Steve didn't care about the war. If she never breathed another word about it, he would never bring it up. If she wanted to talk about it, of course he would listen, but he would never ask her questions that would undoubtedly be painful, at the very least, to her. He never, ever wanted to see her hurt.
As soon as she started shaking her head, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He wasn't sure how or what (although he could hazard a guess, and it wasn't pretty), but he'd upset her even more, and that was the very last thing he'd wanted to do. He curled himself around her smaller body, thankful that the trees surrounding them hid them from the casual eye. "Okay," he murmured against her temple, one arm around her back and the other curled up and stroking her hair. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I'm sorry."
He wasn't going to take it back, though. Steve had no illusions about what must have happened, probably how she'd lost her husband, but there was no way he could even contemplate not protecting her until his last breath, if it came down to it. He'd faced down death before, had welcomed it, and wound up on the other side, still alive, but regretting what it had cost him.
He would never, ever regret protecting those he loved with everything he had, though, up to and including his life. He didn't need to tell Rogue that, though. If she didn't realize it yet, she would probably figure it out eventually, but he didn't have to say it for it to still be true.
"Nobody needs to know, anyway," he breathed into her ear. "Nobody knows, except me, right? I'm not telling anyone, ever. That will always be up to you." He felt like he was adding the burden squarely back on her shoulders, but she was so distraught, he wanted her to understand that he would never, ever tell anyone her secret. "Partners, remember? We gotta stick together."
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As soon as she started shaking her head, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He wasn't sure how or what (although he could hazard a guess, and it wasn't pretty), but he'd upset her even more, and that was the very last thing he'd wanted to do. He curled himself around her smaller body, thankful that the trees surrounding them hid them from the casual eye. "Okay," he murmured against her temple, one arm around her back and the other curled up and stroking her hair. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I'm sorry."
He wasn't going to take it back, though. Steve had no illusions about what must have happened, probably how she'd lost her husband, but there was no way he could even contemplate not protecting her until his last breath, if it came down to it. He'd faced down death before, had welcomed it, and wound up on the other side, still alive, but regretting what it had cost him.
He would never, ever regret protecting those he loved with everything he had, though, up to and including his life. He didn't need to tell Rogue that, though. If she didn't realize it yet, she would probably figure it out eventually, but he didn't have to say it for it to still be true.
"Nobody needs to know, anyway," he breathed into her ear. "Nobody knows, except me, right? I'm not telling anyone, ever. That will always be up to you." He felt like he was adding the burden squarely back on her shoulders, but she was so distraught, he wanted her to understand that he would never, ever tell anyone her secret. "Partners, remember? We gotta stick together."