The gift

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 487 words.

Square: 13 "Doorbell rang but nobody was there."

Rating: Teen.

Summary: A gift from Brock.

Major Tags: Sad, goodbyes.

Additional tags: This is my entry to Valentine's edition.

The rain gently tapped against the window of your small apartment; you felt nostalgic. Since Hydra's uprising, nothing had been the same.

But none of it hurt you as much as he did.

Brock Rumlow.

You and Brock were complete opposites, but the day came when you met and, against all odds, you had fallen in love.

Now you knew that he had been a Hydra agent from the beginning, an infiltrated traitor. And yet you couldn't help but be in love with him; even though he had disappeared since the fall of SHIELD, and you had assumed you would never see him again.

That night, as you sank into the couch with a cup of coffee, the sound of your doorbell made you startle. You frowned, setting the cup aside. You weren't expecting visitors. Cautiously, you got up and walked to the door, your hand resting on the pistol you always kept close to you.

You opened the door carefully, only to find yourself alone. No one was there.

But then you saw it. A small wooden box. There were no notes, no instructions, but you didn't need any. You knew exactly who had left it.

Brock.

You bent down, picked up the box with trembling hands, and carried it inside. You closed the door with a firm click, your mind racing with questions. Why now, why after weeks of silence?

You sat down on the couch, setting the box down in front of you. With a deep sigh, you lifted the lid.

Inside, there was a knife which you recognized immediately was the one Brock always carried on his belt. But it wasn't just the knife that caught your attention. There was also a small envelope, neatly folded, with your name written in Brock's handwriting, which you would recognize anywhere.

With trembling fingers, you opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

I knew you wouldn't forgive me for what I am, and I don't expect you to. But this is the only thing I can give you now: a chance for you to be prepared.

I know you hate me. I know you feel betrayed. But I want you to remember something: what I felt for you was never a lie. It was all real.

My gun. It's yours now. I promise you, no matter what happens, I'll protect you. Even if it means staying away from you, take care of yourself. Trust no one.

B.

Your hands shook as you finished reading, and tears welled in your eyes.

You put the letter away and picked up the knife, feeling its weight in your hand. You knew Brock had made a decision and also that you couldn't trust him, but you also couldn't ignore what that box, that knife, that letter meant. It was a goodbye, but also a promise.

A promise that, despite everything, he would never stop taking care of you.