Steve Rogers Story: Modern Royalty Chapter 21 — Defying The Stars (Part 2)

  

Chapter 21: Defying The Stars (Part 2)

As the convoy began its trek from the hospital, Bucky sank into the back seat. What had just happened? This Victoria woman swooped in, grabbed the reins of their lives, and just… played God. What left him even more puzzled was Steve’s uncharacteristic compliance. Something wasn’t adding up. But until he could figure out what that was, he’d have to do as told.

The convoy split in two—one half toward the Avengers Compound, the other, Bucky guessed, toward Steve and Sharon’s new place.

 

The compound's heavy steel gates groaned shut behind the SUV. Bucky adjusted the brim of his baseball cap and leaned over to open the door with his right hand, ignoring the dull ache radiating up his shins as he hopped out of the vehicle.

 

A familiar figure emerged around the corner ahead, instantly putting him on guard. But as she drew closer, Bucky felt the knot of tension in his shoulders loosen. It was only Sarah, looking equally haggard, yet radiated relief at the sight of him.

 

Without a word, she closed the distance between them and pulled him into a fierce embrace. Bucky stiffened momentarily before melting into her arms, tucking his face into the familiar swell of her neck as she clutched him tight. He breathed her in deeply, revelling in the soothing scent of her shampoo.

 

"Goodness..." Sarah drew back just enough to cradle his face between her palms, momentarily glancing back at the convoy. "I'm so damn glad you're back."

 

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the words shrivelled up in his raw throat. What could he possibly articulate after the meeting with Steve and the PR beast?

 

Seeming to understand, Sarah simply nodded and looped her arm through his, turning them both toward the residential wing. "Come on, let me get you settled. You okay to share my suite, right?"

 

His mouth twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile cracking through his impassive mask for the first time since the last time he’d seen her.

As she guided him through the secluded quarters, she glanced back for the umpteenth time.

 

“I, uh… I thought Steve was being discharged today too… Did something happen? Are they holding him back for observation or something?”

 

Bucky thought back to Victoria’s list of possible explanations, waiting until they were seated in Sarah’s living area behind closed doors before answering her question.

 

“Sarah, sweetheart, I hate to have to tell you this… He and your sister felt it was time for them to get a place of their own. No point in delaying the inevitable, you know?”

 

“He… No, but they’re…”

 

“You didn’t see him today, Sarah. Steve’s not in the greatest shape. He’ll likely need around-the-clock care for at least another week, and Sharon’s the only one he trusts for the job.”

Bucky was flailing, forming an explanation of his own by using a combination of Victoria’s accepted scenarios.

 

“Right…” Sarah choked, forcing out the word. “Right, yeah, of course. Of course, you’d want the one you love to take care of you…”

 

To see, firsthand, how the lives of others (read: Steve and Bucky) were affected by her actions, Sarah had made yet another vow to herself. One, keep the boys at a safe enough distance from the quicksand that was her life, and two, avoid drama like the plague. Live a life so banal, she never graced the cover of another tabloid. And if that meant accepting her sister’s engagement and playing nice, so be it. She could be friends with Steve. At the very least, she could try to be happy for him.

 

“…Speaking of, let me run you a bath before the others drag you off to get your new arm fitted…”

 

Sarah bustled about the ensuite, her movements quick and jerky as she adjusted the water temperature. "You're going to love this tub. It's got jets that'll work wonders on those poor muscles of yours. Oh, and I've got this fancy eucalyptus essential oil… supposed to be great for healing wounds."

 

Her voice carried a forced brightness, words tumbling out rapid-fire as she flitted from cabinet to drawer. Bucky leaned against the doorframe, watching her with both amusement and concern. He recognised this manic energy. It was classic Sarah, kicking into overdrive when she needed to keep her mind occupied.

 

"And I have these little waterproof pillows for your neck. Genius invention, really. I swear they've saved my sanity on more than one occasion after a rough day on set."

 

Bucky’s jaw ticked ever so slightly. He knew what she wasn't saying, what she was desperately trying to avoid thinking about. Steve’s absence. The unspoken implications hung in the air, despite Sarah’s valiant attempts to fill the silence with inane chatter.

 

But he wouldn't push. Not now, when the wounds were still so raw. Instead, he simply nodded along, letting her release this nervous energy.

 

As Sarah darted past him to grab fresh towels from the linen closet, Bucky took in the little touches that made the lavish bathroom uniquely Sarah’s. A collection of high-end moisturizers and serums lined up with military precision on the vanity. The electric toothbrush in its charger, its cheery pink hue in contrast to the sleek chrome surroundings.

And there, peeking out from behind the frosted shower door, was Sarah’s signature peach shampoo.

 

The sight of it hit Bucky with an unexpected wave of emotion. How many times had he caught a whiff of that scent on her hair after returning from a long, gruelling mission? It had become inextricably linked with comfort in his mind.

 

"Alright, your aquatic paradise awaits," Sarah announced, breaking into his reverie.

 

With a playful shove, she ushered him fully into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her. As he caught one last glimpse of her strained smile, his heart ached, knowing the turmoil she was hiding behind that brave façade.

Bucky sank into the steaming water with a barely suppressed groan of relief. As the heat began to work its magic on his aching muscles, he reached for the glossy magazine he'd surreptitiously slipped from Sarah’s dresser. The garish cover practically screamed at him, a blurry paparazzi shot of Sarah’s face emblazoned across it.

 

His jaw clenched as he flipped to the feature article, bracing himself for what he was about to read. The words seemed to leap off the page, each sentence more sensationalised than the last:

 

"Rising Star's Fall from Grace: Sarah Carter’s Shocking Sex Scandal Leads To Arrest!"

 

Bucky’s grip on the magazine tightened as he delved deeper into the explicit details. The article painted a vivid picture of Sarah’s arrest, describing how she'd been led away in handcuffs in Buffalo, New York. It speculated wildly about her involvement with a Canadian drug ring, citing anonymous sources who claimed she'd been at it for years.

 

His stomach churned as he read the detailed account of an alleged sex tape that had been subsequently taken down from its original platform, complete with a description of her dishevelled appearance and distinctive features—features Bucky knew intimately. The little tattoo just below her hip bone, the scar on her inner thigh… The writer seemed to take perverse pleasure in emphasising how far America’s sweetheart had fallen.

 

But it was the section on Sarah’s relationship with Steve that truly made Bucky’s blood boil. The article delved into their long-standing friendship, twisting innocent interactions into something far more scandalous. It implied the all-American girl-next-door unashamedly throwing herself at America’s well-loved hero, Captain Rogers.

 

"Sources close to the pair claim their bond goes far deeper than mere friendship," the article proclaimed. "One has to wonder what secrets they’re hiding."

 

Bucky’s knuckles whitened around the magazine's edges. While he didn’t know the whole truth of their complicated history, he knew it didn’t deserve to be reduced to tawdry gossip and baseless accusations.

 

---

 

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ping, expelling yet another wave of dark-suited figures into the bustling lobby. Their polished shoes clacked against the marble floors in perfect unison.

 

Agent Koenig glanced up from his desk, his eyebrows furrowed. This was the third such group in as many minutes. He'd been with the organisation since its early days, but he'd never seen anything quite like this.

 

"Geez Louise," he muttered to Agent May, dialling Agent Coulson’s extension. "You ever see so many lawyers in one place?"

May could only shake her head, watching as the latest group marched purposefully toward the Situation Room. Their faces were set in grim masks of determination, glares sharp enough to make you involuntarily piss yourself. These weren't your run-of-the-mill legal advisors… Oh, no, these guys looked ready for war.

 

Throughout the building, a ripple of unease spread as word of the lawyers' arrival filtered through the ranks. Conversations hushed, replaced by worried whispers. Whatever was happening, it couldn't be good news.

 

In Communications, Sitwell peered out of his office, watching another group of suits file past. "Holy shit," he breathed. "I haven't seen this many lawyers since the Mjolnir fiasco back in '11."

 

Agent Blake shook his head. "Nah, this is different. Look at 'em… they're like freaking stormtroopers or something. Whatever's going down… it's big."

 

Coulson wasn’t picking up, driving Koenig to pop another blood pressure pill. He speedwalked down to a restricted area, his fingers flying across his phone’s keyboard as he fired off several text messages.

 

"Code Blue."

 

“The lawyers are here, Coulson!”

 

“Where the hell are you?”

 

"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, eyes darting between the screen and his surroundings. The usual bustle of the office had faded away, replaced by eerie stillness as he neared the back hallways of the Situation Room.

 

As Koenig rounded the corner, his gaze still fixed on his phone screen, he collided with something solid. The impact sent him stumbling backward, his device clattering to the floor.

 

“Watch it!"

 

The familiar voice cut through his disorientation, his head snapping up as he found himself face-to-face with Assistant Director Coulson.

 

"I've been trying to reach you—"

 

"I gathered as much from the dozen messages blowing up my phone." Coulson cut him off, taking in their exposed position. “How many lawyers are we talking? The whole team?”

“I don’t know, but there sure are a lot of them.”

 

The colour drained from Coulson’s face. For a moment, he seemed to age a decade before Koenig’s eyes.

 

“And where’s Fury? Does he know?”

 

“Oh, yeah. He’s with Cap as we speak.”

 

The heavy security door to the Situation Room loomed ahead, its biometric scanner glowing a soft blue in the dimness.

 

“I’ll go in, in the meantime. Try and defuse the situation,” Coulson nodded, holding his breath as he pressed his palm against the cool surface.

 

The device took a second to read his prints and, with a soft beep, the lock disengaged. Coulson pushed the door open, his stomach twisting as he stepped directly into the heart of the Situation Room.

“Well, here goes nothing…”

 

The sudden silence was deafening. A sea of faces turned toward him, their expressions a unified mask of grim displeasure. The room was packed to capacity, a veritable who's who of S.H.I.E.L.D. brass and legal minds crowded around the central table.

 

“What kind of ship are you running down here, Coulson? It’s one shitstorm after the other. I thought this was a law enforcement and counter-terrorism government agency… not the headquarters for Entertainment Tonight.”

 

Coulson squared his shoulders, keenly aware that his next words could make or break not just his own career, but the fate of the Avengers as well.

“It looks bad, I know. But Everhart is nothing but an insignificant local journalist. She doesn’t carry much clout.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You think Everhart’s the one we’re concerned about? We’re up against influential publications here… Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, Screen International… If this leads to rioting on Capitol Hill again–”

 

“It won’t! Captain Rogers returned today and we plan to reiterate some rules. In fact, Fury’s with him right now. If push comes to shove, we’ll sit Barnes down and–“

 

“You’d better see to it that push doesn’t come to shove!”

 

Agent Coulson felt the heavy weight of accusatory stares boring into him. While a highly decorated agent and Fury's right-hand man, he was not accountable for this PR nightmare. But because of how highly he regarded Captain America, he wasn’t about to stand by and watch the US government tear down the Avengers.

 

---

 

Down in the bull pen, Sarah settled into her cubicle, the familiar buzz of office activity surrounding her. She flexed her fingers, poised over the keyboard, trying to ignore the curious glances from passing colleagues.

 

"Hey, stranger," a cheery voice cut through Sarah’s concentration. She looked up to find Nat leaning against her cubicle wall, a steaming mug of coffee clutched in her hands.

 

"Nat," Sarah greeted, forcing a smile. "How's it going?"

 

Natasha’s eyes darted around before she leaned in conspiratorially. "It's like walking on eggshells around here. You can feel the tension." She took a sip of her coffee, grimacing slightly. "Even the break room java tastes more bitter than usual."

 

Sarah chuckled softly. "And here I thought it was just me and my insecurities."

 

"Oh, honey, you're not imagining things,” Nat snorted. “The higher-ups have been in and out of closed-door meetings all week. And don't even get me started on the army of lawyers that’s just descended."

 

A chill ran down Sarah’s spine. She'd been deliberately avoiding the news, trying to keep her head down and focus on the task at hand. But Nat’s words confirmed her worst fears. The fallout from her media scandal was far from over.

“Steve chose the wrong day to come in…” Nat continued, oblivious to Sarah’s inner turmoil

 

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Sarah’s fingers froze over the keyboard, her breath catching in her throat. "Wait, Steve’s... here? He’s back? Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

 

Her mind raced, memories of the night in the hospital flooding back. Steve’s battered body, the machines beeping ominously, the crushing weight of guilt and fear...

 

She hadn't seen him since that first, terrible visit. Hadn't spoken to him, hadn't known if he was even cleared to return to work. And now he was here, in the same building, probably feeling just as lost and exposed as she was.

 

Sarah pushed back from her desk on unsteady legs. "I, uh... I need to find him… to see him… to, to talk about–"

“I can’t let you do that.”

 

Nat’s fingers wrapped around Sarah’s wrist, halting her mid-step. The sudden tug sent a jolt through Sarah’s already unsteady frame, causing her to stumble back against the cubicle wall. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, darted between Nat’s face and the grip on her arm.

 

Nat’s gaze softened, but her grip remained firm. She couldn't risk Sarah bolting, not when the situation was already balanced on a knife's edge. "Listen to me," she said, leaning in close. "You and Steve… You guys were good together. Were being the operative word.”

 

A flicker of defiance sparked in Sarah’s eyes, but it was quickly extinguished by the reality of their predicament. Her shoulders sagged, and she slumped back into her chair, the fight draining out of her.

 

“He wanted you, you wanted Hollywood… And now you’re pining for him when he’s engaged to your sister…? Honey, you’re victims of unsynchronised passion.”

“You’re telling me I can’t even be friends with him? What the hell? Why is everyone so hell bent on keeping me away from Steve?”

 

Nat’s expression softened further. She reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing her hand over Sarah’s fidgeting ones.

 

“Stay out of it. Trust me on this.”

 

“Natasha! How can you–“

 

“Let him go, Sarah,” Nat cut her off, gazing down at her with an intensity she’d never seen from her before.

 

---

 

Meanwhile, several floors up, Steve strode down the corridor in his brand new uniform. His jaw was set, eyes forward as he navigated the crowded hallway. He'd barely taken three steps when a firm hand clasped his shoulder.

 

Steve turned to find himself face-to-face with Fury, his expression grave. Without another word, Fury steered Steve toward a private elevator, overriding the system with a simple voice command. As the doors slid shut behind them, sealing them off from the chaos erupting throughout the building, Steve felt a weight settle in his stomach.

 

Fury cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the descending floor numbers. “I ever tell you the story of how I came to be Sarah’s godfather?” he asked, leaning against the steel railing.

 

“Sarah told me you used to work with their father…?”

 

Fury nodded, smiling wistfully. “I delivered her myself. Right here in this building, believe it or not… Damn kid couldn’t wait any longer; two months premature.”

Steve’s lips quipped up into a small smile. It wasn’t hard to picture baby Sarah, eager to get on with life. Envisioning Fury with a fragile preemie baby in his arms, however…

 

“I made sure to always be there for her. Every birthday, every dance recital, every Christmas… That wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was protecting her.”

 

Fury swallowed thickly, turning his back on Steve as he gazed out the window.

 

“Protecting her wasn’t always easy because it often came across as punishment and injustice. In her teens, she never understood that what I did was for her own good… Sometimes, we have to do unpleasant things to protect the ones we love.”

Steve’s jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead, his reflection in the polished metal doors a mask of barely contained frustration. He'd known this conversation was coming, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.

 

The elevator continued its descent, each floor bringing them closer to the reality they both had to face. Fury turned slightly, studying Steve’s profile.

 

“Your interaction with Sarah from here on out is to be limited. That was made clear, right? Steele explain everything to you?”

 

Steve’s eyes flashed, a storm of emotions brewing behind them, but he nodded all the same.

 

“I know what you mean to her, so believe me when I say this hurts me too,” Fury continued, a hint of sympathy creeping into his tone. “But for the sake of the team, your team, Cap’n… don’t just play the role, live the role. Especially in front of the lawyers and media. Be the doting, protective fiancé they expect you to be. You need them to believe that is who you are. The public image we've crafted for you is your shield, Rogers. Don't forget that.”

 

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival. As the doors began to open, Steve finally turned to face Fury. His expression a mixture of pain and resignation.

“Okay… But what if I’ve changed my mind?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Fury met his gaze, unflinching.

 

“Nick, I accepted those terms long before Sarah came back. I never thought I’d ever see her again, you know that. Everyone knows that. You saw what I monumental wreck I was when she–”

 

“Do the words ‘breach of contract’ mean anything to you, Cap’n?” Fury cut him off, taking a menacing step closer. Super soldier or not, Fury feared no man. His eyes, normally calm and calculated, now burned with an intensity that made Steve’s words die in his throat.

 

“Stark, Romanoff, Barton, Banner… How do you think they’d feel about the Avengers’ disbandment? What about Barnes? After everything he’s been through, being part of this team finally gives him purpose. You wanna take that away from him?”

 

Steve’s breath caught in his chest. He knew Fury was manipulating him, dangling the fate of everyone he cared about in front of him like bait. His loyalty to the team, to S.H.I.E.L.D., was deeply ingrained in every fibre of his being.

“This is bigger than you and Sarah… It always has been. You have your teammates and the reputation of an entire organisation depending on you. In every sense of the word, this is what you signed up for.”

 

With that, Fury stepped back, allowing Steve to move past him into the hallway. As Steve walked away, he felt torn in two. On one side was Sarah, the pull of his heart, the promise of a future he'd long dreamed of. On the other was his duty, his loyalty to the Avengers and the mission that had defined his life as Captain America for so long.

 

Steve paused at the end of the hallway, his palm raised to the biometric scanner. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, his expression was one of determination, but his eyes betrayed the conflict raging within. He had made his choice… for now, at least. Knowing that someday, somehow, he would have to reconcile his heart with his duty.

 

---

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