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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

This chapter is dedicated to my black followers and those in the black community that have faced racial injustice their entire lives. I see you, I recognize you, and I am here for you. I will fight for your right and I will stand by you to see justice through. Black Lives have always Mattered. Now it is time for the rest of the world to see that and believe it. All my love to you. 

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: LIZZIE

𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐄.𝐋.𝐃. 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ─ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝟎𝟗 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒

───○☆ ✸ ☆○─── 

☆

                      Carson Mayfield was moving around her large, dim office frantically, fiddling with different things and then returning back to her laptop where she would let out a small curse word or two before doing it all over again. That had been going on ever since eight o'clock and now it was nearly eleven. Lizzie was sat on top of her work counter, criss-crossed, watching her sister's best friend run around anxiously. It was a Thursday, so she really shouldn't be at S.H.I.E.L.D. but she really didn't want to be holed up in the apartment by herself all day. Ever since she got back, she'd been coming in on Thursdays anyway and keeping Carson company (and sometimes, even though Sharon would kill both of them, Carson let her shoot some guns).

"Car," she spoke softly, watching her closely. "Is everything okay?" 

The blonde woman hesitated, stopping in her tracks and glancing over. "I'm fine, Baby C. Just stressed out." 

"Can I do anything to help?" 

Carson's eyes softened. "You don't need to get involved in this, kiddo."

Lizzie fiddled with the dog tags against her chest and ran her fingers along the expanse of the jagged chain in hopes that it would reduce her anxiety. The habit had switched for her. The panic button Carson had gifted to her in October stayed hidden underneath while Bucky's tags were on proud display for anyone to see. Carson had only just noticed it, her eyes flickering briefly down to Lizzie's hands as they held Bucky's name close to her, and she tilted her head intrigued.

"Are those Captain Rogers' tags?" she asked, moving closer to inspect them.

Lizzie glanced down at her chest, swallowing hard and shaking her head. She clutched the tags closer to her. "Uh, no, he gave them to me, though, for Christmas. They were Bucky's." 

There was no real way to explain the protectiveness that she had over the present Steve had given her. It was about more than just the sentimentality behind it. Lizzie could see what Bucky meant to Steve—his best friend, who died too soon, fighting for his country. She felt a connection to Bucky when she wore his tags, almost like he was right there with her, and if she could keep his life and memory alive by wearing his tags then she would until the day she died. Lizzie did not even know the man personally, but she felt like she did.

Carson's eyebrows shot up high, surprised to hear that. Her reaction was just like Sharon's when she found out. Just like Lizzie's when they were handed to her. Then, when the blonde woman saw the expression on her face, Carson stepped forward and laid her hands on Lizzie's knees, shaking gently.

"Hey," she called, getting her attention back to her face. Lizzie looked up. "I want you to listen to me, okay? I'm not your sister. I'm not going to be gentle with you on this. This agency is working on something right now that is dangerous, potentially for you and for everyone else that lives in this world, and I am a part of it whether I like it or not. Sharon isn't telling you everything. I'm not telling you everything...but this is a lot bigger than babysitting Captain Rogers, Lizzie, and your safety is more than a priority for so many of us here. I'm speaking for myself, Sharon, Fury, Monroe, Captain Rogers..." 

Lizzie's heart stopped at her words, making her still in her place. She inhaled, pausing briefly for a second and catching Carson's eyes. "How bad is it? Are you going to get hurt? Is Sharon?" 

"I signed up for this. So did she," she dismissed, but she squeezed Lizzie again comfortingly. "I want you to go home today, okay? And tomorrow. I'll tell Monroe you can't come in because you're sick or something. You know I love your company, Baby C, but I don't..." she hesitated, her eyes flickering around for a moment. "I want you somewhere I know you're safe." 

Lizzie read between the lines. She was trained to. Carson was telling her S.H.I.E.L.D. was not safe anymore. S.H.I.E.L.D. was not safe anymore. Reluctantly, she nodded, pursing her lips and watching as Carson's facial features twisted in contempt and frustration. Then, Lizzie reached forward and wrapped her arms around Carson, squeezing her tightly. Even though she didn't care much for affection, she quickly returned the hug and embraced the little girl with much more strength than Lizzie was expecting—she had to hide the pain from her shoulder when Carson pulled away. 

"I'll go get Sharon to take you home." 

Lizzie nodded, and she watched with a new weight in her chest as Carson paged Sharon to come retrieve her little sister for the day. Now, more than ever, she felt like she was a burden and a distraction to those she loved most—and her biggest fear was that she'd get someone hurt or killed because of it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was not safe anymore. 

───○☆ ✸ ☆○─── 

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂. ─ 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 #𝟑

Lizzie had only been in the apartment for, maybe, thirty minutes. The ride home with Sharon was tense and uncomfortable between them, filled with silence as her sister contained the stress from work and Lizzie sat on her fear and concern. Because now she had to worry about everyone—about Carson, Monroe, Steve, and God forbid anything happened to her sister. The only thing Sharon warned her was to not go anywhere. She got home and changed immediately, putting on a pair of jeans and a oversized softball hoodie from her Dad. Then, she put a hat on her head and left the apartment with her headphones shoved in her ears. 

She wasn't stupid, and she didn't mean to be defiant. She didn't stray too far away from her apartment complex, just found a little bit of shade under a tree nearby so that she could sit down and think. From her line of sight, she could see both Liberty Cafe and the window to Steve's apartment, so she felt like she was in a perfectly fine place. Staying in the apartment, holed up, was not something she wanted to be doing today. The apartment no longer felt safe anymore. Nowhere did. Her brain was moving at a mile a minute and she desperately needed to get her mind off it. 

Today     11:45 AM

Casey 

haven't heard from you in a while, you okay?

Today 12:33 PM

MJ 

nope  

sorry for not responding, i meant to. things have just been pretty hectic ever since i got back. i ended up hurting my shoulder pretty bad a few days ago and i just wanted to lay in bed all day afterwards so i did. steve's gone and my sister's overloaded at work, so i'm just in a funky mood.

miss you ☹️ 

That was another thing Lizzie was trying to subconsciously distract herself from. The more she talked to Casey and the more they hung out, the more she was aware of her feelings and the fact that she may not even have the time to understand them before she left D.C., and something about that didn't settle in her stomach well at all. Lizzie liked Casey—she really, really liked Casey and that was another person she wasn't ready to say goodbye to yet. 

Lizzie's head shot up instantly when she heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle roaring down the street, and her confusion was only multiplied when she realized who was on the motorcycle. "Steve?" she asked, under her breath, slowly pushing herself up off the ground. Why was he home so soon? Usually his missions lasted a week. Not a day. Not even a day. 

Another red flag went off inside of her brain. Another reason to add to the nagging feeling in her stomach that something bad was happening. Jogging over to where she watched Steve park his motorcycle, knowing that he always put it on the side of the building where Sharon kept her car, she cupped her hands and raised them to her mouth. 

"Hey, Captain!" 

Instantly, he turned his head in the direction of the command. His brows furrowed. "MJ?" 

"You're back early," she commented the moment she was close enough, staring at him in confusion. Unconsciously, she did a quick bodily inspection to make sure all limbs were intact. Even though he'd probably regenerate one. "You were gone a while last time. Is everything okay?" 

"Quick one," he said, pursing his lips. "Why aren't you in school?" 

"Professional Development. I have the next two days off."  

Well, she definitely wasn't lying completely and he might not have completely believed her, but he definitely wasn't going to say anything to protest her claim either, mainly because he didn't know what a professional development day was. They sat there and stared at one another for a few seconds before she moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. The anxiety coursing through her body felt contained when she was hugging someone, and she only shoved her face deep into the shoulder of his thick jacket. Steve wasn't complaining. His hands went around her, pulling her in close and being mindful of her shoulder that he knew definitely hadn't healed yet. 

With her face smushed against his arm, she squeezed him as tight as she could. "I'm glad you're back." 

"Me too," he said, rubbing her back. The warm welcome from his favorite kiddo was always nice.

"So..." she only pulled her head away, still holding the embrace but looking at him with a smile. Now, she had someone she could do something with and who had a driver's license. She just needed to take her mind off everything. "What are we doin' today? I've got nothing to do and I'm bored already." 

"I wanted to check out the Smithsonian, actually—" 

"Gonna pump up that big head of yours?" she asked. She pulled away from him so that he could see she was only joking, her eyes soft on him. "Let's go. I want to hear about you and your friends. Took 'em long enough to commemorate Steve Rogers, you know?" 

Lizzie didn't know it, but the fact that she said him and not Captain America meant the absolute world, and she would never know. She moved to his motorcycle, reaching to grab a hold of the helmet he never wore that was pretty much designated for her at this point. (Lizzie could go into detail about the lengths it took to get Sharon to agree to let her ride the motorcycle, but it was actually a quick conversation. Steve would rather drag his face along the asphalt than let anything happen to Lizzie. Sharon knew that). Then, she pulled off her hat to replace it with the helmet, turning around to face him. Her hands were on her hips, impatiently. 

"Well, come on, Steve-o, I don't have all day." 

The ride to the Smithsonian was short, but Lizzie gripped onto Steve like a toddler grips their parents' leg and tried not to go flying off the back. When they got there, she let out a mumbled protest at how many people there were out and about on a Thursday afternoon. The yellow school bus meant that a school was probably taking a field trip, and she just hoped Steve wasn't smart enough to connect the dots about other schools still being open—he didn't even bat an eyelash. Lizzie, though, was quick to throw the hat she'd been wearing overtop of Steve's head, and when he gave her a confused look, she only pulled off her helmet and tried to fix her messy hair with her good arm.

"You'd have fans lined around the corner wanting a picture for hours," she explained. "And I want food after this." 

Steve rolled his eyes at her and adjusted the navy hat, knowing she was probably right. He did not mind the attention, but now was not one of those days he needed it. Besides, it matched his outfit. Lizzie did a congratulatory high five for that in her head. She walked ahead of Steve, a pep in her step that he was surprised to see. Just yesterday, her mood had been completely different—now, she was elated and eager, acting more like her usual self. Steve couldn't help but wonder how much of it was an act for him and how much of it was an act for her. 

They got inside quickly, Steve pulling out his wallet and paying for their tickets to the Smithsonian and shooting a look at Lizzie when she started to wander too far away from him in the crowds. He eventually had to grab the back of her hoodie, keeping hold of her so that she wouldn't stray away anymore in eagerness to get to his exhibit. Lizzie was bustling, constantly tugging on his hand to check out the different aircrafts and planes hanging from the ceiling. The Smithsonian was one thing she'd always wanted to visit in D.C. and now she was like a kid in a candy store. 

Then, she saw the huge (and she means HUGE) poster for Captain America and reality stepped on her. She halted in her steps immediately, and Steve stopped along with her so that he wouldn't run into her. When he glanced down to see why she was not moving, she looked up at him with a frown before they entered and her hand reached around to clutch his hand for comfort.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked softly, her eyes flickering to the banner. 

Steve noticed the large crowd of people that were waiting in the line to enter the exhibit. They were all walking in to see the superhero, the legend. She was walking in to see him. He glanced down at her, feeling the great weight of support she held for him and he sent her a brief, reassuring smile and squeezed her hand. He took the first few steps inside, and she watched his every move in the beginning. His eyes caught the quote in the entrance 'WELCOME BACK, CAP' written as a quote from President Ellis.

"Captain America—a symbol to the nation, a hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery, and sacrifice. Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare—one that would transform him into the world's first super soldier."

Lizzie and Steve walked around quietly, neither one of them talking as they inspected all of the different pieces to the exhibit that was made for Captain America. Some of them were small relics of his time serving, others small videos of him and his unit. She smiled when she noticed the groups of children all eagerly trying to measure their height to the 'Before' and 'After' images of Steve they had displayed. Curious herself, she unlatched herself for a moment from Steve so that she could stand next to the platform, the picture flickering from the tall man she stood next to today to the one before his transformation. Steve was smiling when he realized they were the same height. 

She jumped down, moving back to him and reattaching herself to his arm when he shoved his hand in his pockets. "Told you I could've beat your ass." 

"Yeah, yeah," he said, knowingly. 

Lizzie would tug Steve's hand every so often, urging him to the next location when she saw a distance grow in his eyes. Sometimes, he needed to be pulled out of his own memories before they overtook him. However, she stopped in her place when she noticed a young kid staring at Steve with his jaw to the floor. Lizzie hit Steve's arm gently to get his attention and he turned around, noticing the little boy as well. Her heart swelled.

She remembered when she would have been on the ground crying to see her hero in front of her. Before she knew Steve, Captain America was her dream to meet. The stories she heard were enough to see him with a golden halo over his head. That same look was in the little boy's eyes. Steve, with a kindness in his eyes, raised his finger up to his mouth so that the boy would keep his secret. With a quick, starstruck nod, the boy watched his hero.

Lizzie and Steve shared a look with one another after moving on through the exhibit, their conversation unspoken but they knew what the other meant to say. They walked over to another small memoir collected. He paused in his footsteps when he realized that it was the motorcycle he'd driven back when he was in the war. His eyes inspected it, curiously, then pointed at the front of it. 

"This isn't the real one. There was a chip in the front. Bucky put it there with his sniper on accident." 

"Well, that was rude," she said with a small grin. "Didn't anyone teach him how to shoot a gun?"

Steve laughed, tugging on her to go to the next one by throwing his arm around her shoulder. "He'd definitely get you for that one, kid." 

"I'd like to see him try."

As they stood slightly further away from the rest of the crowd, the automated voice speaking on the particular station began playin: "Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission: taking down HYDRA, the Nazi-rogue science division," and she paid close attention to each of the men standing in formation behind Steve. The Howling Commandos, some who had passed away and others she had spent her childhood hearing stories about. Dum-Dum, whose granddaughter he was now friends with. Men who kept Steve safe. Men he loved. 

It was weird for Lizzie, slightly, to be standing in the science center and learning about the man standing next to her. Partially because the Steven Rogers they were displaying felt...big. Superior. Someone different. More of Captain America, the war hero, than the Steve she'd gotten to know in the last few weeks. Her mind struggled to make the distinction that they were the same person. 

"What were all of their names?" she asked quietly, tilting her head to look up at him under his cap. She gestured to the Howling Commandos. She knew their names, but she could see that Steve wanted to talk about them. 

"Dernier. Gabe. Dum-Dum..." he paused when he got past himself, his right-hand man standing next to him even in the memoir. "You know Bucky. Monty. Jim."

She squeezed his hand tighter. She knew that most of them had passed away. Dum-Dum was hanging on to his last few years, and from the phone calls she'd overheard with Carson, even his memory was beating him as he got older. Steve decided he'd been there too long, and he eased her along to the next piece. Another small video clip of him fighting, flickering from his active duty to when he was just a puppet on stage. 

But then they turned around, and directly in the center of the exhibit was what Steve had been trying to avoid the whole time. Slowly, painstakingly, he walked up to the glass piece with Bucky Barnes' name and picture on it. "Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."

Lizzie could feel the heavy weight fall on her chest, almost like the dog tags held a hundred pounds of pain and sorrow all of a sudden. Her dark brown eyes stared at the picture of Bucky for a few moments—again, she felt that odd connection, her free hand going up to latch around his name as she ignored the tears building in her eyes. Then, when she saw the videos begin displaying just below the memoriam of him, her eyes burned a little more. 

"You look so happy," she muttered as she clutched his name closer to her.

The two men were laughing, Steve placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder. They shared a small moment, looking each other in the eyes, and she knew that they just spoke a million words to each other right then. God, Lizzie wished she had gotten the chance to meet him. Steve's eyes flickered to her and when he saw her reaction, he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead, comfortingly. He rubbed her shoulder and the two of them stood there for a few more minutes. It didn't feel right to leave him just yet. 

Eventually, when Steve started to move, Lizzie followed along with the heaviness still in her heart. They got to a small hole in the wall with a projector, and she didn't have the opportunity to see what they would be broadcasting. Instead, she just sat down on one of the stone seats directly next to Steve, raising her legs to her chest. 

Nothing could have prepared her for who came on the screen. 

The tears were instantaneous, and they filled to the brim so much that she had trouble seeing her Aunt Peggy through the haze. The urge to vomit or run out of the room right then was troublesome, but she contained herself, quickly wiping away the fallen tears before Steve could notice them—he didn't, his eyes having automatically trained to the woman on the screen he'd fallen in love with so long ago. The aunt of the girl he cared so much for today. 

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve..." Lizzie knew her aunt's actions like the back of her hand. The slip-up was obvious, something she had seen personally in her years growing up, and Aunt Peggy tried to remain professional quickly "...Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months. He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would...who would become my husband as it turned out." 

Lizzie's jaw clenched to hold back any more tears, thinking of her Aunt Peggy and her uncle. She'd known that Steve saved him, and it was just another reason why her family valued him so much, and her family would not be her family without Steve's sacrifice—but it didn't feel right now. He didn't look back at her, and she didn't expect him to. What did surprise her and sting her aching heart even more, though, was when Steve reached into his jacket pocket to pull out something she had never seen before. Her lip trembled then. The compass screamed in her face, breaking whatever she had left of her heart. 

"Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life." 

"Steve, I need to tell you something." 

Lizzie's words were broken and quiet, and her mind was racing a mile a minute as she heard her aunt speak in the background. Perhaps it should have been comforting, but all she felt was a heavier weight. He turned to look at her, his eyes sad but attentive. When he saw the absolutely devastated look on her face, he sat up slightly and frowned, concerned. He tried to move closer to her but she only pulled away, curling into herself slightly. 

"MJ—" he started, watching as another tear fell. 

"Please don't call me that right now," she whimpered, shaking her head and rubbing her cheek dry with her sleeve. She flickered her reddening eyes over to her aunt, and then back to Steve. "There's something I need to tell you, and I'm not supposed to, and I might get in a lot of trouble for it, but..." she sniffled, going to rub her nose raw. "You changed my life, and I can't...you didn't deserve any of this, and I want you to trust me and you deserve to know all of this was real to me—" 

His brows furrowed even further in confusion, and he tried reaching for her again. "Emily, what are you saying?" 

"I'm not—" she shook her head, clearing her throat of the dry sobs in her throat. "Steve, I'm not..."

Before she could finish her sentence, or even her round of tears, the bustling of a large crowd coming into the quiet room they sat in stopped her. Lizzie whirled her head around, standing up quickly and alertly when she heard them. Now it was her turn to act on instinct, her emotions heightened and her heart racing a mile a minute. That time, her hand went below Bucky's tags. That time, they went to the panic button—because she was panicking. She was panicking.

Steve noticed that, his eyes focused on only her. He got up as fast as he could, reaching for her arm so that he could curl her underneath him protectively. Lizzie didn't protest, choking and trying to catch her breath and explain herself to him all in the process, but her words were not coming out and she didn't know what to say anymore. Only until they got out of the building, and the fresh air dried her tears, did she finally realize the gravity of what she just did. Sweating now, she pulled off the grey hoodie she'd been wearing so that her hot skin could feel the cold.

Her face fell, and her heart dropped to her stomach. Steve watched as the panic melted off her face until she was completely void of any emotion. He didn't understand what happened. He didn't know what she was trying to tell him back there, but he did know that something was hurting MJ and he didn't know what. He didn't try to comfort her again, his hands staying at his sides even though he wanted to reach out and hold her until she was okay. 

"Can you take me home?" she blinked, her wet lashes hitting her cheeks. She could not look Steve in the eye. 

He was not qualified enough to deal with this. He hesitated, trying to figure out what to do, before he slowly nodded. He didn't protest, even though he wanted to ask a million questions. Grabbing the hoodie out of her hands, he guided her without touching her back to the motorcycle. On the way home back to the apartments, Lizzie didn't speak to him at all and when she got off, she did not even turn around to grab the hoodie from his hands. 

Steve let her walk away, pained, and his only thought was to see the one person that connected their lives more than he knew. 

Peggy. 

───○☆ ✸ ☆○─── 

When Sharon got home later on that afternoon, she was surprised to see Lizzie passed out on the couch, her eyes red and swollen from crying the moment she got into the apartment earlier. Her heart lurched at the painful sight of her baby sister. In that moment, Sharon decided two things: she would never ask Lizzie to get involved in anything S.H.I.E.L.D. related ever again, and tomorrow she would tell Fury that Lizzie was done. She needed to go home, as soon as humanly possible.

Going over to the couch, Sharon pulled a blanket over her and carefully took out the headphones she'd fallen asleep listening to. Then, she went to go grab a hold of their laundry baskets. Her ears only prickled up slightly when she heard the faint sound of music coming through the wall of Steve's apartment, and she couldn't help but wonder why it was on. Instead of worrying about it, she picked up the miscellaneous pieces of clothing and grabbed her phone off the counter, dialing Carson's number on the way out the door.

"Hey. I'm telling him to get her out tonight—" she stopped right outside her door when she heard footsteps, and before Carson could even reply, Sharon quickly changed the conversation. She was met outside by Steve, and quickly closed her door with one hand and held the basket with the other. "He did that for you? That's so sweet. That's so nice. Hey, I gotta go, though." 

Carson's response was muffled on the other end. "Call me back when you can." 

"Okay, bye," was all they needed to say to each other to understand what was going on. Sharon turned around quickly to Steve, giving him a slightly exasperated smile as she waved her hand in the air before throwing it in the basket. "My aunt, she's kind of an insomniac...yeah. How are you?" 

He smiled kindly at her, but anyone could see the weathered expression in his eyes. "Hey, Kate. Is, uh, is MJ up? She was upset when I left her today—" 

Sharon hid her surprise because she didn't know that they had seen each other. Lizzie never even mentioned leaving the apartment. Hiding her frustration, she glanced back at her closed door and then turned to shake her head at Steve. The concern in his eyes was unsettling to Sharon, if only because she knew that the friendship built between them was not just one-sided. She saw that enough on Thanksgiving. He cared about her just as much, if not more, than she cared about him.

"She's sleeping right now," she confirmed, and then she pursed her lips. "It's been a rough couple of weeks for her. Things didn't go too great over break with our family, and she got some pretty bad news recently...I don't think she's going to get to play this season either, so she's pretty bummed about that. I'm sorry if she upset you—" 

Steve was shaking his head before she finished. "No, no. She didn't upset me. I was just worried about her..." then he paused, glancing down at the laundry in her hands. "You know, if you...if you want, you're welcome to use my machine. MJ does. Might be cheaper to use than the ones in the basement." 

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, smiling knowingly at his obvious nervousness to extend the offer. "What's it cost, Captain?" 

He hesitated, and then went for it. "A cup of coffee at Liberty?" 

Sharon would have said yes in an instant, her heart knew it, but the two things stopping her were what she knew must be hurting Lizzie. Steve did not know the real her, and she did not want to get too close only to lie to him—her job prevented it. How ironic. Biting her tongue, she gave him a soft and apologetic smile that paired with her disappointed eyes. 

"Thank you, but...I already have a load in downstairs, and uh, you really don't want my scrubs in your machine. I just finished orientation in the infectious disease ward, so..." 

Steve's disappointment was just as present as hers. He raised his hands in the air, backing away and nodding at the rejection. "Ah, well, I'll keep my distance."

"Well, hopefully not too far," she said, unable to stop herself as she sent Steve another smile. Her cheeks were blushing slightly, and she gripped her laundry basket tighter when he turned around to go to his apartment. "Oh, Steve. I think you left your stereo on." 

Steve's back froze in spot and he glanced over at his apartment. Then, he turned back around to her and nodded. "Right. Thank you."

Sharon and Steve went their separate ways just as Lizzie Carter started to wake up from her nap. Unbeknownst to her that the next few minutes would change everything for her. She blinked rapidly, glancing around the dark apartment and rubbing at her swollen eyes to try and see properly. Didn't work. Yawning, she pulled herself up so that she was sitting upright, groaning and moving to rub at her bruised shoulder with pain. 

Lizzie's ears perked up when she heard the sound of music, an old song that she knew Steve liked to listen to, and she frowned. Then, the music was gone. That only served as a reminder to her of what happened earlier at the Smithsonian, and she felt the dread build up again. She had decided after crying for three hours straight that she was going to tell Sharon she couldn't do it anymore—that she was going to tell Steve tomorrow what she had done. Lizzie, at this point, did not care if he hated her...well, she did, but she hated lying to him much more. And she could no longer look him in the eyes without him knowing the truth. 

She stood up, stretching her body from the uncomfortable position she had been in, and tried to rid her of its tension. Then, she walked over to the kitchen to grab a water bottle.

That was when the shooting started. 

The water bottle was left discarded on the ground, a puddle spilling all over her bare feet. It all happened too fast—faster than her brain could register. Lizzie remembered that the gunshots came from next door, just like she remembered opening the door to her apartment only to see Sharon burst in through the doors to Apartment 4B. What Lizzie didn't completely remember was running in after Sharon, her hands already fiddling with the panic button and pressing down on it hard the first chance she had. 

Lizzie didn't remember Sharon announcing her presence in Steve's apartment, but she heard her voice. "Captain Rogers? Captain Rogers—I'm Agent Thirteen of SHIELD Special Services." 

"Kate?" she heard Steve ask in surprise. 

"I'm assigned to protect you." 

"On whose orders?"

Lizzie didn't remember the next few moments either. She rounded around the corner, her body shaking and trembling more than she'd ever thought it could as she glanced around the destroyed apartment of Steve's home. Then, she got around the wall which hid her from Steve and Sharon just to see their exchange, and her heart fell inside of her chest when she realized who was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Her hands went to her mouth, and she stepped back in horror, stumbling over her feet and nearly tripping on the ugly rug in his apartment that she'd hated so long. "Oh, my god—" 

Both Sharon and Steve turned around when they heard her, their backs straightening. Sharon's eyes flashed with instantaneous fear, her gun pointed at the ground while her other hand jerked to the door. "Lizzie, get your ass out of here. Now!" She didn't remember that being said, only the dead man on the ground that put her where she was standing now. 

But what Lizzie did remember was Steve's face, his face falling heavily as he glanced between the two sisters, and all his mind could register as he looked between them was one word. A word that Lizzie Carter never thought she would hear come from Steve's mouth. With sobs already wracking in her body from trauma and shock, she met eyes with Steve only to remember the hurt plastered heavily in them.

"Lizzie?"

She wished she didn't remember that.

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Author's Note: 

I'm going to leave this here for you to comment what your thoughts are. This chapter hurts, and it's what we've been leading up to, and it was one of the hardest things to write.

Thank you for your love and support. Be safe. Spread love.