"Please stop! Please!" I plead as I scream, exhaustion making my eyelids heavy and my words slur. Yet every time that electricity shocks me I find myself screaming even louder than before and arching my back as much as my restraints allow. Now, after each shock I'm left to seize slightly on the cold metal, but they don't stop. They will never stop. "It's been too long. Too long." I lose my ability to speak properly, not even making sense anymore.

"No!" My father shouts and huffs in frustration.

"It's been weeks. Weeks." I say weakly, but I receive no sympathy. Not that it surprises me.

"We won't stop until this is done!" He yells and points at the orderly operating the electrical machine. "Again." My father says and my shrieking starts anew. Picture after picture is marched in front of me and I'm asked to identify each of them.

"Who are these people?" I glance at the picture. They liked to show me pictures of the Avenger's, especially Steve. He's the leader so it makes sense, but he's so much more than that to me. At least, I'm pretty sure that's how it was. Everything is confusing now.

"My friends." I convulse and shake on the table, whimpering as they show me more pictures.

"Who is this man?"

"Tony." Stinging pain runs through me and I clench my fists shut to stop the tremors.

"Who is this man?"

"Steve Rogers." An even more intense shock runs through me and I barely feel the wetness of my own tears falling down my face. My father dabs them away as they fall so the electric current isn't diverted.

"Who is this man?"

"Steve Rog-" They interrupt me this time and I squeeze my eyes shut from the pain. I'm hit in the gut to remind me to open my eyes once again. I obey, gasping.

"Who is this man?"

"Steve." I say sadly, holding onto his treasured memory as long as possible. The next shock rocks me to my core and I have to be slapped twice to become coherent again.

"Who is this man?"

"Some...someone. The Captain." I say slowly, words getting jumbled up in my mind. A sob rips its way out of me at the next shock.

"Who is this man?"

"I...I don't know."

"Victoria. Queen. Hey, are you okay?" I hear Tony asking me sweetly.

"Five more minutes, gramps." I mumble sleepily and with a pounding headache. I shove the dream away. I remember the pain well enough, no need to relive it.

"I have Motrin and a glass of water." I hear Nat say. I sit up for that and open my eyes. They're crusty, and I can feel dried tears on my cheeks. I do my best to discreetly wipe them away, but judging by the looks I'm given, I didn't completely succeed. Both of my friends are sitting on the bed with me. Tony is by my side and Natasha is at my feet with her legs tucked under her. Gratefully, I take the medicine and water from her and gulp it down. I look to my right when I hear a creaking and see Steve Rogers sitting there, looking about on the edge of death. Pain enters my head from just looking at him, but the view is worth the pain. Although he is a bit scruffy.

"What's eating at you, Steve?" There's a slight buzz inside my head when I say his name, but otherwise I'm fine. Hope springs to life in his eyes, but there's still a hesitancy to him. Doubt creeps into my heart. "That is your name, right? Steve Rogers?" I affirm and I see the hope deflate within him. He looks down at his hands in his lap, dejected. Instantly, my desire is to get up and comfort him, but that makes no sense. After a moment of hesitation, I lean over and place a light hand on his knee. His head snaps up to face me, making me jump. Tony clears his throat behind me and I notice how much better he looks after some rest. I hope my episode yesterday didn't make Steve disturb him. Tony and Nat stand and walk out of the room, leaving Steve and I alone. I move so that my legs are hanging off the side of the bed and I'm facing Steve. He watches me warily as if I'll disappear at any moment. "Explain yourself to me, Steve. Maybe it'll jog something in my mind." I ask him seriously. With a sigh, Steve leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. I lean back slightly to give him some space.

"We were dating before...you left." He informs me and I blink. Well, I suppose that explains how I feel when we touch, and his disappointment that I have no memory of him.

"I...I remember you saying that! So, tell me what we did." I ask excitedly, happy to remember something. A ghost of a smile graces his lips and I find myself smiling softly as well.

"Dancing. We went dancing." He tells me with a wistful smile. His smile is nice, if a bit sad. I find myself easily understanding why I went out with this man. I'd like to make him really smile. A happy one. I stand and take his hands, pulling him up and away from any furniture.

"Show me. How did we dance?" I let go of his hands and wait for him to take the lead and explain this to me. He blinks once, but starts to move ever so slowly. He places a hand high on my waist, like a gentleman, and places my hand on his shoulder. He takes my other hand in his and, after pulling me close to him, starts to lead me in a slow dance. I stumble a little every once and a while, but he already seems to know I'm a horrible dancer and every stumble just makes him smirk. After a few steps, I start to hum that song that seems to haunt me and comfort me at the same time.

"Um, I know that song." He says to me quietly. I look up at him instead of down towards my feet and am startled by the proximity of his face.

"Oh." I say, surprised. His eyes half close when I speak, as if he's resisting something. "Well, if you know it, could you sing it for me? I only know one line." I ask him, but my mind is on the slight red tint in his cheeks and the way I can feel his breath tickle my lips. He nods just slightly, as if afraid to move more.

"That certain night, the night we met, there was magic abroad in the air, there were angels dining at the Ritz, and a nightingale sang in Berkeley square." His voice is smooth, deep, and pleasant, and as soon as he starts to sing I recognize it as the one who first sang those words to me. The words that have been stuck in my head all along. I let him keep singing as the puzzle pieces in my head collect themselves. "I may be right, I may be wrong, but I'm perfectly willing to swear, that when you turned and smiled at me,"

"A nightingale sang in Berkeley square." I sing the last bit with him and feel tears collect in my eyes now that I remember him. Steve. My Steve. His eyebrows pop up in surprise as we sing together, but his eyes soon clear of all confusion as comprehension takes its place. We stare at each other for a moment, too caught up in each other and our emotions to say a word, then we crash together like waves upon a rocky shore. My arms immediately wrap around his waist and my hands desperately search for something to cling to. I twist the fabric of his shirt into my fists, pulling him closer while also keeping me firmly pressed against him. His arm wraps around almost my entire waist while his hand cradles my neck as I snuggle deeper into his arms.

"Victoria." He whispers against the skin of my neck as he leans down to be closer to me. I shiver and he pulls me inextricably closer. I say nothing. If I open my mouth I'll say I love you. And it holds a great deal more weight here than it did with Tony. I just stay there in his arms with my lips just barely touching his neck when we breathe and my fingers getting sore from holding onto him so tightly. At least until we can't stand not moving. We both move at the same time and push our lips together, I tilt my head to the left a little and he immediately tilts his head to my right, like two magnets. Our lips push and pull, slide and stop, tremble and tickle the other's. Desperate and hungry for him, my lips press hard on his, but he presses just as hard on mine. This kiss embodies all the longing we've felt while we were apart, the trapped passion, the contained lust, we both put all of it into this kiss. We separate for a moment, breathing hard with the intoxication of one another. Our breaths mingle between us as we press our forehead's together, eyes still closed. Our lips are still close enough for Steve's facial hair to tickle my lips, and it isn't long before they're pressed together again.

Steve gently presses his lips against mine, then pulls away, then does it again, and again, and again. I stay where I am, but return each separate kiss with the same tenderness. Steve's hand leaves my neck and rests on my face lightly. My fists slowly release his shirt and instead splay out on his back, feeling his muscles tense and untense. This kiss is for the sadness, the agony, to release the feeling of loss we both felt while away from each other. When we part, a tear slips from my eye and rolls onto Steve's hand. We meet each other's eyes and smile. He pulls me close to him again and my tears are wiped dry by his shirt.

"Steve." I whisper happily, but with tears in my voice. He kisses my hair and pulls away to look at my face. To my surprise, he looks teary-eyed too. "God, this is the best birthday present ever." I say absentmindedly, then laugh. Steve's eyebrows pop up.

"It's your birthday?" He asks, his voice surprised. I laugh again and don't answer. I take his hand and lead him to the bed. I sit down on the rumbled red and gold comforter, Indian style. Steve sits on the edge with one leg folded underneath him, facing me.

"What happened, Victoria?" He asks. While I relish in hearing him say my name, I don't like the question. I reach up and run a hand over the scruff on his face. He smiles lightly, but I know why that scruff is on his face. The same reason Tony let his beard grow out. I shake my head at him, but don't look away from those ice blue eyes.

"Don't think for a second that I don't know why you have this." I say, gently tapping his face with my thumb. His face sobers and I drop my hand from his face. "And don't think for a second that I'm going to tell you a thing about what happened to me while I was away." I sigh. Steve frowns and shakes his head at me.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but it isn't healthy to internalize everything. If you don't trust me then talk to someone else. Tony, or Natasha." He says, concerned. Now, I shake my head at him. I grab his hands in mine and give them a gentle squeeze.

"No, Steve. It isn't because I don't trust you or because it makes me uncomfortable or sad, although it does." I huff and pout slightly. "It's just that...I know you Steve. You probably already blame yourself for 'allowing' me to leave, which was entirely my choice, and I don't want to add another imaginary weight to your shoulders." I finish, hoping he'll understand. His mouth opens slightly, then closes. He keeps thinking, but the longer he takes the more secure I feel in my side. I know I've pinned him and eventually he knows it too. I sigh, smiling a little. "That's one area where you and Tony are the same. You both take responsibility for things that aren't your fault." Once again, he opens his mouth to speak, but this time I stop him. "Ah, no. Listen, have you even sat down with him lately, Steve? He's let himself go just like you. He's taken the blame, just like you. I think the two of you have a lot more in common than you think." I ask and postulate. Steve looks skeptical, but nods once to accept my opinion. "But maybe let's subtract facial hair from the equation?" I tease and Steve grins. I stand and he follows suit. "I'm going to shower." Can't remember the last time I had one, really. Steve seems lost for what to do so I reach up and kiss his cheek and start walking to the door that connect Tony's and I's rooms. I head through the empty room and walk into mine with a happy sigh before turning around and speaking to Steve who followed me like a puppy. "You're free to sit outside the door and sing to me if you like. It'd be just like having the radio on." I tease. He smirks and wraps his arms around my waist, I wrap my arms around his neck in return.

"Is that an invitation to join you, Ria?" He teases right back. My eyes widen until they feel like they may pop out of my head.

"That is surprisingly forward of you, Steven Rogers." I manage to splutter out, making him laugh.

"Sorry, I guess I've forgotten what to do with myself since finding you." He teases me, but with a tint of truth. He sighs, "I think I'll go shave, then see what the others are up to." He hesitates a moment. "Is it really your birthday?" He asks me, blue eyes wide and shining. I smile and nod. "Hmm." He says and I give him a warning look. He laughs and rescinds himself from me. He walks out towards the stairwell with a goofy grin on his face. I watch him go, then turn towards the bathroom. I leave a trail of clothes in my wake as I go to the shower and turn the water on. I grab a towel out of the linen closet to the right, tossing it on the bathroom counter. I brush my teeth as the water heats up, so when I finally step into it I moan at how good it feels. While I have no bruises or cuts from fighting the team, my muscles still hurt a bit from it. The hot water does wonders for soothing them. I'm humming quietly to myself as I wash the conditioner out of my long hair when I hear a light knock on the open bathroom door. Tony wouldn't knock and even if he did, it wouldn't be that light.

"Have you decided to join me after all, Steve?" I say in a playful voice. I'm greeted by an unexpected, and much lighter, voice than who I thought would answer.

"Showering together, huh? Well that's cute...and conservative." I shut my eyes in embarrassment and can just tell from Natasha's voice that she's smirking. "I just brought you some clean clothes to wear. I hope you don't mind, I grabbed a few things from your drawers." Nat says, still smirking. I open my eyes and turn the water off, ringing out my hair afterwards.

"It's fine, thank you." I tell her. A hand appears beside me with a towel in it. I roll my eyes and take it.

"Steve came in like a little boy with his clean face and bright smile, so I figured I'd come see whether you got your memories back or if just shaving really made him that happy." I giggle despite myself and wrap the towel around my dry body. I step out of the shower and onto the little mat on the floor. As I had suspected, Nat's signature smirk is carved into her face. She turns around to allow me to change privately, and I do as I reply.

"Well, my memories have come back to me, fully intact, thanks for checking." I grab the bag she must've brought and slip on some sweatpants, a white tank, and am about to put on a big sweatshirt too when I realize it has a name on the tag. "Nat, is this-"

"Steve's? Yes. Those pants are Tony's." She turns around and confirms. I take the time now to observe what she's wearing. She's wearing black, baggy sweatpants, a brown hoodie that's too big for her, and fluffy cream-colored socks. "There are a couple other things in that bag, you can tell whose they are from the names on the tags. They thought it would deter me from taking their stuff." She shakes her head while smirking. "It hasn't." I look at her with admiration and awe.

"I think I'm in love with you." I admit and get a slightly bigger smirk out of her. I shrug on the hoodie, immediately surrounding me with Steve's bar soap and detergent smell.

"Oh!" Nat says and pulls out some olive colored fuzzy socks from her seemingly never-ending hoodie pocket. Handing them to me, she explains, "These are mine. Only one rule in this place, don't steal from me. I'll get you back for it. Just ask first." From fluffy to scary in a second, then back. Awesome. I nod and slip them on, loving them.

"Thanks, Nat. This is all great." She smiles in response and nods. Then I start brushing my hair, but Nat stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist.

"Can I?" She asks, sounding a little more vulnerable than I've ever heard her be. I nod and she takes the brush from me. Gently, she brushes my hair for me. "You know, I'm really happy you're here." She takes her eyes off my hair to meet mine in the mirror. "For Steve." Nat continues and looks back to her work. "He tends to get lost in the job and I was a little worried he'd forget to have a life outside of it." I stare at her concentrated face as she speaks, absorbing every single word. "I'm glad he found you and has you to...hold onto." She smirks a little at the double entendre, but I'm touched.

"Thank you, Natasha. That means so much to me. Wow. I...I'm glad he has you looking out for him." I respond sincerely. She nods once, brushing off the compliment.

"Do you want me to braid it?" She asks, holding up her hand with a clump of my hair in it. Stunned at how she can just hop off the subject, I nod. I continue staring at her, then switch to staring at my hands when she pushes my head down to braid better.

"He's not the only one who was lost before." I say quietly. I fiddle with my hands, flicking water out from under my finger nails before looking up at her. "Steve, and the team, you all have helped me be something different than what I was made to be. Given me a purpose. I guess it's kind of the opposite from Steve, huh?" I question rhetorically as Natasha's light as a feather touches twist ropes of my wet hair into something beautiful. I sigh, shedding my serious tone and trading it for a playful one. "But to keep him, I'd really rather you not mention that he offered to shower with me?" I plead with her lightheartedly. I look up at her and find her eyes wide as saucers. I go over my words and see my mistake. She didn't know Steve had been the one who offered.

"Wow. Have the two of you even had sex yet?" She asks and I shut my eyes as blood rushes to my cheeks.

"No, no we haven't." I answer her, my cheeks ablaze and my eyes still closed.

"Hey, if you can't talk about this with me then who are you going to talk about this with? Tony?" She says Tony's name with incredulity, as if it's unimaginable. I must say the image makes me laugh and deflates the balloon of tension inside my chest.

"Right, you're right. But first, tell me honestly that you don't talk shit with Clint." I tell her. She smirks and shrugs, admitting it. I look at her and she throws my newly braided hair over my shoulder, then sits on the bathroom counter in front of me. I sit on the lip of the bathtub with a sigh. I struggle to speak from nervousness, but manage to anyway. "It's just that I've never really...I mean I haven't ever..." I huff with frustration. "I've never had sex. Never even spoken about it. My parents really weren't the type to sit me down and have the talk with me." I finally get the words out and Nat's smirk disappears, replaced by a soft smile. "I've picked up the basics, but never saw any point in...practicing them with someone I'd never be with. You know?" I ask her a question, desperately needing some feedback. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, I understand." She tells me, causing me to relax a little more. "But don't worry about it, Victoria. Steve's not a very complicated guy. And anyway, I'm sure he isn't as...experienced as some people may think." Her signature smirk appears again and I grin back, my bashfulness gone. I stand and she does too. Boldly, I wrap a hand around her waist and walk with her out of my bathroom. She puts her arm lazily on my shoulders and my grin grows at the return of affection.

"Thanks Natasha. For braiding my hair, and for the advice." I say genuinely. We continue walking until we're out of my room and heading towards the kitchen. She nods.

"Sure. Anytime. One more piece of advice, though?" I nod, ready to take in whatever she has to tell me. "Don't let fear stop either of you from doing something you want to do. Wasted opportunities are the most painful to look back on." She finishes as we come to the door of the kitchen. Meeting her green eyes, I nod again.

"Got it." I say just as we walk in the room together.

A/N

Sorry for the flashback. I might have cried while writing it if that makes you feel better...