"He missed her, a longing that tore deep into him. He resented her. He wondered endlessly what might have happened. He changed, curled more inwardly into himself. He was, by turns, inflamed by anger, twisted by confusion, withered by sadness."

― Chimanda Ngozi Adichie

Steve awoke to find his hand aching from the absence of hers, and in an instant he knew that she had gone, with a loud groan his fingers curled into a fist as if trying to grasp onto the remnants of her, as his other hand came to his face, palming it in annoyance. Of course she left. Laying there with now both of his hands covering his face in anguish, he berated himself for even thinking she would remain by his side, especially after the emotional pandemonium of the evening, it was a given cert that she would leave. However despite recent events Steve had managed to cling on desperately to the wispy tendrils of hope, that perhaps this wasn't the end completely but now Natasha was trying his patience. The words she threw at him in utter disgrace tormented him daily, and it was getting harder and harder to fend them off, to heal the damage they inflicted. He knew that one of the reasons she lashed out was to protect herself, but how much more could he take of this? With a grave sigh and a heavy heart Steve swung his legs off the bed, and felt the painful dull ache that manifested in his gut, an accumulation of all the anger, anguish and grief that the soldier had been ignoring, pushing it aside for the sake or everybody else, for the sake of Natasha. He needed some outlet to channel his bundle of conflicting and agonizing emotions, as well as adhere to the need for fresh air, for space, to be away from a place that held so many memories of her, of them.

Once changed Steve exited his apartment and started on a run, that he hoped would dispel of the cacophony of emotions that were tugging and ripping at his body and mind. The wind flowed softly through his golden locks, caressing his skin in a soothing manner, as if Mother Nature herself could feel his inner turmoil, could feel the tremors that reverberated threateningly through his composure. The pounding rhythm of his feet against the pavement gave him something to focus on, something to distract him along with the passing scenery which his eyes hungrily scanned, analysing every person, occupying his mind with the strategic thoughts and approaches should a situation call for one. With distracting thoughts and physical exertion Steve had somehow convinced himself that he was fine, that was until he started moving through the park. As he did so he continued his surveillance of his surroundings, and all of a sudden he could feel the excruciating surge of emotions that rose back to the surface, clawing at his chest in a violent and brutal manner. His gaze was drawn towards parents and babies, mothers and toddlers, fathers and sons as they went along their daily lives. He observed, painfully so, as a young couple walked hand in hand, the father pushing the pushchair as they looked down adoringly at their child, their eyes sparkled and gleamed as they exuded warmth, love and affection. Their features displayed absolute bliss and happiness, inciting a deep pang of resentment to curdle within him, and in turn induce him to run faster. It wasn't until his gaze flitted up that he saw the shocked expressions of many passersby, who looked upon him in awe as he sprinted past them with an ease that could only be displayed by a super soldier such as himself. His feelings swirled and curled, trying to unfurl themselves from the mess they had tangled themselves in to; despite this Steve knew one thing for sure. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to run until his lungs felt like they were going to combust, until his legs collapsed from exhaustion, until his entire body throbbed. With that he picked up the pace, and for once he hoped that the serum would allow him to indulge in the suffering he hoped to inflict upon himself. An affliction to match his inner torment.

Arriving back outside his apartment, despite his best efforts his body didn't burn as much as he desired, as he found himself aggressively pounding up the stairs and violently shoving the door open, before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Allowing the cool clear liquid to pour delightfully down his throat, Steve surmised that he had to speak to Natasha, and this time he wasn't playing nice.

Natasha winced slightly as she placed fresh dressings on her wounded feet, causing her head to pound even more than it had that morning. Despite her hung-over state her gut throbbed with vehement revulsion and disgust at her behaviour last night, how her usually well concealed emotions had over spilled causing a catastrophic mess in its wake. How could she have been so stupid, pathetic as to run back to him? In accordance with her internal abhorrence her veins thrummed with anger at the huge unravelling and set back she had implemented upon herself, ruining every progression she had managed to apply and adhere to. She needed control, focus and order, she wanted to forget. Forget the many ways Steve had loved her; forget the way she had loved him; forget the child that she had held... the child she had adored as soon as she set eyes on him. At that thought she tugged hard on the dressing she was wrapping around her foot, sending a wave of sharp pain out towards her toes and up her leg, her eyes closed as she allowed the physical agony to flow over her, overriding the mental and emotional torture she so wanted to relieve. How had she let herself get into this mess? As much as she had grown away from her Red Room origins, it wasn't till now in the stark light of the tremulous and agonising truth of heartbreak and loss that she realised maybe her teachings had some truth.

Emotions are weakness; love allows room for destruction, for defeat.

Her memory threw her mind back to the vivid memories of her childhood, the battles against the other young girls where her handler, with the approving nod of his head, would command her to end the life of her opponent. They were girls, merely children, moulded and contorted into killers, into weapons. At that thought an exasperated and pained sigh escaped from her lips, as she concluded that overall her life had been an utter fuck up, a disaster of all sorts and one that she had adamantly tried to correct and amend for. And this was her thanks? Her repayment? Fuck that. Feeling defeated and positively wretched, she leaned her head back against the sofa back, closing her eyes and isolating herself away from the world she currently despised, trying to block the bright light that caused her head to pound and her stomach to curdle and turn in a threatening manner. Amidst her internal curses and predicament she heard the strong and obstinate incoming of Steve, exactly what she had not wanted right now, she had hoped that according to his past behaviour he would leave her be, but obviously today he had chosen to dispute her expectations of him. She refused to open her eyes, decidedly adamant that to bestow her attention on him would invite conversation, something she didn't really want to be involved in right now. His voice rang out clear, flat and stern against the silence of the room, ringing through her ears and permeating the incessant thudding in her head,

"Natasha, we need to talk... now." Bringing her hand to her face her finger and thumb stroked along her brow line before meeting at the bridge of her nose, inducing a frown to embellish her features as she tried to dismiss the soldier with a curt response,

"Steve please..." However before she could continue his voice intervened, strong and unwavering with the lingering essence of anger and rage that was unmistakeable,

"Don't even think about it, you've toyed with me long enough now... I'm done; we have to talk." A sigh of surrender leaked from her lips as she sat upright, opening her eyes and bestowing them upon the man who she blamed for her recent torment. His eyes lacked their usual sparkle and gleam; instead they seemed dull and lacklustre, clouded by fury and suffering as they bore into her. His lips were drawn in a severe line, his jaw set and clenched in a manner he only displayed when he was furious or determined... in this case it seemed to be both. Placing himself on the sofa opposite, he leant forward his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together as his gaze wandered over her face, over the woman he loved, the woman he was quickly losing. At that thought his expression altered to one of melancholy and his eyes seemed to open up, exposing his vulnerability; his feelings for her. Her features were set securely into an expression of pure indifference, a far cry from the emotional and turbulent woman he had encountered last night, her eyes underlined by the tired traces of grey and her skin void of the crimson blush that had made her positively glow. She looked tired and drained, despite the fact her stance and expression tried earnestly to convey the opposite. Bowing his head slightly he took a deep breath surmising that she was not going to be the one to break the silence, to talk, and in all honesty he didn't want her to. He wanted her to just listen. With that in mind he looked up, looking her square in the eye, before stating plainly,

"I'm going to talk and you're going to listen, no interruptions, no distractions, got it?" Reluctantly she nodded in agreement, her steady gaze sizing him up already, deducing his intentions. He knew that she was purposefully trying to make him uncomfortable, trying to intimidate him, and he found it pitiable that she thought she could do that to him after all they'd been through. Pushing aside his disbelief at her current behaviour he continued,

"I'm in the same situation as you, the pain I feel taunts me daily, but what got me through it was the thought that I still had you... That no matter what life would throw at us next; it didn't matter because with you... we could defeat anything. People look at me and they see the strength that the serum gave me, the strength from my life prior to the serum as well as after, but the strength I do have, that I prize above all is the strength you give me." He stopped, allowing his words to sink in; hoping that upon her expressionless face he could provoke some feeling, some emotion that would indicate that somewhere in there was the Natasha of old. Her features didn't flinch, no emotion were revealed, and if anything it ignited that fire within that he had managed to suppress, the anger and sorrow at the behaviour she now exhibited. The way she had left him, was leaving him, in a slow agonizing manner. He couldn't take it anymore... he wouldn't. Spurred on by his surge of distress he once again resumed his talk, his voice stronger and louder, teetering on the verge of outrage,

"Every day I'm haunted by the knowledge that you're ridding yourself of me, of us, of everything we had. Despite the pain of seeing you like that last night, it proved to me that somewhere in there, you feel something... seeing you like this is slowly sapping the strength from me Nat... It's killing me." Filled with emotion, and aware of his blurred sight, caused by a wash of unwept tears he abruptly stood, tilting his head back as his fingers raked through his golden tresses. Natasha's eyes followed him, her lips remained in a severe line of indifference, adhering to her promise of silence and concealing any feelings or thoughts she may have. Placing his hands on his hips, Steve looked down upon her before deciding to conclude his difficult tirade. His voice had now lost its strength, resulting in a tone that wavered and weakened now and again, in concurrence with his emotional turmoil,

"I need you, but I know that right now you're telling yourself you don't need me... If that's what you want then..." Taking a pause and a deep breath he prepared to utter the words that would commence his acceptance of her removal from his life, and as much as he didn't want to say it, he had to. Staring into the enchanting eyes of the woman he so ardently adored he uttered the most painful words he had ever spoken,

"... I'm gone."