Crying wasn't entirely unexpected, actually; Steve regretted that he'd made her cry, but he'd never regret letting her know how he felt. He pulled her other arm around his shoulder, before wrapping his arms around her in an all-encompassing embrace. He wanted to tell her he loved her, he wanted to say all the words she needed to hear, over and over again, even if she didn't believe him, she needed to hear them, so maybe, eventually, they would sink in.
Steve just kept quiet, though. Sometimes, you had to wait, let the storm pass, before it was time for words. He bent his head, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, rocking slightly from side to side, giving her time to run herself out of tears, for the moment.
It didn't matter to him what she'd done, what she'd been forced to do, either by circumstances, or by men in the name of science ─ Steve would never believe that she would hurt someone if she had any other choice. There was a time for peace, and a time to fight. And the fighting was never pretty. What little he understood about his own... mythology, showed him punching Hitler, and the more credible sources talked about how his weapon had always been a shield, something that protected and defended.
They never once mentioned his service pistol, glossed over the fact that, as a guerilla team, the Howling Commandos couldn't take prisoners, and Steve had been their leader, giving the orders. He'd killed countless men, and it sat heavy with him at times; but he had the strength of his conviction to help alleviate his guilt. It had been war, and he could never see any other choice, any better choice than the ones he'd made.
Saying any of that wouldn't help, though, and quite possibly would make it worse. So Steve continued to just hold Rogue.
After quite a few, long minutes, his sensitive hearing picked up some quiet popping noises, and he realized he was hearing street firecrackers going off. That meant soon, the City would be setting off their own.
Loathe as he was to bring it up, Steve kissed her hair, just behind her ear, and murmured, "Do you still want to go watch the fireworks?" Whatever she wanted, he knew he wasn't going to be letting her go.
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Steve just kept quiet, though. Sometimes, you had to wait, let the storm pass, before it was time for words. He bent his head, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, rocking slightly from side to side, giving her time to run herself out of tears, for the moment.
It didn't matter to him what she'd done, what she'd been forced to do, either by circumstances, or by men in the name of science ─ Steve would never believe that she would hurt someone if she had any other choice. There was a time for peace, and a time to fight. And the fighting was never pretty. What little he understood about his own... mythology, showed him punching Hitler, and the more credible sources talked about how his weapon had always been a shield, something that protected and defended.
They never once mentioned his service pistol, glossed over the fact that, as a guerilla team, the Howling Commandos couldn't take prisoners, and Steve had been their leader, giving the orders. He'd killed countless men, and it sat heavy with him at times; but he had the strength of his conviction to help alleviate his guilt. It had been war, and he could never see any other choice, any better choice than the ones he'd made.
Saying any of that wouldn't help, though, and quite possibly would make it worse. So Steve continued to just hold Rogue.
After quite a few, long minutes, his sensitive hearing picked up some quiet popping noises, and he realized he was hearing street firecrackers going off. That meant soon, the City would be setting off their own.
Loathe as he was to bring it up, Steve kissed her hair, just behind her ear, and murmured, "Do you still want to go watch the fireworks?" Whatever she wanted, he knew he wasn't going to be letting her go.