Chapter Text
The city is disturbingly quiet and sullen as you sit in the park. Your body feels as if it’s permanently glued to the bench as you stare at your hands. The hands which are a daily reminder of who was between them months ago. The hands which happily held your new fiancé seconds after he proposed and placed the ring on your finger. The hands which also felt your fiancé turn to nothing before your eyes, leaving the only reminder that he ever existed on your finger.
You returned to the spot where he disappeared daily though you’re not sure why. You gave up hope you’ll ever see him again weeks ago but, you can’t seem to stop returning to the place which brought you immense joy and pain at the same time. You glance at your watch and notice you need to get moving or you’ll be late for your next group session. Mentally willing yourself to move, you begin the walk back to the veteran’s center.
Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one grieving. Half of the world was grieving over loved ones they lost and, being a therapist, it is your job to put your personal pain aside and be strong for them. So, you put on your mask as you walk into the building. Quickening the pace, as to not suffer through the formalities with others wearing their own type of mask, you head towards the main session room.
As an empath, you can feel the tension immediately. It’s oddly quiet, which is unusual considering the breakthrough you’ve had with your group. It was extremely hard at first. No one wanted to participate but, after much patience and compassion, they came around. It feels as if everyone reverted to the beginning again. You rush to your desk, greeting everyone as you passed.
“Good afternoon everyone.” You greet them, receiving murmurs or no response at all.
You approach your desk and set your belongings down, turning around to address your group. Everyone seems to be giving side glances toward a new member, rolling their eyes or giving the death stare. You follow their gaze to land on the reason for the sudden shift in mood. Amidst the circle sat Steve Rogers.
Earlier that morning…
“I’m really over having this discussion, Nat.” Steve said, as he threw the brochure for veteran counseling that she gave him on the conference table.
“Look Steve, I’m just saying that it wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone.” Natasha replied. “I see you every day and I don’t think you realize how off the grid you are. I hear you pacing the grounds late at night, every night. How many hours of sleep are you averaging lately? Two, three? You barely eat anything or hold a decent conversation. You’re either in the gym pounding it out or spending hours on the computer, researching ways to fix what’s happened. You need to talk to someone, and Bruce isn’t that type of doctor. Remember the situation with Tony?”
Sensing a headache coming on, Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, silently willing Natasha to give it a rest.
“So, what am I supposed to do? Quit? Nat, he’s erased half of existence!” Steve responded, his voice raising in volume the more he spoke.
“Bruce is working on that pager Fury left and he’ll inform us when something changes. There’s nothing else for us to do right now. I honestly don’t know if this can be fixed Steve. We’re just going to have to accept the fact that they may never come back.”
Steve feared the snap was permanent, but he still had a sliver of hope for a miracle. Hearing Natasha audibly voice his fear made it real and he was not ready to accept that reality. He snapped. He grabbed the nearest thing he could reach and hurled it toward the wall, causing it to shatter.
“There’s always something we can do, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand or care since you really didn’t lose anybody in the snap. I mean, who do you really have anyway? You don’t have any family. Clint’s gone and Bruce may be back, but that ship has sailed! What could you possibly know?”
Natasha gave him an unreadable expression but, he could still see his words cut her deep. He immediately felt remorse for what he said but she was out the door before he could respond, replaced by Rhodes.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Rhodes inquires as Steve brushes a hand down his face.
“You don’t want to know.” Steve replies as he picks up the brochure and looks at the time for the next group session.