Chapter 24 - Rachel Stark

10 Months Later...

Recovery took a long time. It was exhausting not being able to be at the level I once was as quickly as I wanted to be, but hey, I am getting older. 

The first couple weeks after I woke up were painstakingly awkward. Steve helped me out, but we didn't go back to normal until a few months later. It is pretty obvious to both of us that we have feelings for each other, but Steve is giving me my space. I started seeing someone to help me work through some of my problems and I am getting better, but some days are still hard. 

Our kiss was somewhat forgotten. We swept it under the rug and we continued to be just friends. As I was recovering, Fury officially took me off of rehabilitation duty, seeing as Steve had finally become an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We haven't really worked together in the field since the last mission, what with me recovering and taking it slow and all. I was taken off of the injury list about three months ago. I went on a mission with a few other agents that went well. 

My phone alarm rings, causing me to sit up in my bed and look for it on the nightstand. I check the caller ID, not recognizing the number

"This is Stark," I say, checking the clock next to me. 7 am. 

"Agent Stark, I have an assignment for both you and Rogers," Fury says. 

"Long time no speak to you too," I say into the phone with a smile, getting up out of my bed. I hear Fury sigh through the phone.

"You really are a Stark, aren't you?" I laugh as he continues. "I need you and Rogers in D.C. straight away. Remember when I told you about D.C. almost two years ago? We are finally all set up here. I think you two will be useful assets to have here," he says. I make my way into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. 

"How long?" I inquire as I turn my sink on and get some water.

"Three weeks to tie up loose ends and to be here in D.C. Fury over and out." I hit the end call button and put the phone down as Steve walks into my apartment. He is just coming back from his run, the sweat still glistening on his forehead. 

"Just in time," I say with a smile. "What are we doing for breakfast?" 

"Hey. I couldn't figure out the phone again or I would've called," he says sheepishly. I offer him a small wave, letting him know it isn't a big deal. 

"You know you're welcome any time," I say, getting a piece of bread and the butter from the fridge. He nods as he slides into a barstool across from me. I quickly pour him a glass of water, handing it over to him. 

"I got a peculiar call from Fury while you were out," I say, putting my hands on the counter in front of me and leaning against them. Steve raises his eyebrows as he takes a long drink of water.

"Really? We haven't heard from him in what, ten months?" he says, placing the glass down. 

Fury checked in after our mission turned south and let me know I was out of the field service rotation. 

"Yeah, I know. That is why I thought it was weird. But he brought up D.C.," Steve straightens in his chair as I continue. "We're being reassigned."

"How long?" 

"Three weeks." 

Steve takes a deep breath in and looks around my apartment, his eye finally landing on the window. I see him look outside, watching the cars pass. 

"Okay." He says simply, his eyes still stuck outside.

"Really? I thought I would have to convince you more than that," I say, buttering the piece of bread that had just popped out of the toaster. 

"Yeah, it is. There is a lot of history for me here, but I think it's time to move on. Can't keep living in the past if I want a shot at the future," he says with a small crooked smile. He takes another long drink of water, his eyes trained on me. My stomach turns slightly, his gaze causing my body to tense up. I take a deep breath and a bite out of my toast. 

"You are so great, you know that? You make everything so easy." I say, looking out the window.

"I try," he chuckles, fiddling in his seat a little bit. I give him a sheepish smile. A pause falls over the room. "Why have you stuck by me?" he asks, his eyes looking deep into mine. I take in a sharp breath, memories of the two of us flooding my mind. I stand there speechless for a moment, unsure what to say. 

"Because you are my friend. And I know that I can trust you. You know more than anyone about my past. Plus, I feel really safe when I'm around you," I say quietly, looking down at the counter. Another pause passes over us. 

"I think we should get packing," he says, clearing his throat. He walks over to my sink and puts his glass in it, swiftly leaving my apartment. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I look around my empty apartment with my arms wrapped around my torso. This apartment has been my home as long as I have lived on my own. I moved in here at 18. I am 29 now. This place has been with me for 11 years. It is hard to see it emptied out like this. The warmth in the room is gone. 

I just stand around amongst the last boxes, my nails biting at the skin of my palm. My mind spins, thinking about all of the things that have happened while I was in this apartment. My life changed for the better here. My thoughts are interrupted by a pair of arms wrapping around my shoulders. I tense up slightly, ready to attack until I hear a voice.

"How are you holding up?" he asks. I turn out of the hug and take a deep breath with a hand over my heart. 

"Steve, you just scared the hell out of me," I say with a chuckle. He smiles over at me. 

"You looked pretty deep in thought. I figured it was the most gentle way to shake you out of it." I laugh awkwardly, starting to wring my hands. 

"I think I am doing fine. I've lived here for almost 11 years; I almost can't leave," I turn my back to Steve, looking around at the empty space once again.  "But time waits for no one. I am looking forward to the future. It's pretty much the only thing that is driving me to leave." I say.

"You are awesome." He says randomly. I turn around to face him again, smiling.

"I know," I say, giving my curly hair a sarcastic flip. "Now, based on my last count, there was only one super soldier here. So I volunteered him to carry my boxes." Steve scoffs. 

"Like you were going to carry them anyway," he laughs. I nudge his side as he picks up the box and I watch him carry the boxes through the door. "I'll meet you at the car," he shouts from the hall. 

I took one last look around the living room and kitchen, making sure I didn't miss anything. I check the bathroom and then head into my bedroom. One quick scan reveals a stray box. I walk over to it, my curiosity peaking when I see that it is still un-taped. I crouch down and open the flaps, revealing some pictures. I smile as I pick them up, pulling them closer to me. 

The first one is an old picture of my dad from his S.S.R. days. It was pretty much the only picture I had of him; my family wasn't really the loving type. We weren't one for family portraits. My dad was really young here, looking professional. 

The next picture is of Tony and I. I look about 23 in this picture. We are in his workshop, sometime after he came back to the U.S. from being held captive. He looks busy in this picture, tinkering with some stuff on the desk in front of him. I didn't know about his side hobby of building iron suits at the time but based on what I know now, this is a picture of him as he was starting a suit. Probably the first one. I am making a little face in the foreground of the picture, messing around. I miss living near Tony. His house was always my second home. I feel my eyes sting with tears, so I quickly flip to the next picture. 

It is the last one in the small stack, but it is by far my favorite. This one shows me Steve. I took this one when we went to Central Park a month or so ago. Steve had never seen the park and when I had told him it was one of my favorite places in the city, he requested that we went on our next day off from work. It was a late spring day and we got some ice cream at a little cart up the street. Steve was looking off in the distance at something, not realizing I was taking his picture. He had just gotten his hair cut earlier this week, shorter, and out of the traditional style. It was spiked just a little in the front... The appropriate amount. I run my fingers gently over the picture, remembering every detail about that day. A set of footsteps causes me to panic and jump up, dropping the pictures at my feet. 

"Woah, woah. It's just me, okay? What's up? I've been waiting at the car for a while," Steve says, with his hands up.

"Sorry, I was just really lost in thought... looking at some pictures," I say gesturing the floor. I pick up the pictures and hand them to him. He flips through them and stops on one.

"Did you take this one?" he asks with a smile, turning the print towards me so that I can see it. I nod. 

"Yeah. I thought it was adorable. You had just gotten your haircut." 

"Well, it's not my most flattering angle, is it?" he asks with a smirk. He leans down and puts the pictures in the box, picking it up. "Are you ready to go?" he asks with that smirk still on his face. My stomach turns in anticipation and anxiety as I take one last look at the room.

"Ready to face the future."