❪ EVER SINCE NEW YORK ❫
##### ▬▬ ❛ ACT. ONE ❜

CHAPTER ONE. so long, london

ST. LUKE'S CATHEDRAL
[ London, England ╱ June 22nd, 2016 ]

       SITTING in the back pews of a church is certainly one-way to spend an early morning. Not that Erin was complaining though. Seriously, she wanted to be here; even with the▬unforgivably hard▬wooden backrest pressing into her shoulder blades (the kind that makes you wonder if old-timey churchgoers had steel for spines or just a higher tolerance for discomfort), and the snotty, little toddler sitting beside her.

       It was just...strange; being so far from the one person who still connected her to a simpler time. The one person who▬on a good day▬could spin stories about her Great-Grandfather like they'd just happened last week. Great Aunt Peggy was practically family, the closest thing she had here in England to someone who felt like home. Because, let's face it, when you're not allowed to leave the house and make actual friends, and you're real extended relatives live miles away, you tend to cling to what little pieces of 'family' you're given.

       Blinking rapidly, Erin tried to clear the fog that had settled over her brain. Sniffles echoed throughout the nave, and the faint smell of wood polish and dust carried an dull ache, as if the place remembered every loss, every grief, and refused to let them go▬connecting the past to the present. Her fingers fumbled with the funeral booklet she'd been given, trying to smooth out the crinkled edges she'd caused earlier by nervously flipping through its pages. She'd never attended a service like this before. Honestly, a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that she stuck out like a sore thumb▬the somber dirges were unfamiliar, the centuries-old prayers were a struggle to keep up with, and the black-and-white photograph by the altar made her eyes burn with the tears she had fought so hard to keep at bay since last Sunday, the longer she stared at it. She didn't own much black. It wasn't a colour she particularly gravitated towards. But tucked away in the far corner of her closet, buried under a pile of Oxford University memorabilia (because, let's be real, she'd basically written off Columbia until, like, two weeks ago), was a plain, short-sleeve (and thankfully, black) dress her mom had snagged for her middle school speech night two years ago. Yet there was a boy about three rows ahead of her▬who couldn't be older than twelve▬in a dress shirt and slacks; a young girl to her right (on the opposite side of the nave)▬who looked around eight▬in a long-sleeve blouse and skirt; and that same snotty, toddler▬who still sat beside her▬was dressed in a proper suit for his age, playing with the laces on his shoes.

       Like he'd even remember this three years from now, she thought, frowning as he began to fuss in his seat.

       Although, she supposed▬in the end▬it didn't matter if he couldn't recall it all. He'd attended his first funeral before his life had even begun. Glancing at her parents, Erin realised she ought to count herself lucky; to make it to fifteen without confronting death was a blessing. One that not many people had the joy of sharing. A heavy pit settled in her stomach. The frightening reality that not all life on earth was here to stay forever, never really crossed her mind▬until now.

       "Here," her dad whispered, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. His smile was soft, a little wistful▬the kind that only a dad could muster (like they'd all received the same universal training manual once upon a time).

       Erin blinked once more, caught off guard. She was...crying. God, how had she not even noticed?

       It wasn't like her tears were subtle. Rivulets ran down her cheeks like they'd been waiting days to break free▬and maybe, they had. A lump clawed its way into her throat, making her swallow hard as she tenderly took the handkerchief from him. Grief came in waves▬she knew that much. Google didn't really offer anything else to the contrary. But some stubborn, control-freak part of her had thought that maybe, just maybe, she could outsmart it. Control it. Shove it into a neat little box until she was alone in her room, and could feel all of it at once. Privately.

       "Thanks," Erin mumbled, swiping at her cheeks. Waterproof mascara had been a smart move, even if it was only a failsafe for potential, unforecasted rain.

       With one last sniffle, she folded the handkerchief with almost clinical precision, setting it carefully on her lap before rubbing her nose on the sleeve of her thin, black cardigan; snot be damned. Straightening in her seat, she pushed the brown strands of hair that had▬for some reason▬decided to fall forwards back behind her shoulders, tucking a few stubborn baby hairs behind her ears. The Vicar, adorned in his black cassock, white surplice and black chasuble, had moved since she'd last seen him▬or, if she was being honest, since the last time she'd actually been paying attention, which was probably somewhere around the choir's fourth song, give or take. She just couldn't help it. He stood now in front of the white marble altar, among the candles and the dozens of white roses, between the flags that framed the cross behind him...directly in front of the Union Jack covered coffin.

       Steadying herself with a shaky sigh, Erin finally tuned back in, catching the tail end of his sermon.

      "And now," he began, "I would like to invite Sharon Carter to come up and say a few words."

       Silence enveloped the congregation as the organist continued his piece. But it wasn't the peaceful kind, it was the kind that makes you hyper-aware of every shuffle at the front of the nave, every cough from throughout the rows, every creak of ancient wood beneath the flat, muted red carpet as Sharon made her way out of the pew and towards the lectern.

       Erin watched as the blonde woman took a deep breath, offering a quick closed-mouth smile before launching into her eulogy.

       "Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. But I just knew her as Aunt Peggy. She had a photograph in her office: Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to, which is why I never told anyone we were related."

       "I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, 'Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, "No."'"

       Sharon paused, her gaze settling on a gentleman in the front pew. From where Erin sat, she could barely make out a flash of blonde hair over the sea of heads in her way▬no matter which way she leaned.

       "'You move.'"

       Turns out Google got one thing wrong about funerals though: they don't give you closure...they tear the wound right open again.

❪ 🕸️ ❫

       "I think I've lost my phone," Erin said, hastily patting down her dress pockets, pulling out nothing but lint, lip-balm and a few stray tissues.

       The service had wrapped up not long after Sharon's speech, with people streaming out the main doors to form a guard of honour for the procession. It had been one last, bittersweet send-off, the kind that made you feel like you were drowning from the weight of paralysing grief; except, this time, you weren't fighting the current. You were still. Calm. Almost...at peace. She hadn't thought she'd cry again▬truly, she hadn't▬but there was something about the finality of it that caused her to break down completely in the end. Suffice to say, her father just about bolted to grab the car after that, while her mother stuck to her side like glue (because, apparently, leaving her alone was simply out of the question). Honestly, someone sound the helicopter.

       "Well, did you leave it inside?" her mom asked, already giving the church a wary side-eye.

       "Maybe," Erin said, biting her lip with an exaggerated huff of defeat. "Or, you know, it grew legs and wandered off," she added, tilting her head from side to side like she was genuinely considering it▬spoiler alert: she wasn't. "I'm gonna go check between the pews."

       With a distracted 'Here,' she shoved the funeral booklet she'd been carrying into her mum's awaiting hands, the paper rustling loudly. A lone gum wrapper, crumpled at the corners, slipped out and fluttered to the ground, spinning in the air like it was caught in an awkward gust of wind.

       "Alright," her mom relented, rolling up the sleeves of her cream blouse before checking the watch on her wrist. "But make it quick. Your dad's bringing the car around, and you still have pack, young lady."

       "You got it, boss," Erin said with a grin and a mock salute, spinning on her heel.

       "And for once, could you please use the actual▬" Victoria's voice trailed off as her daughter phased through the brick wall like it was no big deal. With a long-suffering sigh, she finished, "▬door. Honestly, one day you're going to give someone a heart attack."

       Glancing around the side street, her eyes quickly scanned the area for any curious onlookers▬friends, family, acquaintances. Fortunately, everyone seemed caught up in the usual post-funeral small talk, completely oblivious to the latest display of startlingly weird and unusual behaviour. Satisfied, she turned back towards the road, when her gaze caught a friendly face▬standing near the street sign, on the opposite side of the pavement. The woman waved enthusiastically, her hand high in the air. Victoria froze for a beat, then awkwardly waved back, her smile too wide and too stiff▬nothing even close to natural. She didn't know the woman, she was almost sure of it. Dropping her hand quickly, she pretended to check her watch this time, desperately hoping the whole interaction would disappear as quickly as her daughter would through physical matter.

       A car horn blared, yanking her from the moment. Christopher James-Pryde's dark grey four-wheel drive came into view, pulling smoothly up to the curb.

       "Oh, thank God," Victoria murmured, relief flooding her as she straightened up, ready to escape.

❪ 🕸️ ❫

       Appearing through the wall like a ghost, Erin skidded to a halt, her startled gasp echoing throughout the quiet church. There, casually standing in the middle of the main aisle with his suit jacket unbuttoned, staring off into space (or, really▬staring at the marble altar, if she was being technical about it), was Steve Rogers. Yes, that Steve Rogers. The Star-Spangled Man himself. All blonde hair and blue eyes. It hadn't even crossed her mind that he'd be here▬like, at all. Or, that he'd still be here▬completely and unceasingly, frozen in time. But then again, that's what happens when your access to the internet is outlandishly restricted for two whole years. You miss stuff. Big stuff. The kind of stuff that your best friend▬for example▬wouldn't think was worth mentioning because, notably, his definition of 'important' started and ended with whatever directly affected him.

       And so, the whole who's-who of who's attending Peggy Carter's funeral? Yeah, not exactly something on Johnny's radar.

       It was almost endearing...when it wasn't completely aggravating, she thought. Mentally cursing him, her gaze swung between the startlingly tall▬God, he had to be at least six-foot▬man a few feet away and the wall behind her. She could still escape▬ditch the whole search, say 'screw it' to her phone, and simply start saving for a new one. It's not like he'd notice. He was off in a world of his own, still a statue. And honestly, if she couldn't see the slow rise and fall of his chest, she'd swear he was a statue▬something straight out of her 'Cities of Vesuvius' textbook. Like, marble and everything, chiseled to the Gods. Get a grip, she scolded herself, shifting nervously on her feet, trying to make a decision▬and fast. Did she stay or go?

       He probably wanted privacy. She would. She knew she would. Yet a slight glimpse of his side profile had her torn. Biting her lip, Erin tilted her head, taking a moment to study him▬like, really study him. Was this what her mom meant? That weird ache in your chest when you couldn't bring yourself to leave someone alone in their grief? Because, if it was, she got it now. Beneath the shine of his long-standing, heroic disposition was a borderline normal guy from Brooklyn. A borderline normal▬yet, lonely▬guy from Brooklyn, she corrected herself, opening her mouth to strike up a conversation▬only to freeze when his head swivelled in her direction.

       "Sorry, I▬uh," she flailed for words, catching the kind, close-lipped smile he tossed her way. What had she even been planning to say? She knew there'd been something▬something brilliant, in fact. The kind of thing that, later that day, she'd have smugly congratulated herself on. So why did her brain decide to short-circuit now?

      Jesus Christ.

       "I just...I came through the side entrance..." she gestured vaguely behind her, a strained chuckle falling from her lips as she tried▬emphasis on tried▬to act like she hadn't just magically appeared through a very-real, very-solid brick wall. "I didn't think anyone would still be here..."

       She trailed off. Was she supposed to admit she knew who he was? Would he think that was weird?

       "Steve," he supplied, a curious glint in his eye. Almost like...he knew something she didn't.

       But, he didn't, she thought, rolling her shoulders back, and feeling the flush in her cheeks finally begin to dissipate. She was sure of it. Positive. She'd covered her tracks well enough▬if she did say so herself. The momentary panic? Gone. It never stuck around long anyway. Worming her way out of trouble was something she excelled at▬much to Johnny's chagrin. Sure, he might've been a pro at dodging the heat girls threw his way post-breakup, but Erin? Erin knew people. And in her▬expert▬opinion, people don't notice the cracks in your story if the glass is shiny enough.

       "Oh, I know who you are," she admitted, an amused grin tugging at her lips as she slowly made her way towards the pews, anchoring her hands on the nearest finial. The stained-glass windows up above looked like someone had captured a kaleidoscope mid-spin; excerpts from the Bible brought to life in screaming colour. Sunlight streamed through them, painting the wood beneath her grasp with splashes of ruby red, sapphire blue, and gold so warm it could've fooled you into thinking you weren't in England. It framed Steve like a halo, she noticed▬the tips of his blonde hair iridescent in the mid-morning glow. How...fitting?

       "You've practically walked on water in my family for generations," she continued, her shrug loose and casual, the corners of her mouth twitching upward even more as she watched his brows furrow in confusion; the telltale sign of someone trying to piece together a puzzle. A puzzle that▬on a good day▬they could probably solve in a millisecond. Today wasn't one of those. "My great-grandfather..." she faltered slightly, her fingers fidgeting along the edge of a pew as if searching for a distraction. She hadn't talked about him in a while. "His name was Timothy Dugan, but you probably knew him as..."

       This time, Steve didn't fill in the blanks. He didn't need to. Her words hung between them like unsettled dust▬like she'd yanked the cover off an old wardrobe, hoping for something magical, only to find nothing but cobwebs and a completely sealed back-panel. Perhaps dredging up the past wasn't her brightest idea. Perhaps it was slightly ill-timed. Yet, as she watched about a million emotions flicker across his face, one thing became crystal clear: it had done exactly what she needed it to do. It had thrown him off▬if there was anything to throw off▬completely.

       "Well▬uh▬" Erin cleared her throat, breaking the painfully silent moment before it could stretch any further. Her brown eyes darted from Steve's large frame to the rows of pews on her right. She scanned the area, rising up on her tiptoes to check the gaps between each wooden bench. No luck. "I just came to get my phone," she mentioned off-handedly, pushing off finial and shuffling down the right aisle▬her black Mary-Jane's scuffing along the abrasive ground. Reaching the back of the nave, she stopped at an all too familiar row. Surely, this was it. Crouching down, she brushed her hands lightly along the flat carpet, it's must-like smell even more pungent up close. God, she was in for a serious sinus flare up later. Leaning over even further to peek underneath the seat itself, she sighed. "I think I dropped it somewhere around▬"

       Erin's pale hand shot out, a triumphant huff escaping her. "Here."

       Unlocking the phone, she checked her recent messages.

       [ 11:09 am ] Johnny : i need advice

       [ 11:20 am ] Johnny : never mind i already did the stupid thing

       "Aw, crap," she muttered, her brain already spiralling through every possible worst-case scenario. Seriously, he couldn't have held out for like, two more minutes?

       [ 11:22 am ] Erin : istg if u got suspended, i'm changing ur contact to sir lowell spencer again

       Brushing the dust off her knees, Erin pushed herself up to her feet and sidestepped out of the row. Her thumbs hovered over the glowing screen, caught mid-air like they were waiting for divine inspiration. Because, really, what else could she say that invoked that same level of threat yet didn't scream, 'Do you have an off button'?

       Barely registering her surroundings, she offered only a fleeting, distracted apology, and began turning towards the singular side-door closest to her. "Sorry for▬"

       "So, you walk through walls often?"

       Erin froze mid-spin, cheeks flushing. There was no way.

       Peering at him from the corner of her eye, she considered her options. On one-hand, she could play dumb▬simply gaslight him until he gave up. A bit dramatic? Maybe. A little tempting? Absolutely. She bit her lip. The look on his face said it all▬there was no weaselling her way out of this one, no matter what her web of excuses she spun. She'd finally met her match. Great. Johnny was gonna have a field day with this one. "You▬uh," she tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan, "you saw that?"

       Hands shoved in his trouser pockets, Steve offered her a wry smile. "Kind of hard to miss given all the empty space."

       Erin's eyes fluttered shut in defeat. At this point, she felt like face-palming herself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

      "It's a neat trick," he said suddenly, his voice calm but curious.

       She stiffened, her stomach doing an uncomfortable flip. Glancing away, she pretended to study the nearest stained-glass window as he continued.

       "Reminds me of a friend of mine. You always been able to do that?"

       "Not exactly," Erin replied, her voice tighter than she wanted it to be. She swallowed hard, and the silence that followed practically stretched out into eternity. She could feel his piercing gaze, steady and patient, but there was no mistaking what he was after: an actual explanation.

       Could she trust him?

       Her dad had been very clear about keeping the whole superpower thing under wraps. And, well, the last time she'd ignored that rule, it hadn't exactly gone over well. Johnny had somehow hired someone to hack her laptop▬while she was, coincidentally, mid-mental breakdown over everything▬and she'd blurted out the truth as soon as their video call connected. Long story short, NDAs were signed and she'd been grounded for weeks▬like, really? As if she had anywhere to go.

      But Steve Rogers would get it. He had to. Abnormal was basically his nine-to-five. Plus, the odds crossing paths with him again was next to none, and the look in his eyes made her think that maybe▬just, maybe▬the Avengers weren't exactly looking for new recruits anytime soon. It was odd. Yet, as her shoulders dropped and her pulse slowed down, she realised that it had been the exact kind of reassurance she'd been searching for.

       Her parents were going to kill her. Only if they found out though, she amended▬which they won't.

       "Ever since New York, a couple years back, things have been..." Erin trailed off, nose scrunching as she tried to figure out what to say. "Different. And I don't know why. It just sort of...showed up one day▬like most things seem to lately."

       Steve's tone softened, though his curiosity didn't waver. "Can you control it?"

       "For the most part."

       "You know, 'for the most part' isn't technically a 'yes'."

       "It's not technically a 'no' either," she quipped, flashing him a mischievous smile as he let out a faint laugh, shaking his head in amusement. Well, he couldn't argue with that.

       Feeling a buzz beneath her fingertips, Erin glanced down at her phone. Her mom's name flashed on the screen (in bright, bold letters) and her stomach dropped. Shit.

       "Anyway, I should probably go," she said, voice shifting to something a little more rushed. "My parents are waiting for me, and, well▬" the buzzing stopped, only to start up again. This time? Her dad. "I really don't need another 'we're leaving without you' moment."

       She gave him a quick, apologetic smile, more out of habit than anything. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Rogers."

       "Steve," he corrected.

       "Steve," she repeated, backing towards the side-door with a sheepish grin. "Erin," she pointed towards herself. Then, as if on instinct, she added, "On your left."

       Steve blinked in surprise, head turning just-in-time to see a familiar redhead make her way up the front steps of Saint Luke's Cathedral. Erin didn't stick around long enough to see his reaction though▬already halfway out the door, heart pounding in her chest.

CAN'T CATCH ME NOW
❪ POSTED : jan 7th, '25 ❫
❛ © -SWRITES 2025 ❜ 𓂅‧₊˚

AUTHOR'S NOTE ! ... so long, ms peggy carter <3

       ended up drawing a lot of inspiration from my own personal experiences with that opening scene; so if it does feel a bit clunky at times, i'm sorry 😭😭

       suffice to say, 2024 was not my year.

       but regardless, steve had me in the absolute trenches. istg, i'm convinced he's hardest mcu!character to get right; and i still don't really know if i did (despite keeping his dialogue to a minimum). he's not gonna be the most prevalent character post-civil war, but i'm still v open to any advice (or constructive criticism) u guys might have when it comes to him! <3

      i also just wanna quickly say that while there were no mentions of peter in this chapter, they're coming in the next one (courtesy of everyone's new favourite best friend)▬promise!

       its opening lines r literally:

"YOU BLEW UP A SCIENCE LAB?!"

"I didn't blow up the lab. I blew up a desk▬there's a difference."

       ...and then it just completely spirals from there

       ( minimal editing )