The next few days passed in a blur. Steve and I barely had time to rest between the constant flow of information and missions. We were working on separate fronts—he, trying to piece together Hydra's network and contacts, and I, tracking down leads on their key players. It felt like every time we got close to something, it slipped through our fingers, as if Hydra knew exactly where we were looking.
One night, after another frustrating round of meetings with SHIELD, Steve and I found ourselves sitting in a small, dimly lit room in one of their safe houses, the walls lined with maps and red-taped connections. The only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning. We were both exhausted, but neither of us could afford to stop. Not yet.
"Do you ever get tired of this?" I asked quietly, my voice breaking the silence. "The constant running, the constant fight? It's like we're always on the edge of something—always just out of reach."
Steve was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the map in front of us, his fingers tracing over one of the lines. He didn't answer immediately, and when he did, his voice was low.
"I do," he admitted, finally looking up at me. "I get tired of it all the time. But I don't know any other way to live. It's who I am, what I do. Every fight we've fought, every battle we've won—it's all led to this. Stopping Hydra, saving lives. It's the reason I keep going."
I couldn't help but notice the weight behind his words. He said it like he didn't have a choice, like he was carrying something heavy on his shoulders—something that wasn't just about Hydra or the fight itself. Steve Rogers had always been the symbol of hope for people. But I could see that even he was starting to question the never-ending cycle.
"You ever think about... what comes after?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "I mean, once we get rid of Hydra. What then? What are we fighting for, if there's nothing left to fight?"
The question hung in the air for a long time, and Steve seemed to be contemplating it. I saw his jaw tighten as if he was trying to sort through his own thoughts.
"I think about it all the time," Steve finally said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know if I'll ever have an answer to that. But I can't stop now. Not when there's still so much to do. We fight because it's what we've always done. And maybe, just maybe, when it's all over, we'll figure out what comes next."
I could see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrored my own. There was always this pressure—this weight to keep moving forward, to keep fighting, because what else was there to do? Hydra had taken so much from us already. Our time. Our lives. And it felt like every day, we lost just a little bit more of ourselves.
"You ever get the feeling that we're just... running?" I said softly. "Running away from something. Running from who we used to be."
Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah. I do. But sometimes, running is the only thing that keeps you alive. And if we stop running... if we stop fighting... then what?"
The question hung between us, unanswered. Neither of us knew the answer. But it wasn't something we could dwell on—not now. Not when we still had a war to win.
"Have you thought about what you'll do once it's over?" Steve asked, his voice shifting, as if he was turning the question back on me.
I exhaled sharply. "Honestly? I haven't let myself think about it. Not for a long time. I don't know what's left for me, Steve. Maybe there's nothing left. Maybe this is all I'm meant to do."
"You don't believe that," Steve said, his tone firm but gentle. "You're more than this fight. You've always been more than this. We all are."
I didn't know how to respond to that. Maybe I didn't want to. Steve was the idealist, the one who saw the best in people—even in me, despite everything I'd done. It felt like too much to live up to, too much pressure for someone who had spent years under Hydra's control, losing pieces of themselves with every mission.
"Yeah," I finally said, trying to push the weight of the conversation aside. "Maybe you're right."
We both sat there in silence for a few minutes, each of us lost in our own thoughts. But as the weight of our conversation lingered in the air, I couldn't help but think about something that had been gnawing at the back of my mind for a while.
"What happens if we don't win?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Steve's eyes softened, and for a brief moment, I could see the vulnerability in him. The same vulnerability I tried so hard to hide.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know this: I'm not giving up. Not while there's still a chance. And neither are you."
The conviction in his voice was enough to make me believe it, if only for a moment. But I knew the truth. We were both running out of time.
"Where do we start?" I asked, changing the subject, trying to shift the conversation back to something more practical.
Steve leaned forward, picking up a file that had been left on the table. "We keep digging. We find their leader, their stronghold, and we end this. We've already taken down half of their operations. We just need to finish it."
I nodded, trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. We had a mission. We had work to do. And for now, that was all I could focus on.
"But there's something else," Steve continued, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the files. "Hydra's more than just a group of soldiers. They're an ideology. They believe in something. And if we want to end them once and for all, we need to take down the roots, not just the branches."
I felt a knot tighten in my chest. "So, what are you saying?"
"We need to go after their leadership. The people who built this. Not just the foot soldiers. The ones who started it all."
The air seemed to grow heavier with those words. Hydra wasn't just a military force. It was a whole system, a deep-seated ideology that went back years, centuries even. Cutting it down wouldn't be easy. But we didn't have a choice.
"I'll do whatever it takes," I said, my voice steady despite the dread creeping in. "I'm ready."
Steve met my gaze, his expression resolute. "We do this together. Every step of the way."
And for the first time in a long time, I believed him.