#man fell 9 feet and broke his leg and pelvis

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.9

...Make a Friggin’ Lemonade

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)    x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 3170

Summary: Steve’s dealing, so everyone else has to deal with him; Natasha is the one to take action. Again.

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood, unhealthy coping mechanism, sad sad Steeb

Story masterlist

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Steve couldn’t fight the smile creeping to his lips when he blinked his eyes open, still hazy with sleep, and found you beside him in the cushions. You were facing him, still deeply in the dreamland. On mornings like these, he struggled to find words that would express how he felt about you – they never seemed like enough.

In your sleep, you were softer than ever, missing the radiant smile and laughter that lighted up his days, and he loved this version of you, finding it equally enchanting. You were beautiful, like a mirage, eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks, plush lips parted slightly, begging to be kissed.

Today, he resisted the temptation and only kissed your forehead. Still, you stirred instantly, releasing a content hum only few moments later, smiling as he retreated.

“Morning, doll,” he whispered, his smile growing when your sleepy gaze found his and the corners of your lips automatically curled up as well.

“Morning, Steve. Slept well?”

You gingerly ran your fingers through his hair, brushing his cheeks with your fingertips and he placed his palm over the back of your hand, keeping it on his face as his eyelids fluttered close at the tender display of affection.

“Always do with you,” he admitted. He wasn’t ashamed of that. He suffered from nightmares sometimes, but they got very rare when sleeping in bed with you – the feeling of warmth of your body against his chased memories of both Bucky’s death and crushing the Valkyrie away, at least most of the time. “You?”

Your hand slipped from his hold and he pouted in discontent, giving you a concerned look.

Steve would swear you seemed paler than just a moment ago. A worried crinkle formed on his forehead when he saw pain flash in your eyes, a bead of cold sweat running down your temple.

“It hurts,” you breathed out heavily and Steve’s heartbeat picked up, fear squeezing his chest.

“What does?” he hurried, sitting up hastily, looking around the room for anything that could relieve your pain, no matter where it had come from.

A choking noise had his eyes return to you swiftly, only to cause him freeze in horror at the sight of blood pouring from your mouth. His heart positively stopped as you grunted, repeating the two words driving him out of his mind.

“It hurts.”

His fingers tangled in his hair in desperation. He needed to call someone to help, you were bleeding for no apparent rea-

Steve’s gaze fell to your abdomen, bile rising to his mouth, his body jerking away on autopilot. Your pale shaking fingers were clutching at the object sticking out of your torso, right above your pelvis.

Accusing eyes full of agony starred at him as his legs gave out and he sunk down the wall; your irises losing all life, face white as a sheet of paper, your lips only red because of the blood otherwise deadly blue.

And weren’t the colours ironic. They matched precisely to the weapon that nearly cut you in half, still buried in you.

It was Captain’s own shield.

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Steve jolted awake with a gasp, tears already streaming down his cheeks, and he found himself in a sitting position, strapped to a chair.

For a second, his mind returned to the god-awful room he had woken up just before he sentenced you to death; almost instantly, the low hum of engines and the sight of control panel of the quinjet brought him back to reality. He struggled to remember where he was going and why was he sitting where he was.

“I’m putting a stop to this,” Natasha announced and Steve’s head snapped to his left to face her, her skinny figure dressed in her Black Widow gear.

She seemed unimpressed with him, her arms crossed on her chest, but there was a flicker of compassion, the emotion Steve learned to hate these past days, because he saw it everywhere he went – even though ‘everywhere’ only included the Tower, the quinjet, the other places he had gone because of missions, locations unimportant.

They were flying to Ukraine now, he remembered, hunting down another remains of Hydra that recently resurfaced. Well, shit. He needed to pull himself together.

“We’re on a mission, Rogers,” she continued before he could ask what exactly it was she was putting a stop to. “Actually, I am. You’re out this very second. You fell asleep, while piloting. You’re out.”

Numbing horror paralysed him.

Absolutely not. Not an option. Steve had to go there. First of all, it was Hydra. He despised Hydra, hated it with all his heart, especially since they— since-- and second of all, he needed to work. It was his purpose. The only purpose he had.

He straightened in his seat – piloting seat indeed – and stuck his chin out, voice determined, ignoring the quickly drying salty pathways on his face. “I’m sorry, Natasha, it won’t happen-“

“No, it won’t,” she agreed swiftly. “Because you’re taking another nap. Tony’s flying in-“

“No! I’m sorry, okay? But now I… I took a nap. I’m back at full alert. I can do this.”

“No, you can’t!” Natasha hissed, spinning his seat and taking the one opposite to him. “You’re staying on the jet and when we’re back, you’re having a vacation.“

“NO!” he snapped, his hands curling in fists. He had to do this. She didn’t understand-

“YES! Yes, you are! This is how you get killed! And frankly, that’s the worst way of paying back for her sacrifice!” she raised her voice as well, gesturing wildly, something so uncharacteristic of her.

The blatant mention of you had Steve grind his teeth as he unbuckled, leaning towards Natasha in desperate hope to shut her up. His stomach made several flips, red spots dancing in front of his eyes.

No one spoke of you. No one. You were his. His to miss, his to mourn, his to-- to-

“Don’t you dare-!”

“She told you!” Natasha thundered, jumping to her feet to tower over him, her hand flying up as if she wanted to knock some sense into him and then it curled into fist in apparent frustration with him. “She knew! She told you to go save the others!”

That was it. That was when the levee broke, the words he craved to scream into the sky finally coming out as he levelled himself with her – overgrown her, because he was taller, his shoulders wider.

“She shouldn’t have! She should have lived! But she never got a say, because I killed her!”

Natasha’s face softened, her shoulders slumping as his voice broke at the one particular word. Steve hated it, closing his eyes just to escape the compassion he didn’t deserve; what more, compassion that wouldn’t bring her back.

Nothing could. He had fucked up so, so bad….

He forced the tears not to spill, his jaw set tight so it wouldn’t tremble. He didn’t want the pity. He didn’t want anything these days and he didn’t fucking care what Natasha thought or wanted.

“That’s not true, Steve. There was no right choice-”

“And I did choose wrong-” he said lowly, only to be interrupted too.

“I can’t be a judge of that. But her death, it wasn’t your fault. I can’t imagine how much it hurts to lose your soulmate, but it happened. And I might not have a PhD. in healthy coping mechanisms, but I know for sure that this will cost you your life,” she warned him, stern and yet kind as she placed her smaller hand on his shoulder. “You need a time off.”

Steve gulped at the idea. He couldn’t afford that. He simply couldn’t.

“I can’t.”

“Why? Because then you’ll have the time to visit her grave at least, since you missed the funeral? Because then you’ll actually get to mourn her?”

“I do that every fucking day!” he spitted out, his fist hitting the control panel, leaving a visible dent in the metal.

“No, Steve,” Natasha opposed slowly, her voice oh, oh so soft in a way Steve had never heard before. It was making him sick and weak in his knees with the need to give in and let himself break again. He had been keeping it at bay since the day he had crushed the mirror, finding out about his supposed other soulmate. He couldn’t afford to lose it, especially not now. He had a job to do.

And Natasha was not getting it. It wasn’t a surprise. She couldn’t. She never would.

“You spent one day unable to get up from your bed and then you threw yourself into work. I get it, you want to drain yourself to just pass out the moment you fall into bed and sleep a dreamless sleep, but you can’t do this. You need to mourn. You didn’t get a chance to come to terms with her death. And you need to do that to move on.”

“I don’t want to.”

He sunk back to the seat at his admission, running his hand down his face. This was an awful place to have this conversation. Disastrous timing. It was terrible to have this conversation in the first place.

Natasha moved behind him, placing both of her palms on his shoulders this time. It was as if she was reading his mind; not having to deal with her uncharacteristically open expression was easier for him.

“I know. And that’s okay. But you need to.”

Maybe. But it wasn’t what he truly needed. He had a task. An order to follow. That was what mattered. That was what he could do. What he could control.

“She died because of Captain America. Captain America is a man on a mission to save lives,” Steve exclaimed, fighting to keep his voice even, trying to close off again. They would be in their destination soon. He had to focus. He had to push the dull ache in his gut deeper before it burst out again and crippled him like the first day. “That’s the only thing I need to do, Natasha.”

“That’s a load of bullshit and we both know that!” she hissed like a cat, fingers digging into his uniform before relaxing again and letting her hands fall. “Not that it matters, because this isn’t a discussion.”

“Natasha-” he sighed.

“I can see how much you’re hurting. I can, Steve. You have every right to. Believe it or not we saw how… how complete she made you. I get it that you’re pissed at yourself. But the only person actually murdered by you is Steve Rogers. He deserves to live and eventually, I believe you can be… not perfectly happy maybe, but at least alive.”

Steve couldn’t. No matter what fate had prepared for him – he couldn’t see himself alive like that again. It hurt that someone did. It felt like dishonouring your memory, everything you two had had. You had been his perfect match. His perfect, beautiful, witty, loving and utterly unique soulmate. No one could ever replace you.

Steve closed his eyes, feeling as a ghost of soft touch brushed over his new soulmark, mocking him and more importantly, mocking you.

“I… I got new words,” he choked out, leaning his elbows onto the dash, taking his face to his hands so Natasha couldn’t see him.

“What?”

He looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of her shock in the reflection. To see how he had knocked the air out of her lungs, her arguments stuck in her throat. It would be satisfactory. Maybe if he pressed further, she would forget about this non-sense of pulling him from the mission.

His next words were as pained as sharp and cold.

“There’s probably someone else who is supposed to be my soulmate. Just like that, Natasha. Someone new. As if she was some… something I use and throw away, only to replace it.”

“Oh Steve, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I know it feels like too much now, but you do deserve that. A chance-“

“I don’t want her,” Steve said simply, voice so full of hatred it would have taken him aback if he cared enough to muse over it.

“I know.” She really didn’t. She could never. “But that’s now and it might change.”

Steve huffed in frustration. Since when was Romanoff stupid?

“Don’t you get it? Even if I wanted her, which I don’t, I have nothing to offer. I’m poison, Natasha. I reached out, I tried to have a relationship once, and she’s dead now. Dead. I’m not doing that to another person.”

Or to myself was left unspoken, but clear as day.

“Sorry to break it to you, Steve, but that might not be your choice to make. If you have the words, you will meet your new soulmate either way,” she exclaimed dryly, apparently losing patience with him as well.

Good. They needed to stop with this oversharing crap and get back to professionalism. There was no space for friends in this business. No space for building any kind of bonds. People died on missions. Steve couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted once or twice. Just a little mistake, moving a fraction to late when dodging a bullet, running just a bit slower, stumble maybe, when running away from an explosion…

But then he always saw your imploring expression, deep sad eyes and he felt guilty at instant. Life was precious. He had already thrown away yours – it wasn’t any more his right to do that same with his, no matter how easy it would be, how relieving maybe.

And just like with his or your life, it wasn’t his place to take over another poor woman’s existence. He had to stay alone. Screw fate.

“Then if we do meet, we say hello and right after, we say goodbye. Before someone does it for us.”

Natasha scoffed, irritation lacing her voice. Steve glared at her through the reflection, barely seeing her. He hoped she could make out his expression.

“Really? You just… send her away?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

“That’s not you being generous, Steve. That’s you being a self-sacrificing and self-righteous asshole.”

Steve grinded his teeth. “Natasha-“

“This conversation is over,” she announced, patting his shoulder. Well, finally. He breathed a sigh of relief. “You get some sleep now.”

Too soon. “No, I don’t,” he opposed calmly as he blindly fastened the straps again.

“Tony’s on our radar already.“

Steve’s eyes fell on the display on the control panel, checking if she was right. The very same moment, he felt a sting at the side of his neck, his hand snapping its direction at instant, catching Natasha’s hand first, feeling for the object she held and tearing it away.

But it was too late – the syringe he managed to rip off was already half-empty. He tossed it away sloppily as his limbs started feeling heavy, his head lulling despite his will.

He gritted his teeth to fight the dizziness, grabbing Natasha’s wrist and using it as a leverage to spin his seat. The whole world swayed with the motion, making him reach for the armrests to maintain his balance; he missed, the straps being the only thing keeping him upright.

He swallowed the bitter taste that gathered in his mouth, forcing the nausea and vertigo down so he could look at Natasha; she seemed a bit guilty? It was hard to tell with his vision blurring, dark edge closing it off.

His ears were ringing and hurting in the way very similar to when he had aimed the Valkyrie to crush straight down, allowing him to barely make out the words leaving Natasha’s lips.  

“And I wasn’t asking.”

“’sha?” he mumbled her name accusingly – or he tried, his tongue heavy as the rest of his body.

He must fight it. He had a mission. He had a task. He must-

The smooth material of her sleeve slipped through his fingers, darkness enveloping him like an old frenemy.

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“’sha?” he breathed out weakly and the spy pressed her lips together, the heart she sometimes doubted she still possessed shattering.

The look on his face screamed utter betrayal, messing with his handsome and worn features, glassy eyes full of unspoken pain. She could only describe him like ‘so fucking tired’ and the tranquillizer wasn’t to blame. This was an exhaustion gnawing his very soul; his body now finally followed as the simple word, the name of his supposed friend, slurred into one barely comprehensible syllable.

Natasha gulped, questioning her decision, the hurt and broken trust in his eyes shaking her to her core. She sighed in relief when he passed out and blinked away her tears that welled unexpectedly. She didn’t count on how much the action seen as treason in Steve’s eyes would affect her.

She had to do this though, there was not another option. This was the only way, even if it meant she would lose his friendship, even if it meant he would never be able trust her again. It’d better be their relationship at stake than his life.

She had seen it on the few past missions – he had been getting sloppy. His movements slowed down, his reaction time prolonging. He grew weaker despite his constant workout. The all-nighters he had been pulling out to avoid sleep and dreams of you were taking their toll on him. There were things not even the serum could fix and this was one of them.

A bullet to his brain or heart was another and it was an inevitable outcome of his faltering skills.

This job was only for the bests of the bests. No mistakes, maximum alert. Anything less meant death and that was simply not something she could allow when it came to him. She wasn’t happy about admitting it, but she grew too fond of Steve to let that happen. She liked him. He was an excellent soldier and great agent, a good person and a dear friend, when he wasn’t kicked so low he couldn’t seem to get up.

He mattered to her and that was why it was her duty to save his life this way despite possibly losing his friendship in the process. Sam had said she needed to confront him; the therapist probably hadn’t thought she would do it like this, but hey, she tried her best.

She watched his crouched form in the pilot seat, the ever-present tension leaving his body. He was going to have a killer headache and a terrible neck cramp with his head bend down nearly to his chest.

Natasha looked around, the cabinet with clean clothes caching her eye. She walked to it, pulling out two of his hoodies; one she unzipped to cover his torso. The other one she folded once more and arranged it to the seat before gently manipulating his head into a less neck-breaking position.

She smiled at her handiwork tightly, ignoring the cold sensation in her gut, fear of this being the last time she could get within ten feet distance to Steve Rogers, her possibly former friend. She delicately pushed away the strand that had fallen into his eyes, her voice barely audible.

“Have sweet dreams, Steve. You’ll be okay.”

As she sat to the other pilot seat to land with the jet, she hoped that he would.

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Part 10

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Thank you for reading! 

(The chapter title refers to the previous one with Steeb... and will continue next episode, stay tuned ;) )