Enjoy!

Steve held a brown folder gently in his hands as if it were a fragile precious stone. He peeled open the cover and caressed the soft paper which lay inside. It felt smooth as if it was made of marble as he ran his fingers around it. It smelt musky and warm and the scent relaxed his tensed muscles. He began to run his finger along the edge of a photo. The corners were worn away and were now reduced to curves. He carefully slid the photo out and examined it's faded picture.

She was standing at the training camp in full uniform. Her hair fell to her shoulders in perfectly styled curls. Her lips were like rose petals, delicate and sweet. She was laughing, her teeth glittering. She had her arms crossed over her chest and a badge on her blazer was glittering. She looked so familiar, Steve could never forget her face. Even after 70 years of sleeping, of nothingness, he could never ever forget the face of his love. Peggy Carter. The beautiful, strong, feisty Peggy Carter. The woman Steve wanted more than anyone. The subject of every dream he has when he wakes up crying.

He wonders if she remembered him.

He strongly remembers one dream. A traumatic dream. One of the ones he rarely has but when he does, he knows about it. It was one of the ones when he wakes up screaming. Steve was sitting at the radio on a cold night when Peggy's voice chimed through the radio. Peggy was on the plane and she was heading full speed towards the arctic ice. She had no choice but to. She had no options. He remembers calling her name and the feeling of his heart being ripped out the minute the radio began to fizz. He remembers the tears and the agony. The cold hard wall of horrible reality hitting woke up screaming that morning, believing it was real. It seemed too scarily real. It was only when he calmed down and began to look around his room that he realised it was only a dream.

Steve was out of touch. He was a million miles away from where he should be. He was in a dream world, unconscious and ignorant. He wasn't where he longed, he needed, to be. He wasn't where his heart was. He feared he would never be where his heart was. His heart was with could say that his heart had died a long time ago. His mind and heart died and wilted with her. He wilted like the flower she was.

He slotted the photo back into the folder and closed the cover. He chucked it down on the table and watched it slide along the dark, varnished wood. He leant back on his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breath. He looked at the bottle of wine sitting on Tony's table. Life would be so much better if he could get drunk. All he wanted to feel was numb.

"Steve?"

Steve swerved around quickly and saw Natasha standing, leaning on the doorframe. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her head was tilted in a concerned way. He smiled at her, sadly the smile was extremely unconvincing.
"How are you doing?" she asked, approaching his chair and bending down to his level. She flicked her hair away from her eyes.
"I'm fine, thank you, Natasha," Steve said, turning to her. Natasha noticed the file on his desk and she sighed.
"Good," Natasha commented. There was a long silence as they both stared at the file.
"I'm sorry, Natasha. I'm being pathetic," Steve said, running his fingers across one of the sharp edges of his desk.
"No, Steve. Just because you're a hero, a superhero, doesn't mean you're not human. That's what everyone forgets." Natasha explained, holding his hand in hers.
"I... I..." Steve forced out, he couldn't form words. Natasha ran her fingers through Steve's dirty blonde hair and kissed his forehead gently.
"Shh, you're only human."