cerise as she was now--still young and still so sorely innocent.
"I know Steve loves me," Cerise mumbled wearily into the rough leather of Tony's jacket as he put his arms around her. "I know you do too. But what you both don't seem to realize is that I love you back."

~~~

Cerise couldn't feel the pain of her nails digging into her scalp as she cradled her head in her hands--the cadence of Steve's voice already hurt enough to obscure all else.
The voicemail looped back for the sixth time in a row.
"Hey, sweetheart, " came the tinny recording of his voice. "Our flight just landed and we're settling in for the night-- Nat and I are going to track Fury down tomorrow. I miss you already, baby--please don't worry. I'll be home before you know it. I love you."
The frustration seemed to scald Cerise's eyes more than tears.
She'd known from the beginning that she wouldn't let Steve go alone--she'd watched him leave only because she knew she'd be following after him--no matter what it took.
It burned her to know Steve was miles away--away from any attempt she could make to keep him safe--away from the touch of her fingers and the taste of her lips.
She had to be with him--had to hold him under her hands to believe he was really unharmed--that he would remain so--that she could keep him so.
But how?
Tony was watching her like a hawk--and her recent outburst hadn't helped matters in any way.
Her magic was as irascible and unwilling to aid her as always--Cerise could feel it roiling inside her, refusing to come out.

The cold water stung her skin as Cerise splashed it across her face--she welcomed the freezing bite: almost hoped it would clean away her helplessness.
But it didn't.
She could see it reflected back to her in the mirror--the powerless plead of her eyes hooded and hurting.
Luffy growled at her feet, but Cerise did not avert her eyes.
"I know," she said absently, somehow unable to tear her gaze away from the mirror. "I'll take you with me this time. I won't leave you alone again."
Cerise's vision seemed to blur in front of her--the mirror's surface rippling like waves in water.
She blinked furiously--but the gray of the glass was still swirling, a circular vortex causing Luffy to hiss violently, fur bristling against Cerise's heels.
Cerise raised a trembling hand to brush against the mirror--and recoiled in shock as it passed through the silvered surface--
It had disappeared from view.
Cerise didn't pull it back--
She knew what she had to do.

Chapter Text

The Last Night

Cerise was spinning in absolute blackness--the vertigo so all-consuming, she could barely feel Luffy's claws digging into her skin.
She didn't know whether her eyes were open or closed, the darkness seemed to solidify as thick as wool around her as she tumbled through the absence of color--
And then it was over as soon as it had started.
Lances of light assaulted Cerise's eyes as she hit concrete ground hard, heaving for air.
Horns blared against her ears as she rolled to her feet, conscious of the stares being directed at her from around the bustling streetside.
No one seemed to have noticed that she'd appeared out of thin air--not even as she lifted Luffy into her arms, shivering against the cold air in her thin t-shirt, while everyone else flowed around her in sweaters and scarves.
Cerise turned in a slow circle, frantically trying to orient herself.
Where are you , her mind hissed in an attempt to locate her surroundings. WHERE ARE YOU?
Cerise blinked in shock as she noticed the towering building to her left--
'The Meridian', it proclaimed, in emblazoned gold letters.
It was the hotel Steve had told her they'd be staying at.
Had her magic really managed to bring her to him--all the way to Washington?
Had she really passed through time and space?
Cerise breathed through her nose--tried to slow down her gasps.
She could worry about it later--she had to find Steve, first.
There was nothing else that mattered more.
She stepped into the warm air of the hotel lobby, raking her eyes across the hall for the familiar figures of Steve and Natasha.
Cerise spotted Natasha at the same time Natasha spotted her.
The ire in the spy's catlike eyes made her gulp, but she held her ground as the Russian pushed her way towards Cerise.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Natasha demanded, voice taut with tension as she pulled Cerise to the side, away from the teeming crowd.
"I--"
"How the fuck did you get here?" Natasha didn't wait for Cerise to finish speaking, already talking over her. "God, Steve is going to lose his shit, this is--"

"Sweetheart?" Steve came into Cerise's sightline, blue eyes bewildered at the sight of her even as she instantly reached for his hand. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong, did something happen at the compound--"
"Isn't it obvious?" Natasha snapped acerbically. "She followed us here."
"She couldn't have," Steve said immediately, covering Cerise's hand with his own. "How could she have reached here at the same time as us when we caught an earlier flight?"
Cerise swallowed past the knot in her throat.
"I did follow you," she admitted baldly, wincing at the fury beginning to darken Steve's eyes at her words. "I used my magic. I was looking at my mirror and it just opened and I--"
"I thought you trusted me," Steve said tightly, his fingers falling away from Cerise's. "I thought you understood."
"I couldn't let you leave without me," Cerise whispered. "You would have done the same, Steve, I--"
"It's NOT the same!" Steve nearly yelled, muscle agitatedly jumping in his jaw. "I know how to fight and you don't, and you came here anyway knowing you could be killed, and what's worse you lied to me about it!"
"Take her to your room, Natasha," he addressed the spy curtly, ignoring Cerise's beseeching gaze. "I'm calling Tony. She's leaving on the first flight home tomorrow."
Cerise gaped at him in incredulously growing anger.
"That is not your decision to make," she forced through gritted teeth. "I'm not going and you can't make me leave."
Steve's eyes were flaming indigo.
"The hell I can'-"
"Get a hold of yourselves, this isn't the place or time," Natasha snarled, pulling Cerise by the arm. "Come on, kid."
Cerise fumed as the spy dragged her to her hotel room--but even then, her arms longed to wrap themselves around Steve.
She'd come here for him.
Whether he liked it or not--
It changed nothing.
"You shouldn't have come," Natasha said flatly as Cerise stared blankly at the sepia-toned walls of their room. "This is more irresponsible than you've ever been."
"Shut up," Cerise said shortly. "You wouldn't understand. I need to make sure he's safe, I need to--"
"Oh, don't I?" Natasha cut her off, lips pressing into a razor-thin line. "How can you keep Steve safe? You aren't anywhere near a fighter, your magic is unreliable at best, uncontrollable at worst--what can you do?"
"I--"
"You say you want to keep Steve safe," the spy continued inexorably, unaware of Cerise's paling skin. "But the reality is, you put him in danger every second you're next to him on a mission. You are his biggest weakness-- every time you're around him, he isn't able to focus on anything except you--except on guarding you with every fiber of his being, even if everything else goes to pieces--even if he loses his own fight. Your protection, your safety, your happiness--he'd put it before his own in a heartbeat and set his whole life aside in a battle if it meant keeping you from harm."
"You stay on this mission with us, Cerise-- Steve will die trying to keep you alive."
The weight of the Russian's words sunk like a stone in the room--crushed Cerise under its heaviness.
"He loves you," Natasha said steadily. "And that love will never let him do anything but what you want from him. Even if it compromises this mission. Any mission."
Even as she said it, the spy blanched away from the whitened hurt on Cerise's face.
"Is that what he thinks?" Cerise's lips barely moved, the words minute and miserable.
Natasha seemed to realize only then that she had gone too far.
"That's not--he's not--"
But it was too late.
"Fine," Cerise said quietly. "If that's how it is."

~~~

Cerise's hand trembled as it moved across the paper--the white blurred in front of her eyes, and this time it was due to the burning and nothing else.
She'd had nothing to say to Natasha--because she was right.
She was nearly always right.
Cerise knew she could catch the flight the next day--but she didn't want to stay another minute, knowing she was what was holding Steve back.
She'd come here to keep him safe--but she would damn him.
She knew it was true--knew Steve would only look to her and forget about his own safety.
How had she not seen it?
How had she let it happen?
"Come on, Luff," she scooped the uneasy feline up in her arms, numbly walking down the stairs so as not to attract attention.
The air seemed to needle its frost into her skin as she left the hotel--
Cerise didn't know where she was going--just knew that she needed to be away.
Perhaps her magic would work again--take her away from Steve the same way it had brought her to him.
It didn't matter--she just had to put distance between the two of them.
She had to.
The streets seemed to blend around Cerise--the nightlit sky descending upon her like the tread of some strange predator.
She froze as Luffy let out a full-throated snarl--
And felt cold metal brutally press against her mouth.

~~~

Natasha sighed as she saw Steve standing motionless outside their door.
"What are you doing, Rogers?" She demanded.
Steve silently raised the bundle of clothes in his arms.
"It's cold," he said simply. "She didn't bring anything warm with her."
Natasha felt the guilt twinge her as she saw the wearied longing in Steve's eyes--as if he couldn't help but want to be close to Cerise.
No matter what.
"Just come in then," she said tersely instead, pushing the door open.
Steve stiffened at the sight of the empty room.
"Where is she?" He asked, foreboding stealing over his limbs at the sight of the bathroom door ajar. "Where is she, Natasha?"
The spy spotted the note exactly when Steve did.
He was faster than her, though--picked up the paper with shaking, chilled fingers that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Steve, " it read, in an unsteady, wavering hand. "I shouldn't have come. I realize that now--I know I'm only holding you back. I came here because I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you without me there to help--but I see now that my help would only make things worse. You won't think of yourself if I'm there with you--you never really do. I'm sorry. I'm going back to Tony, and I'll see you...whenever you come back."
"I love you, mi sol. Be safe."
"Goddamnit," Natasha swore, before Steve could so much as muster up a response, phone shaking in his hand. "This is my fault."
"What the fuck do you mean," Steve said tonelessly.
"I---" Natasha's skin turned sallow with every passing second. "I told her she was your weakness. That you were in danger every second she was with you."
"HOW DARE YOU," Steve roared, fists clenching in rage. "You had no right, no fucking right--"
Steve's phone beeped twice in quick succession.
Something crystallized in Steve's veins--a cold dread that he couldn't identify.
He picked up the mobile--and nearly sunk to the floor in sheer terror at what he found.
Cerise's frame covered the screen of his phone--bound, gagged and bloodied.
"You were looking for the Winter Soldier, " said the text in unequivocal terms. "But he's found you first."
"Come where I tell you to, or the girl dies. "

Chapter Text

A Whiter Shade Of Pale

Cerise's mouth felt like metal, corroding her tongue as her vision swam into focus.
The burn at her wrists was grimly familiar, the ropes scissoring across her skin without mercy.
She kicked against the wooden chair in rising panic, straining against the bindings pressing against her.
Sharp footfalls came from her left, and Cerise twisted her head painfully--peering past the dim, weighted air to where the sound had come from.
"You woke up," noted the man in a flat monotone. "Would have been easier for you if you hadn't."
"Who--" Cerise could taste the blood lining the seam of her lips as she spoke. "Who are you?"
"Knowing won't make a difference to you now," he said, almost as if he were speaking through her, not to her--to some unidentified presence hanging heavy over the room.
Nothing about him made sense to Cerise--not the hooded eyes blackened by camouflage paint, or the mask that obscured all else beneath--not the crimson star emblazoned on his metal arm--
Nothing at all.
She fought against the ropes rubbing raw against her skin, screaming inside her mind to summon up her powers--
But Cerise's magic remained as immobile as her body did.
"You're wasting your time," said the metal-handed man as he pulled her chair roughly across the corrugated floor. "There's nothing you can do now."
Cerise's blood slammed against the frail confines of her veins, roiling and roaring for release--calling for Steve, wanting Steve--needing to feel the heat of his skin one last time--needing to let him know that he was all that mattered and no fight would ever change that.
It couldn't end like this.
She couldn't let it end like this.

"What--" Cerise pushed past the narrowing walls of her throat. "Whatever it is you want from me, I--"
"It's not you," said the soldier, voice distorted and almost disembodied through the thick barrier of his mask. "They don't want you. They want the Captain, and the Widow. You're just bait."
Cerise trembled at the death-knell of his words, the horror as vice-like around her chest as the cords keeping her in place.
Steve , her mind whispered, almost as if it recognized that it was the last time it could think of him--have the privilege of holding his memory within itself--all of him--his smile, his laugh, his hair curling golden-soft through her fingers in the wee hours of the morning...
Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve --
There was dead silence in Cerise's head as her eyes finally cleared through the dark of the room to the limp shape huddled in the corner.
"Luffy," Cerise breathed, lips barely able to form the word. "No, no, no, my baby, no--"
"It's not dead."
Some sort of change had fallen over the soldier as he watched Cerise watch the still form of her feline--there was a discomfiture to the set of his shoulders, a strange, susceptible vulnerability as he spoke:
"They just told me to get you," he said, mask hanging to the side as his jaw clenched. "They didn't say--say what to do about anything else I found--it's not dead, I--"
Cerise stiffened as she stared at the harsh contours of his face--there was something familiar in the slope of his jaw, a suggestion in the straight lines of his mouth that humor had once curved them.
The mask slipped entirely off his face, and Cerise froze:
As Bucky Barnes looked her in the eyes.

~~~

"Bucky, please, you're making a mistake," Cerise begged. "This is going to destroy Steve--"
"I don't know who the fuck you're talking about," Bucky said blankly. "I don't have a name. I don't have an identity. I'm the Winter Soldier and my target is Steven Rogers and that's all he is."
Cerise's heart shattered silently into half as she beseeched Bucky with her gaze.
Steve had lost him once already--but this.
This would be like watching him fall into the chasm all over again, only this time--
This time Bucky would be pushing her down with him.
"Listen to me," Cerise voice seemed to crack down the middle, mind howling in agony at the thought of Steve's face when he would see this--see them.
She couldn't see the light die out of his eyes.
"Your target is your best friend," Cerise willed herself to keep breathing--keep speaking through the terror buffeting her in waves. "He loves you and he's never forgotten you, not for a second, and you loved him. You loved him Bucky--"
"MY NAME IS NOT BUCKY!" He roared, face contorting into a vicious snarl. "I have no love and I have no name. I am a dog at the heels of my masters and I bite whoever they bid me to."
He grabbed Cerise by the throat, absolute venom in his eyes.
"And I have bitten many," he hissed. "More bodies than this place could fit. I have no heart, girl--and if I did, it has never known Steven Rogers."
"Yes you do," Cerise choked as his hand tightened around her neck. "You could have killed Luffy. You could have, and you didn't--and you could have hurt me. You can still hurt me, and you're not."
"Whatever they've done to you, whoever they are," she met Bucky's flickering gaze head on, fighting past the acid in her throat. "We can fix it. Bucky's still in you somewhere--and we can bring him back."
"Steve can bring him back."

Bucky pushed her away with a curse, hands faltering in mid-motion.
"Why should I believe you?" He demanded.
"I gave Steve a locket," Cerise croaked, throat singeing in protest. "I gave him a locket with your photo in it, and he keeps it with him always. He's never taken it off--because he's never not remembered you."
"When he--" Cerise stuttered through her words, breaking at the thought of Steve walking in to this--at the fissures that would crack his fine-boned face at the last, great loss of his two lives.
"When he comes in, look at it."
"Look at it, Bucky," Cerise blinked furiously past the tears scalding her eyes. "Please, I am begging you."
"Just look."

Chapter Text

Friend To The Wounded Heart

Cerise's breath scraped her lungs like the serrated edge of a knife--she couldn't stand to look at Bucky anymore--not when the face she had always associated with the very best in Steve was now so blank, so bare--so barren of any warmth.
Time seemed to trickle between them as slowly as a drought-ridden river--
Bucky's hollow eyes made Cerise's throat as dry as the acrid desert wind.
Again and again, her eyes fell to the pitifully small form of Luffy, still helplessly curled to the side of the room.
Pain pulsed at Cerise's wrists--the burning in her arms less due to the angry bite of the rope, and more to the incessant ache to cradle Luffy to her chest.
She flinched as Bucky rose to his feet, bracing for something, anything--
And blinked in surprise as he lifted Luffy with a carefulness completely incongruent with the hard lines of his hands, placing the unconscious feline onto Cerise's lap.
"I--"
"Don't," Bucky said tightly, cutting Cerise off as he withdrew. "I'm not doing you any favors. And even if I was, it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference."
Cerise closed her eyes against the truth of Bucky's words, burying her face in the familiar softness of Luffy's fur instead.
Steve , entreated her lacerated heart--and Cerise felt it wrench into two.
Half of it was keening for him--longing to breathe in tandem with the beat of his heart--to feel the heat of his hands around her own.
And the other half--the other half prayed he would never walk through the door--never have to see the memory of his best friend shorn of all its solace--never have to choose between the loss of his love or the loss of his brother.
Cerise's breath lodged like a shard of glass in her throat as she heard thundering footfalls racing their way to her--sensed rather than saw Bucky too, stiffen at the sound.
Each thud seemed to reverberate into the very sinews of Cerise's body--like the toll of some ancient church bell heralding the death of the best and last of her life.

Thud.
Thud.
Thud.

And then there he was---the way Cerise had never seen him, wild-eyed and bloodied, the gold of his hair darkened to a dull bronze with sweat.
He noticed her at once--even then, she was the first thing he ever saw in a room.
In any room.
In every room.
"Steve," Cerise murmured, the ache of pronouncing his name sharper than the sudden cut of the knife at her throat.
"Steve," her voice cracked apart in its search for some way to stop the pain before it stemmed into his eyes--
But it was too late.
"Bucky?" Steve whispered, letting the name fall like a benediction over the air of the room.
"Buck?" He asked again, face so crushingly childlike, so cruelly confused, it made Cerise choke to see it. "How--why are you--"
"I don't know who you're talking about," Bucky said savagely--and then they were fighting.
Or rather, Bucky was fighting--
Steve went down without a hint of protest, still stunned at his presence--still drinking in the sight of him, whole and unharmed and alive after all this time.
Bucky hit him full in the face, blood fanning out like the petals from some macabre flower.
Cerise screamed--felt like her throat was shredding itself to pieces--didn't even know what she was saying--
All that mattered was that she had to get to Steve.
She had to.
Cerise could feel her mind clawing itself apart--desperately trying to find the abyss that hid her magic and rip it out somehow--
But it didn't.
Blood trickled down from her nose--and it was only when Steve stared at her, heartsick and weary and oh-so scared, that Cerise realized what she'd been screaming.
'Locket', she'd been repeating, over and over again. 'Bucky, please, locket.'
Bucky didn't stop raining blows down on Steve, his skin purpling as easily as bruised fruit under Bucky's metal fist.
But something in Steve's open, unresisting face stymied him--something in the green, vulnerable plead of Cerise's eyes stayed his hand.
Bucky slammed Steve against the wall, wrenching at the chain around his throat with a brutality that cut Cerise to the quick.
He froze as he popped open the catch, staring at himself in the small silver face of the locket.
"What is this?" He demanded of Steve, pinning him with his steel arm. "Who are you?"
"I'm--" Steve rasped past the inexorable twist of Bucky's fingers, the tint of his eyes so translucent with tears they barely seemed blue anymore. "I'm your best friend."
It seemed to be the wrong thing to say.
"You're nobody," Bucky snarled, battering Steve's body with a grim sort of precision that made Cerise sick to the core. "You're my mission."
He rounded on Cerise--and that was the first time Steve moved, an instant, almost knee-jerk reaction--something sparking his eyes back to indigo ferocity.
Bucky stalked towards her and Cerise writhed in agony, burrowing into the depths of her reserves for even a shred of power.
But there was nothing.
Steve struggled to his feet, almost crawling to place himself in front of Cerise.
“No,” he said thickly, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “No, Bucky. You want to hurt me, then hurt me. But not her. Never her.”
Cerise was sobbing--the salt of her tears burning almost as much as her heart did at the sight of Steve's broken, tortured face.
The vertigo was hitting her in waves--
And then she stilled.
The dizziness wasn't her imagination--the weightlessness to the air was very real--the ground really was tilting under her feet.
Suddenly the sparse bareness of the room made sense at last to Cerise--it wasn't a room at all.
The corrugated steel--the abject blackness--
It was a hovercraft.
And somewhere in the middle of the hellish fighting she'd been forced to witness, they'd risen into the air.
Cerise didn't know how it had happened--but it didn't matter.
Not right then.
Wild, howling cold was crystallizing through her body as she saw the agony in Steve's eyes as he pushed Bucky away from her--knew it didn't have a thing to do with the blood coating his skin.
She couldn't watch it--couldn't watch the death develop in Steve's eyes with every punch he landed on Bucky--
Knew it would kill something deep in Steve to be able to kill Bucky.
Cerise knew what she had to do.
The clamor in her brain nearly cleaved her skull into two--she could feel the hot tang of blood lining her mouth--but she clumsily pulled Luffy to her side with her bound hands, and gritted her teeth--
Collected all her love for Steve, all her panic and fear and overwhelming need to keep him safe, to carry him through, to see the sunshine of his smile again--and pushed it forward like a battering ram.
The shriek of rent metal nearly split Cerise's ears--glass splintering apart like tiny filaments of frost.
She dived for Steve, struggling to shelter his body with her own as they fell through the open window.
He was doing the same--arms instantly locking around her in a makeshift shield.
Steve her mind murmured, almost sleepy with the sensation of his skin against hers at last, even as the razor-edged wind sliced into her body as easily as if it were butter.
"Mi sol," Cerise mumbled into the nape of his neck as the sweeping green blur beneath them hurtled closer and closer.
Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve--
And then there was silence.

Chapter Text

In The Wake Of His Ashes

Cerise thought she might be dreaming.
She felt as if she were floating, yet heavy-limbed all at once--suspended in some form of half-awareness that kept her eyes closed but her mind open.
Midnight blue pressed against her eyelids, but if she was dreaming....
Why was she so cold?
It was the kind of chill that burnt--froze her veins from the inside out.
Cerise could feel the warmth wisping away from her body--she was so cold .
So, so, cold.
It would be so easy to let go...let her brain drift into the velvet sapphire ether around her...
She could...
She could just...
let go...

Cerise's eyes flew open as she sensed something encircling her waist--
She would know the touch of those arms anywhere--each fingerprint as familiar to her as her own.
Steve , she nearly mouthed before realizing they were submerged in inky, icy water--the tightness already crushing her chest.
She stared at his unconscious face in panic--didn't know whether she was choking from the fear or the lack of air.
The strands of his hair gleamed corpse-white in the swirling, dark water as Cerise desperately tried to pull him up--
But he was deadweight in her shaking arms, lips cracked lifeless and purplish as Cerise struggled, lungs screaming in protest as she strove to send Steve to the surface--
With her hands, with her magic, anything that would work, that had to work--
But nothing did.
Cerise could feel her vision dwindling--body turning leaden under the onslaught of water--
Steve was blurring in front of her, her mind crying out for someone to save him, anyone to save him--
And then, inexplicably, incomprehensibly, she was out.
She was out, the cool wind fanning her face as she sucked in great gulps of air--
Even though it scraped the inside of her lungs like sandpaper.
Cerise dug her hands into silt as she attempted to get to her feet--
And then stiffened in terrified disbelief as she saw Bucky dragging Steve out of the river.
She scrabbled in the dirt, cutting her hands in her bid to pull Steve into her, away from Bucky--
Bucky with his rage and murder in his eyes, Bucky--
"Don't move," Bucky said, liquid trickling down his matted hair as he laid Steve down next to Cerise. "I'm not--I'm not going to hurt him."
Anymore than you already have Cerise wanted to snarl--but her throat was scalding her--
All she could do was cover Steve's body with her own, praying it was enough to keep him safe--
That she was enough to keep him safe.
Cerise shuddered in exhausted relief as Bucky placed the bedraggled, sodden Luffy against her arm.
"Listen to me," Bucky growled, backing away from her. "Tell St--tell him not to come looking for me."
Cerise could barely hear him, his voice distorted through the ache in her head--her body feeling as insubstantial as a paper spoon.
"...Tell him to stay away."
"If I ever see St--Rogers again, he won't walk away from it. I'll kill him."
"Tell him that. Tell him--"
But Cerise never got to hear what Bucky wanted Steve to know:
There was a ringing in her head--
And then everything went black.

~~~

Cerise was conscious of two things when she awoke:
That the air was so clean it stung her nose--
And that Steve was not with her.

She vaulted off the bed--barely noticing the tearing pain as she ripped the needle from her arm.
"Miss Solange, wai--"
Cerise didn't bother to let the woman finish even though she was vaguely familiar to her--stance and suit similar to that of Natasha's--
Cerise barreled past the woman anyway, the slap of her bare feet against the cold-stoned floor deafening in her disorientation.
"STEVE!" She screamed, shoving past the startled onlookers as she lurched out onto the hospital floor.
Hushed whispers followed her footsteps as she raced down the corridor--flinging herself into the first room she could find:

And there he was, face pale and slack against the stark background of the hospital room.
"Oh," Cerise breathed, sinking to her knees as she drank in the sight of his face, cut and bloodied but still alive.
Still so very, very alive.
Steve seemed to sense her presence, eyes slipping open to reveal a weary, washed-out blue.
"Hi, sweetheart," he said softly, smile so jagged at the edges that it cut Cerise open. "Are y--"
She could bear the distance between them no longer--launched herself straight into his hold--tried to steady her breath against the reassuring rise and fall of his chest.
"Y-you're okay," she stammered, feeling Steve's arms settle around her--the most welcome of all weights. "You're okay, mi sol, I--"
"Doesn't matter," Steve said dismissively, capturing her face between his hands to examine it intensely. "Are you alright, baby? Are you hurt? Did--did he--"
"I'm fine," Cerise responded hastily, not wanting to leech away the last of the light in his eyes. "I'm okay, I swear."
She buried her head in Steve's shirt, drawing back in fright as he immediately winced.
"I'm hurting you," she said, upset. "I'll get someone, I--"
She huffed in surprise as Steve pulled her right back to his chest.
"I don't mind being hurt if it's you," he said quietly.
Cerise's face crumpled instantly at his words--she didn't know what to say or how to say it, didn't know anything, except--
"I'm sorry," she stuttered through the tears soaking her voice. "I'm so sorry, Steve, I--"
"Shhh," Steve whispered, pressing his lips into her hair. "You didn't have anything to do with it."
He stroked over her skin until she calmed, swiping his thumb over her cheek as he asked:
"We fell, didn't we, sweetheart? In the river? Who got us out?"
Cerise's mouth tightened--knew Steve could see the tension in her eyes.
"Bucky pulled us out," she admitted finally, alarmed at the instant flare of hope in Steve's eyes. "But, mi sol--"
"Then it's not over," Steve insisted fixedly. "Some part of him still remembers me, and I can--I can--"
"You can't, darling," Cerise said miserably, feeling his hands tremble in her own. "He said--Bucky told me to tell you not to go looking for him. He said it'd be the last thing you ever did."
Steve's jaw tensed, so painfully tight the bone almost seemed to jump out.
"I don't care," he replied tonelessly. "It's not his fault, he's been brainwashed and I'm going to bring him back."
"I'm bringing my best friend back."
Cerise opened her mouth, aghast at the denial shadowing his face--
And then stopped.
It was strange: Steve was a tall man, a large man--but the bed seemed to have dwarfed him entirely right then--made him look battered and beaten in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries.
She could feel the break in him almost as if it were a fissure down her own spine.
"Okay," Cerise sighed, squeezing his hand as hard as she was able. "Okay, Steve. You want to see this through, then see it through. But promise me, whatever it is you decide to do about Bucky--we do it together."
" We'll look for him, not just you. Promise me."
Something shuttered closed in Steve's eyes as she spoke, but he pressed his face into her neck before she could see it, tightening the ambit of his arms around her.

The last thing Cerise remembered before she succumbed to sleep was the torment in his touch--
Almost as if he felt it was the last time he would ever hold her.

Chapter Text

The Things He Shattered

Cerise glanced uneasily at Steve as he led her out to the tarmac.
Foreboding unfurled its murky tendrils within her as she followed him--
There was something blank and bodiless in his pale face--yet to resume its normal color.
Something barren.

Luffy curled protectively around her ankles--shocking Cerise when she bared her teeth at Steve.
She'd never done it before, not once--never showed an ounce of hostile behavior toward him, but now--
But now, disquiet surged within Cerise as Steve smiled sadly at the cat--almost as if he knew why she was hissing at him.
Almost as if he already felt what had changed.
Because something had changed--Cerise could feel the distance just through the pockets of air between them.
Steve's face had always been so mobile around her--soft yet solid and complexly shifting--
Eyes as familiar as the freshly-washed sky outside her window at first light.
But there was nothing she could see in the remote plainness he wore around him like a cloak right then, nothing at all--
And Cerise was afraid.

"Steve," she said suddenly, unable to bear the catch in her throat any longer. "What's going on? Why are we here?"
He stared at her for a long time--drinking in the inseam of her ankle, the slope of her neck--the silk spread of her hair--
As if he was trying to imprint their permanence into the backs of his brain.
"I'm going to look for Bucky," he answered finally, voice chafed raw as the skin around Cerise's wrists. "Today. Right now."
"Okay," Cerise blinked, still confused at the stiffening of his body. "So where are we going?"
Steve sucked in a breath.
"We aren't," he said flatly. "You aren't. Only I'm going."
Even then, she didn't realize: the thought of being away from Steve, of being separate from him--so alien to her that it just wouldn't settle into her senses.
"What do you mean?" Cerise asked dumbly, the beginnings of a chill sweeping through her. "Do you want me to wait? You think you should go first? Steve, I--"
Steve closed his eyes for a brief, brittle moment, jaw locking into place.
"No," he replied, voice cracking down the middle. "No. I mean you're not coming at all. You're staying in New York."
Without me, said the overcast blue of his eyes. Without us.
The sun beat down on their backs, but Cerise's skin had begun pebbling on the surface.
"Why are you doing this?" She whispered, plaintive as a waif lost in the wind, searching for safety.
He was her safety--but he was snatching it away from her.
Steve looked sick to his stomach--face tombstone gray as he raised it to Cerise's--
But he looked her straight in the eye as he spoke.
"He's my best friend," he said simply, as if that was all the answer he knew--all that was needed. "My responsibility. Bucky remembers me, deep down, I know he does--he pulled us out of the river."
"He's the reason we fell in!" Cerise eyes were stinging--pleading with Steve to see reason. "Whatever happened to him may not be reversible. He said he was going to kill you, Steve! He warned you not to come after him!"
"It doesn't matter," Steve said tonelessly, clutching the keys to his motorcycle so tightly it left angry red grooves across his hand. "I have to follow him. And you can't come with me."

"It doesn't matter what I say, does it?" Cerise asked, voice splintering apart around the seams at the granite finality in Steve's gaze. "No matter what I do, I'm always going to be in someone's shadow. First Peggy, now Bucky--how long are you going to do this, Steve?"
"No!" Steve said instantly, aghast. "That's not--you're not--I never--"
"THEN WHY WON'T YOU LET ME COME WITH YOU?" Cerise screamed at last, heart savage and singeing in its betrayal, clawing past the cage of her chest for control.
Steve's face resembled a corpse at that moment--white as bone, leeched clean of any color.
But he answered her anyway.
"Because you're a liability," he forced through gritted teeth, eyes burning like bottle-glass lanterns in the hollow cavern of his face. "Because this is a risk and you run headlong into danger without a single thought for your safety. Because you'll kill yourself overtaxing your power--and I won't--I can't have you die for me. Because--"
"Because you'd die for him ," Cerise realized numbly, a dull ringing in her ears, knees as empty as a winnowed out wind-chime. "Because you don't think you can come back from this."
"I don't have a choice," Steve choked out, his voice constricting around the two of them like a noose. "You--you deserve the happiest of lives--the safest. You deserve the world at your feet, and I wanted to--I want to--I--"
He loosed a shuddering breath, somehow seeming so small in that moment--so very, very small.
So vulnerable.
"And I can't give that to you now," he said finally, silver beginning to bead in his eyes. "I owe Bucky--it's my fault this happened. I have to save him--I'm going to save him. I'm going to--"
"Leave me," Cerise finished for him, the words brimming bitter and unsteady at the back of her throat. "You're going to leave me. For good."
Steve stretched out a shaking hand towards her--face twisting in torment when she refused to take it.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he beseeched bleakly for her understanding. "I lo-"
"Don't," Cerise spat, backing away on unresponsive legs from Steve--didn't know why she wasn't bleeding out: every suture he'd used to stitch together her heart was being wrenched out one by one.
"Don't," she repeated. "Don't tell me you love me when you're doing everything you can to lose me."
Cerise averted her eyes from his--didn't want to see her own heartbreak reflected back in his face.
Couldn't see it.

"Just go, Steve," acid bubbled against the blistering bruise of her tongue. "Just go."
She sensed rather than saw him come to her.
"All my goodness goes with you," Steve's lips quivered against the jut of her jaw. "You were the only light I ever saw."
"Forgive me, sweetheart."
He wound his arms around her one final time, and the sob nearly tore itself out of Cerise's mouth right then.
Her mind was howling at her body--begging it to move, to respond--
To hold onto Steve one last time--to feel the weight of him against her--the warmth of his hands around her waist.
But she was motionless--trapped inside the frozen wasteland Steve's goodbye had encased her in.

Cerise didn't look to see her life turning its back on her--didn't see the way Steve stared after her like a dying man in the desert watching the last drop of water dry away--
Didn't see him break down in the middle of the road, slumped over his bike, uncaring of the hot metal searing his flesh--almost as though the burn was branding what he'd done into his skin: you left her, you left her, you left her--
Didn't see anything, didn't feel anything--not even the buffeting air slapping her hair against her cheeks--
It still cut less than the whip of Steve's words.

She turned only when there was absolute silence--witnessed the blank gray emptiness of her existence yawning at the edge of her feet.
The echo of her love wailed across the desolate moor of her heart--wisped its way into the wounded crevices of her brain.
Cerise's legs finally gave out--she hit the unforgiving concrete with a sharp thud--barely conscious of the pain.
"He's gone," she murmured to the yowling Luffy, salt scalding her face. "He's really, really gone."

Chapter Text

Requiem For A Dream

Cerise didn't know how long she'd been slumped over the concrete--
Long enough anyway that the skin of her knees had begun to abrade: as raw and red-ripped as the inside of her heart.
She was Atlas, buried under the mountain of her own body, and she wouldn't have gotten up--couldn't have gotten up--
If not for Luffy.
The cat mewled softly, batting at her calves--a very human concern glittering in her lamplit eyes.
Cerise forced herself to her feet--body as hard and unmoving as the cement beneath her.
She glanced numbly at her phone as it beeped:
It was Natasha, looking for her and Steve.
Cerise let the mobile clatter to the ground--didn't want to face the spy--didn't want to see the pity in her eyes when she told her what had happened.
What Steve had done.
What he had chosen.
So she walked--didn't know where she was going--didn't see the shadows eddying around the corners of her feet.
But Luffy did.
The feline was snarling--hackles raised in warning to Cerise--
But she didn't notice.
Everything seemed to be reaching her from a great distance--a glass wall between her and the heat of the day, the glare of the sun--sound coming muted through the fog of her brain.
So she never saw it coming--
Until a rough, leathery hand wrapped itself around her mouth, seemingly out of thin air.
"Thought you'd seen the last of us, didn't you?" Quotho hissed in her ear. "Thought you could escape with your pretty soldier."
Cerise struggled in wild panic against the adamantine assault of his arms--she couldn't let them take her--
Couldn't--
"We warned you," Quotho wrenched her hair back savagely, cold silver pressing into the vulnerable vein of her throat. "And now your time is at an end."

~~~

Cerise's eyes burned against the light when the blindfold ripped off--
She knew even from the gray blur around her that she was back in the hovercraft--
The same hovercraft, the same post she'd been tied to--
The deja vu sapped the strength from her skin, except there was no one to rescue her this time--
No Tony.
And no Steve.

Cerise spotted the crumpled form of Luffy, once again--and her heart choked her chest.
For her sake--
"Sto--" she opened her mouth--
And then reeled against the wooden post cutting into her skin, as Quotho backhanded her across the face.
Blood sprayed like fine mist into the air--but Cerise could have borne the pain, had it been a punch.
It would have been less degrading--there would at least have been some dignity in it
"Silence, whore," Quotho spat, eyes flaming as ugly as his words, Jhago watching warily in the background. "You think we do not know what you have done?"
He shook a thin-bottomed vial in front of her face--and the obsidian swirling inside turned Cerise's mouth to ash.
She knew what was coming.
Cerise felt like an insect suspended in ether, heavy-limbed and burning--liquid iron filling her body and her magic out--and neither one would move.
"You can't be cleansed. The ritual won't work anymore," Quotho hissed. "No, your little soldier took care of that."
Cerise bit through the skin of her lip as Jhago plunged a dull-gray needle into the bare flesh of her arm--the blood still tasted better than the defeat of making a sound.
"Except we don't need it to work now," Quotho crushed her jaw between his hands, prising her mouth open. "We don't even need you. We just need your blood."
"But we're going to make you drink it anyway," Quotho forced the potion down Cerise's convulsing throat, vindictive pleasure pressing his fingers into her skin. "For who you are and what you have done. For what you've stopped us from doing."
She couldn't answer--could barely summon up any sense of his words, the screams tearing themselves from her throat like the thrashings of a dying animal--the potion scorching through her veins like wildfire--liquifying her body down to vapor.
Cerise's vision was narrowing down to the sight of the crimson coating the floor--but she could still see the cloth being torn away from her torso--
And the dagger being used to do it.
"This is the disgrace you and your people deserve," Quotho snarled, the blade gleaming as darkly as the ire in his eyes. "Carry the shame through to the afterlife."
He dug the knife into her skin--the flesh giving way like melting butter to the weltering heat of the blade.
Cerise's screams barely sounded human to her anymore--the wail of them like the desolation of winter winds howling through her body.
She felt like he'd slashed her clean in half--there was a visceral crack between the way her body had been and what her body was now--bent backwards in a contortion of absolute agony--even the memory of the absence of pain some distant, derelict dream.
"Die like the animal you are," Jhago whispered into her ear, ripping the rest of her clothes away. "It's all you've ever been."
She looked down at the savaged mass of her stomach---and felt the coils of her throat constrict at the word gouged into her weeping skin:

'UNCLEAN.'

The remnants of Cerise's pride bled out onto the filthy floor of the hovercraft--but she didn't let the tears fall until Quotho and Jhago disappeared from view.
Even the pain seemed to have begun to become its own personification--Cerise felt as if she were hovering over it--watching the ruin of her body from miles away.
It would have been a blessing to give in--to let go--
But she owed it to them to try--to Tony, to Natasha--to everyone who had ever fought to keep her body alive and her happiness beating in her heart--
To Steve.
Steve, murmured her brain, desperately rallying the quiet moan of her magic to a roar--but it stuttered to silence, like the slowing of her breaths.
Steve, she thought again--and even then, the hurt of her heart was stronger than the hurt of her body--the yearning to feel his face between her palms one last time--to bask in the blue balm of his eyes--
But she never would again.
Her last regret was Luffy--that she couldn't save her--
Cerise tried to stretch out her hand--to hold the paw of the one and only constant of her life--but her body had stopped responding.
This is really it, Cerise realized with faintly aching bitterness. I'm going out of this life as alone as I came into it.
Her eyes were shuttering to a close--a patina of gray falling over the slits of light she could still see--
But something lurked at the corner of her vision--a little tendril of light that circled out to life, spiraling larger and larger until it was burning Cerise's face with radiance--
Her surroundings were coming to her in splinters--almost as if they were shot through shards of glass.
They came to her in flashes--
A long auburn rope of braid and a curved scimitar--
The silhouette of a towering man, eyes the dust gold of a summer storm and hair like short-cropped chestnut:
She heard the flowing timbre of his voice, like lake water settling cool into her senses.
"We found you, Corisande. It's time you came home."

The last known thought to Cerise was how he seemed somehow inexplicably familiar--
Didn't feel him lift her into his arms--didn't feel Luffy's fur rub against her hands--
Didn't see the way they stepped into the luminous spirals with her in tow--
And disappeared from the hovercraft.

~~~

Before she was even able to see, Cerise was aware of the heat--it pressed down on her like a living, breathing, force--dried out her throat to a husk and made her skin smoke.
She forced her eyes open--and found herself face to face with the panther from her dreams, black fur glittering in the full force of daylight as it sat on its haunches beside her.
Cerise vaulted away with a shriek--and then froze.
There was no pain--no blood.
She looked down at herself in dazed numbness--she was healed.
Completely.
"Can you not recognize your own Guardian, girl?"
Cerise whirled around at the sound of the man's voice--and stared into the teak-toned marble of his face, the burn of his bronze eyes as bright as they had been in the hovercraft.
"Who are you?" She demanded, backing away from him. "Where are we? How am I--"
Hello youngling, the panther spoke directly into Cerise's mind, rich and throaty despite having no real voice. No greeting for your oldest friend?
Cerise gaped at the great beast--and looked straight into the amber pools that had watched over her all her life.
"Luffy?" She asked in amazement--running headlong to wrap her arms around the panther's thick neck. "How is it--how--"
"All will be explained in time, little one," Luffy nosed against her face affectionately. For now you must take the trial.
"What?" Cerise's head was pounding with confusion--the heat bearing down on her like a battering ram. "What trial?"
"That trial," said the tawny-eyed man, pointing to what lay a few feet ahead of her--what she hadn't noticed until then.
Cerise's mouth was parched with something bitter and sweet all at once as she looked at what rested upon the plinth in front of her.
It was a shield of beaten, burnished gold, a snarling woman's head coroneted with snakes embossed on the front--blazing even amidst the glare of the sun.
It thrummed with some arcane, esoteric power--echoing within Cerise's heartbeat.
"What is that?" Cerise whispered, feet dragging across the sunbaked earth towards the shield by some unknown force.
"That is Athena's Aegis," the man replied, gaze heavy upon her face. "Passed down from the age of the gods to the kings and queens of this land. It is said to fly to only the true rulers of this terrain--and its history has stood the test of time."
"It has not moved in twenty-two years," the man finished slowly--and pushed her forward.
Cerise tripped ahead--struck dumb by the bewildering maze she'd just stumbled into.
There was a brief, lurching silence--
And then the shield quivered--rising into the air to soar straight to Cerise's shocked arms.
There was a humming sense of home in Cerise as it locked into her hands.
Luffy roared in triumph--a clarion call raising goosebumps on Cerise's skin--unloosening some ancient animal spirit within her.
It almost made her miss the brittle-soft voice that came behind her:
"Oh, I'd know those eyes anywhere," the wizened old woman smiled at her out of a weatherbeaten face, saffron robes billowing in the acrid wind along with her rust-copper hair. "You are Gordayna's child through and through--"
"Welcome home, Corisande."
"One true heir to the throne of Nynvera."

End Of Book One