DISORIENTED
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"You did well today, baby."

Sadie's voice is silk and honeysuckle and Steve could collapse with the sound of it.

He closes his eyes, revels in her company. In the feeling of her glowing hands on his crown as she stands over him, in the sound of her breath, in the scent of her perfume.

"Did I?" Steve's voice trembles obnoxiously and he steadies his shaking hands on her hips.

It feels stupid to ask. He knows he didn't. He knows she's only saying that because she has to. Because she's his girl.

"You did," Sadie says, simply.

Steve can hardly breathe. "But those kids..."

"You did well today," she repeats, her power washing over him, a familiar stream.

He's clinging onto her like she's the last solid thing on earth, because she is. His forehead is resting against her abdomen and that's when he realises she's wearing scrubs.

Not the black of the Stark Industries scrubs he saw her in so often, but a blue that he hasn't seen her wear in years, now. Not since he was her patient.

Steve's in blue, too- his suit, but not the dark Kevlar that he ripped the silver star off... three months ago? Three years ago? Three years from now? Four?

Either way, he's dressed in a costume that's old fashioned, and she's in a doctor's coat. He looks up at her and her face is different, somehow.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the silver of her name tag. He looks different too. He looks fresh, like there's a million things that haven't happened yet.

Perhaps because they haven't.

The metal he's staring at has the SHIELD logo engraved on it, but he can't read the text- the letters are swimming.

"Sadie, I love you," Steve says, his heart exploding in his chest. "You know it, don't you? You know I love you?"

Sadie only smiles sadly. "You've never said it."

"I said it to the world," he tries, desperately.

"You've never said it to me," she says. "I won't know it until I hear it. From you, not any other way."

"Can I kiss you?" Steve asks her, desperately.

Suddenly, there's a light in his eyes, and they're in the Tower, and he can't stop blinking. There's a clicking, and Steve realises the light is Sadie's pen light. She draws away from him, puts the light in the pocket of her doctor's coat.

"Please, doll. Let me kiss you," he says, his voice strangled.

"We're not there yet, Captain Rogers," she says, simply. "I need to take your blood pressure, your weight, check your hearing... Make sure you're done defrosting."

"What?" Steve finds himself asking, suddenly confused, and dazed. His head is spinning.

"I treated you when you were in the ice..." Everything is suddenly distant. "I've been curious to know how you've been getting on..."

"Sadie, something is wrong," he says, and she doesn't register him. "Sadie-"

"Anaesthesia should be working soon," Sadie says, her voice still the picture of professionalism, no longer silk and honeysuckle.

"Please..."

"I'll be right here when you wake up, Captain," she smiles. "You did well today, baby."

There's something squeezing his left arm now, tight, constricting, and where he expects to see a pressure cuff, Steve sees a snake. It's scales are flaming red and gold against the cartoon blue of his suit. It's scales are metal, his suit is fucking polyester.

He stares up at Sadie as she drops to his level, and he thinks she's going to flash her pen light again, but she doesn't. Instead, she brings her glowing hand to the side of his face.

"Let me kiss you," Steve says, because it's all he knows how to.

Sadie smiles, nods, says: "I'll be here when you wake-"

Nobody was there when Steve woke up.

He woke suddenly- the ceiling fan in his sketchy motel room was roaring too loud- it sounded like the choppers they'd spent so long avoiding.

It took Steve a moment to remember who he was, and when he was. His left arm ached, and he drowsily slapped his palm against it- half expecting to find the red and gold iron around him.

His hand came up empty- no snakes, no scales, no pressure.

Turning in the sepia light, Steve wondered why he hadn't closed his curtains until he realised there weren't any curtains to close. He stretched his arm across the scratchy cotton sheets, reaching for Sadie.

He just wanted to know she was there, after that disorienting dream, know that she knew him- properly knew him. But his arm only dangled off the edge of the single bed- his hand coming up empty again.

Sadie wasn't there. She was in New York, across the river, mourning. And he couldn't help her.

Steve hated being in New Jersey, he hated being on the run, he hated dusty motels they had to break into and he hated being tired quickly, and waking up so soon after.

Checking the clock, Steve realised it was still early in the night, and Sam's bed was still empty.  He'd been asleep for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes.

Was that all it took for a dream that felt like hours?

He dragged himself to his feet, looked out of the curtainless window. Three rodents hopped across the car park. Steve didn't let it bother him- they would be leaving tomorrow morning anyway, headed West via the hidden Quinjet again.

They could have slept aboard as they had for the past three months, but Natasha had insisted they deserved a 'treat' after finishing their mission, clamping down the weapons threat.

Steve still didn't understand how this place was a treat.

Still, they would be leaving tomorrow and- he'd almost forgotten the most important thing- he hadn't written a letter to send to Sadie since arriving in New Jersey!

He hadn't missed a single letter for a single week in the three months they'd been apart.

No wonder he'd been dreaming of her so strangely, no wonder he'd woken so distressed, no wonder she'd been so robotic in the illusion.

Steve didn't waste any time, digging through his backpack for the sketchbook he used to write and draw, and a pencil- any pencil to sketch with.

He was grateful for his insomnia, if it meant he could do something for her. Draw, for her, write, for her.

Sadie,

The view I've sketched for you is how things look from my motel room in Jersey. It's not the greatest, but I thought it wouldn't be very honest if I only drew you the glamorous parts. A few minutes ago, I actually saw three rats run across the parking lot.

Jersey is as Jersey always is. Which means not the greatest. And it makes it even worse to know I'm so close to you- I could hop on a train right now and be at your doorstep before the sun rises. But I know the details of your house arrest and I know you can't have any contact with me. This is risk enough.

We had a confrontation this week, and it all came to a head today. A mission against one of the black arms dealers we've been tracking. It was long, and hard, and we managed to shut down the entire operation, but that was only after three civilian hostages, all children below the age of fifteen. The youngest was eight. We made sure the kids left without a scratch on them, but I know that's not enough. I know they'll face trauma for the rest of their lives.

I'm sorry, it's selfish of me to say all of this. You know in the war, the few Commandos who had girls at home would sugarcoat it all in their letters. They'd tell them 'baby, I've had the most glorious day on a French beach' after spending hours under fire with only a wooden rowboat between us and a HYDRA base. They'd write 'darling, the snow is beautiful in Berlin', even as we shivered in the woods with only our uniforms on our backs.

They were better men than me. I should tell you something more comfortable, like 'we had a routine mission and then it was back to movie-watching', or 'we've been sightseeing', or anything besides the fact that three kids were left traumatised today. That would be the brave thing to do. But it wouldn't be honest.

I noticed something about myself today. When we reunited those kids with their parents, and there were smiles and laughter, and tears of joy- Sam and Nat revelled in it. They were proud of their good work, happy those children were unaffected. Even now, they're together next door, and I can hear them through the wall, laughing and chatting like all is well in the world, because I guess it is, in ours. We've clamped down the threat, ended all this- for now, at least.

But I realised that at the end of everything, after Sokovia, after Florence and Lagos and countless other times, it was always you that I gravitated towards. Of course, I understand it now- I adored you with everything by the time we got to Italy, but before that I was drawn to the bond we were building. You were always the one to pull me out of my own head, remind me that it was over, that we had something to celebrate.

Being in Jersey again, has also made me think. We drove past the exact spot where you came to heal me all that time ago, and I realised how strange that entire situation actually was. Of course, I knew you, and you knew me, but we put so much trust in each other. It probably wasn't sensible. Fury told me not to trust anybody, but I trusted you. And you hadn't used your powers in years, but you decided that was good reason to. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, and you only helped me because I was your patient at the time, but I know for me, I felt I could let you in because I just knew you were good. Like most people do, when they meet you, I guess.

As usual, I'm counting the days until I see you again. Whenever that is.

Steve paused his pen on the page as he started to sign off, thinking thoroughly for a moment of what greeting to write. Then he reminded himself firmly that a twenty first century woman wouldn't care how he signs off his letters.

So he didn't think any harder as he wrote the most truthful thing to sign off with:

All my love,
Steve.

P.S: I'm sorry this is late. I promise to be more punctual from now on.

"I knew you'd be awake."

Natasha's voice in his ear would have made Steve jump if he hadn't heard her creep in from the next room, felt her tip toe all the way over to him with the intent of giving him a fright.

He didn't fall for it, instead he stayed still in his seat by the tiny desk. Natasha clearly wasn't happy about that fact, aggressively flopping down onto his bed, her newly bleached bob pinned away from her face.

"Thought you went to sleep an hour ago, Grandpa," she finished, and he shrugged, folding up his letter.

"The fan is too loud."

"Come and have a drink with us," Natasha said. "Celebrate. We had a big win today."

"Did we?" Steve didn't mean to ask it- he'd been thinking it in his head and only realised he'd said it out loud when Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. He shook his head. "Forget it, I'm sorry. We did."

"You still beating yourself up about those kids?" she asked.

Was he that obvious? Maybe only to her- Natasha Romanoff seemed to be able read anyone and everyone, always. It wasn't always so easy to read her.

He tried to get the image out of his head- three kids suspended in chains, guns to their temples.

"I should never have let it escalate to that," he said, honestly. "If I hadn't missed those guys in the warehouse, if Sam hadn't been there-"

Steve stopped himself, then. He was supposed to be a leader, not wallow in self pity and fish for reassurance.

He never thought he'd ever get to the point where he missed their meetings and debriefed at the Compound- at least he could put some kind of action to his failures then. Put it as a note in a database, keep track, never make the same mistake again.

Natasha only stood from where she lay. "Come and have a beer."

"It doesn't make a difference for me," Steve reminded her.

"I know," she shrugged. "Pretend it does."

~

Sadie had been worried out of her mind- but she hadn't known it.

The first two months of her house arrest had been spent mourning, and wallowing in her own self pity. The third month was when Sadie felt she was finally on her feet, even if the ground was shaking.

Her routine was fairly simple. She worked out, she cooked and cleaned, she watched movies and had more pamper days than she had ever had time for before. Sadie helped her godchildren with their homework, and it was so lovely to be so close to Jacob and Sophia, to see them grow.

The highlights of her week though, was these Saturday mornings, when she worked through medical cases with Adrianne over breakfast- like they used to work on projects together in med school. If Sadie tried hard to forget everything, it felt like she was doing a consult, and she adored it.

But this week, Sadie couldn't forget anything at all. Because Steve hadn't written to her in two weeks.

Alarm bells weren't quite ringing for her yet- she knew how quickly a week can go by while you're on a mission, especially one that's high stakes. It was most likely that Steve simply hadn't had a chance to sit down and write.

Or maybe he couldn't write. Maybe he'd been compromised.

And Sadie didn't know what she'd do if that had happened. It was terrible to think it, but if something were to go wrong, there was really no best case scenario. It would be twenty years prison from the authorities, or something worse from criminals.

Both of those outcomes would mean that she could never be with Steve again...

"Stop worrying," Adrianne said, with a raised eyebrow.

Sadie pushed up her glasses, shuffling the papers in front of her. "I'm not."

"You just asked me what pneumonia is," her friend teased. "I think it's fair to say your mind is elsewhere-" Adrianne turned to her husband behind them. "-Babe, isn't her mind elsewhere?"

"Your mind is elsewhere," Jamie confirmed from his seat on the couch, where Jacob and Sophia sat beside him, watching cartoons on TV, and munching on cereal.

"You're only saying that because you have to agree with her," Sadie huffed. "You two don't have to parent me, you know."

"Of course," Adrianne said, absentmindedly as she jotted down notes. "And you don't have to listen for the mail so hard. It'll arrive at ten, like it always does."

"I'm not being unreasonable," she continued. "It's okay to worry when you haven't heard from someone."

"Especially your partner," Jamie piped up, and it was Sadie's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Now you're on my team?" she asked.

"No, I'm on my wife's team, always," he grinned, and Sadie rolled her eyes. "But I'm playing Devil's Advocate."

"Ah, that makes much more sense," Sadie said, in mock bitterness. "Anyway it's not like I'm worrying for no reason. If he was home I wouldn't be worried."

"I know, Sadie," Adrianne said, sincerely, finally setting down her pen.

"And honestly, Steve's doing some dangerous work out there- you know how dangerous it is?" only nods in response. "I mean sure, he doesn't get hurt as easily, but he still does sometimes and what makes it worse it that I know he'll just ignore it if he does! One time he was literally walking on a broken leg and said it doesn't hurt."

"You're making that up," Jamie chuckled, but his smile dropped when he saw the look on her face.

"Now do you get why I'm worried?" Sadie asked, checking her watch. It was ten already- where was the mailman?

"Because you're in love?" Adrianne asked, simply.

"Yes- wait," Sadie said, narrowing her eyes. "I never said that."

"Oh, we totally need to parent you," Jamie laughed, and she pulled a tongue at him.

"Of course I have feelings for Steve," she said, awkwardly.

"Feelings are all well and good," Adrianne said. "But you love him. You're madly in love."

"I'm not madly in love," Sadie argued, before hesitating slightly. "Maybe... maybe just a little in love."

It was a lie. Sadie knew it, Adrianne knew it, Jamie knew it, and the kids would probably call her out on it if they weren't so attached to My Little Pony.

Sadie was totally, inexplicably in love. But she hadn't let herself even think it. Before the Accords, it had been because she was still setting boundaries for herself- and so was Steve- in their new relationship. It simply hadn't been long enough since they got together for her to 'love' him, right?

But now that she thought about it, Sadie thought she was falling in love with Steve way before their relationship was official. And now, with their separation, she still didn't let herself think it because it was simply too hard.

But of course, her friends wouldn't let her get away with that.

Before they could tease her anymore, there was a ding on the door, indicating the mail had arrived. Sadie sprung up from her seat, but Adrianne beat her to the door.

"I'll get it," her friend said firmly. "You're only going to be disappointed if there's nothing there. I'll let you know if there's anything for you."

Sadie sat down without an argument, knowing her friend was right. It felt like years that Adrianne sorted through the mail before she returned with a stack of letters in hand.

"Bills, bills, bills," she said, tossing the envelopes onto the table. "Work, and more work," she continued, before pausing at a much skinnier envelope Sadie recognises immediately. Adrianne tossed it over to her. "Jersey!"

The last time Sadie had opened a letter so quickly it had been her med school results. All this tension that she didn't realise she had been carrying was suddenly released at the sight of Steve's familiar handwriting and artwork.

And as she read, and imagined Steve's voice, his heart, his feeling... It was undeniable that Isadora Moore was a little, madly in love.

. . .

. .

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Ooh what's that- a surprise update? It's probably super irresponsible to do this now since I don't have the next chapter written like I usually try to, but I just really wanted to post! So if there's any mistakes or inconsistencies- that's why lmao

I wrote Steve's dream at like literally 3AM and I think it shows- hopefully it wasn't too confusing with the present tense and the lack of italics, I just really wanted to confuse y'all lol. Let me know if you would have preferred it in italics, and I'll switch it up!

Also, Sadie took her damn time saying she loves him lmao- now they just gotta say it to each other hehehe

Let me know what you thought!

-Amber.