The scent woke her first, tickling her senses enough to see Cassidy rousing from the weird dream of a black slicked body, the substance moving like oil in a strangely beautiful way over the man it was part of. Bacon. She smiled to herself, wondering if her dad was cooking breakfast when the reality of her life came crashing down on her.
Her parents were dead. Her sister and brother were both dead. The pillow beneath her head wasn’t her own, and she had no idea where she was.
“Eddie, she wakes.”
The voice brought terror screaming through her veins, and Cassidy sat up with a jolt that made her grunt, wince, and grab for her side only to notice the clothes she wore weren’t hers.
“Hey. Morning.”
Cassidy looked up to find the man from last night standing in the doorway. He hunched a little, as if waiting for a blow or reprimand, and fiddled with his fingers.
“I, uh, we had to change your clothes. You bled right through your shirt and pants. There’s a bullet wound in your side, more a nick really, glancing blow, but the one in your hip looked like shrapnel from a ricochet. Venom says he got it all out and did what he could to fix it, but you’re not compatible so he couldn’t heal you all the way.”
She blinked, unable to fully comprehend someone who talked that fast.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Kennedy Rogers | Word Count: 3082 Warnings: A little sad, but mostly fluffy
Remembrance Day is incredibly important to my family. My grandfather stood guard for many a year at the cenotaph in Athabasca, so this story is near and dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy it and take a moment between now and the 11th to honour and remember those who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice in service to our countries and in the pursuit of freedom.
The poppies always did him in. Those bright red flowers with their flat black centers. They reminded him of those who’d gone before him. Of the fallen soldiers. The ones he’d known personally, and the ones whose names had long ago been forgotten.
Steve could remember every face and every name of every soldier who’d fought for him and died. He could remember everyone who’d been on missions with him for SHIELD and never came back. He knew them all like he knew his own name, and the poppies in their blood-red glory brought all those names raging back.
Every year when Veteran’s Day rolled around, he put on his Captain’s face and didn’t allow the grief to show.
Kennedy knew, of course. She sat with him at night when the memories grew so loud he couldn’t fight them any longer and allowed the tears to stream silently down his face. Her quiet presence helped keep him grounded when the worst of the demons got out of the cage he’d stuffed them in.
Having his son James and now little Sarah Natalia, his six-month-old daughter and light of his life, the apple of his eye, helped even further. He could look at his children and see what he was fighting for. He could hold his wife and know why he placed himself in harm’s way.
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