Chapter Twenty-Nine: Steve And Sarah's Swan Song (Part 1)
T-minus 48 hours until the Carter/Rogers wedding…
Exactly two days before the big wedding, it was all
systems go. Between Maria Hill and Victoria Steele alone, they’d invited select
media outlets for an exclusive look at the wedding setup and to interview key vendors.
This way, they could ensure the coverage highlighted Steve in a positive light.
The two women had a common goal, but their
perspectives were vastly different. To Victoria, Steve Rogers was nothing but
another high-profile client in urgent need of an improved public image. But to
Maria, Steve was her colleague and friend; it was impossible to remain
detached.
“Let’s talk exclusive inside scoops,” Victoria
began. “I’m thinking venue décor, guest list… maybe a sneak peek at the
ceremony layout?”
Maria nodded, scrolling through her extensive to-do
list. “Agreed. Sounds like it’d make a great public interest piece. I know the
town’s already abuzz after the leak. If we do this right, this wedding could be
a significant cultural event.”
“The blonde reporter… always lurking around the Avengers
Compound…”
“Christine Everhart?”
“Yes! She’s quite the silver-tongued reporter, isn’t
she? I want to give her exclusive access. Over the years, she’s done more harm
than good for the Avengers. But if she feels a sense of reciprocity for being
given privileged information…”
“…she’ll be more likely to provide favourable
coverage.”
Victoria snapped her fingers, pleased they were on
the same page. “Correctamundo!”
Maria understood, given the circumstances, priority
was to create a positive media frenzy. And once they’d leaked the wedding
venue, that’s exactly what had happened. People were all too eager to follow
the event, and the buzz kept Steve and Sharon in public conversation.
Visibility and relevance was nowhere near a concern.
But after her conversation with Steve, Maria felt
she wanted to do something for him that he could be proud of. Something unrelated
to the wedding.
“You know,” she started, spinning the stylus between
her fingers,” we could also highlight a charitable component… showcase Steve’s philanthropic
values.”
“Go on…”
Maria shrugged as if it were obvious. “Steve’s top
two charities are for veterans and military support, and community and disaster
relief. Donations in lieu of gifts is kinda perfect. What could he and Carter
need, anyway?”
Victoria grinned devilishly. “Hill, that is genius!
I’ll get right on that. I’ll ‘accidentally’ let it slip to the press.”
“No, no… let me handle this one. You have enough on
your plate.”
She had zero intention of leaking it to the press,
of course. This was a gesture for Steve and Steve alone, something he could
look forward to amid the wedding chaos.
************************
T-minus 29 hours until the Carter/Rogers wedding…
On the quaint streets of Westerly, Rhode Island, a
buzz of excitement filled the air as large trucks advanced toward Ocean House.
The normally peaceful seaside town was transformed, with roads blocked off and
curious onlookers gathering at every corner.
Tiffany, a local bakery owner, wiped her hands on
her apron as she stepped outside her shop. She squinted against the sunlight,
watching yet another convoy of vehicles laden with equipment roll past.
"Can you believe this circus?" her neighbour,
Tom, called out from his hardware store. "I haven't seen this much
commotion since that big storm back in '12."
Tiffany shook her head, amusement and exasperation
on her face. "At least the storm gave us warning. This wedding... it's
like it sprung up overnight."
“Who says it’s a wedding?”
“What do you think that big ol’ tent up there is
for?”
Down by the waterfront, a cluster of news vans had
set up camp. Reporters in pressed suits paced back and forth, speaking urgently
into their phones or scribbling in notepads.
A young journalist, her press badge swinging from
her neck, approached a couple in their early twenties. "Any idea who might
be tying the knot tomorrow?"
The young man chuckled, throwing his arm around his
girlfriend’s shoulders. "We actually have a bet running with our friends. For
all the fuss they're making, it could either be Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce,
or Captain America and Sharon Carter. Never seen anything like it in my 24
years here."
By twilight, the enormous white marquee at Ocean
House stood out against the coastal backdrop. Security guards patrolled its
perimeter while a group of teenagers meandered closer, hoping to glimpse any
celebrity guests.
T-minus 17 hours until the Carter/Rogers wedding…
The sun had long since set, but Ocean House blazed
with LED spotlights. Despite the steady drizzle, workers scurried about like
ants, manoeuvring heavy tables and chairs into precise formations beneath the
marquee.
"Careful with that!" shouted a
harried-looking woman in a headset, gesturing wildly at two men carrying an
ornate centrepiece. "That vase is on loan from Tony Stark! And costs more
than your yearly salary! "
By 20h00, rows of elegantly draped tables surrounded
a gleaming dance floor, its surface reflecting the thousands of twinkling
lights strung overhead. Workers paused briefly, admiring their handiwork before
moving on to their final task.
And by 21h00, a convoy of sleek, blacked out
Cadillacs wound their way through the rain-slicked streets. As they approached
Ocean House, a tremor of excitement rippled through the gathered crowd.
"Here they come!" hissed a photographer,
his camera at the ready. Flashes erupted like lightning, illuminating the cars
for brief seconds as they glided past.
From their vantage point right in front of the
property, news crews trained their long-range lenses on the procession. A
reporter, her hair flattened by the drizzle, spoke animatedly into a
microphone.
"…I’m seeing many blacked out Cadillacs pulling
in right now," she said, her voice vibrating with excitement. "Of
course, Sarah Carter and close friend Althea Vasilios… From the Obamas and Macrons
to the who’s who of high society… all are rumoured to attend. This wedding is sure
to be the event of the decade!"
Meanwhile, three hours away at the compound, Steve
and Tony briefed the team on travel arrangements and what to expect for the coming
hours. Steve stood at the head of the Chinese takeout-laden table.
“First off, fair warning, it’s going to be a circus
from here all the way to Rhode Island. So, you know, apologies in advance.”
“Those of you who’re virgins to this sort of thing…”
Tony added, gazing pointedly at Scott, “be vigilant! Reporters, journos, anyone
with a press badge… They are not your friends. Take our word for it; they’re
ferocious.”
Scott scoff-laughed, searching the room for backup.
“Can’t really be that bad. What’s the harm in answering a question or two, am I
right?”
Surprisingly, Bruce was the one to answer. Given his
own experience, his feelings toward the general media were shaped by mistrust,
anxiety, and caution. “Spoken like a virgin… No, these people would sell their
soul to the devil in their pursuit of a story. It’s in their nature to uncover
and expose. And even if they don’t, they sensationalise everything. They
have a knack for twisting the most innocent comment into a full-on fabrication.
When the entire country turns its back on you and call you derogatory names,
then we’ll talk…”
The room fell silent for a moment. Only the inner
circle knew of Bruce’s personal battle; he wasn’t one to divulge much about his
past. However, it wasn’t exactly a secret that he preferred anonymity and often
avoided the media altogether.
Tony clapped him on the back before clearing his
throat and turning his attention to the team. “Alright, we’re veering off topic
here… Half of us, those in the bridal party, will drive down tonight. The other
half will make the trip in the morning. And for the love of God, do not be
late…”
“In other words… No parties, no booze, no strippers,
no fun at all,” Clint muttered, casually leaning against the wall.
“Exactly. Yes.”
“Just as a blanket approach,” Steve concluded, “let’s
not treat this as a celebration, alright? For all intents and purposes, this is
a mission. So let’s conduct ourselves accordingly.”
Bucky raised his glass of scotch. "To your last
night of freedom, pal!"
************************
As the door clicked shut behind Steve and some of
the others, a collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. Nat and Tony
exchanged knowing glances, their postures relaxing now that the man of the hour
had departed.
"He's wound tighter than a spring, huh?"
Bruce muttered, slinging his oversized garment bag across the back of the sofa.
Tony, sprawled across an armchair, chuckled. "Can
you blame him? Tomorrow's a big day. Cap’s finally settling down.”
“Settling down? More like getting tied down.
We’ve all seen how she is with him. How they all are with him. Never
thought he’d end up with a Carter… Except maybe for Sarah."
Tony raised an eyebrow at Bruce’s observation,
biting his tongue.
“His big day… Gosh, can you believe it? Our boy’s
getting married.” Nat mused, a faraway look in her eyes. “Feels like just
yesterday we fished him out of the ice.”
“Please don’t start, Romanoff. I’m saving my tears
for the actual real wedding, and I’ve been doing really well thus far.”
As the words spilled from Tony’s lips, the room
tensed.
“What do you mean, ‘real’ wedding? Are the
Carters hosting a second ceremony we’re not invited to?” Bruce enquired, his
brows knitted together.
Nat considered keeping up the pretence in loyalty to
Steve, but the wedding was less than 24 hours away. What was the point?
“What? No! Geez, you need to get out of the lab
more. The whole thing’s a sham. This is S.H.I.E.L.D.’s wedding. Not Steve’s.”
Bruce sat up straighter, alarm evident on his face.
“Wait, what?”
As Bucky headed for the exit, his eyes were drawn to
a lone figure at the ground-floor bar. Sarah sat on a bar stool, her fingers drawing
imaginary patterns in the condensation on her beer bottle. He hesitated for a
moment, torn between leaving and approaching. It had been days since they last
spoke; he could very well be met with unflinching rejection. Ultimately, given
that they were still each other’s dates for the wedding, curiosity won out.
She looked up as Bucky slid onto the stool beside
her and signalled the bartender for a drink. He used the moment to study Sarah’s
profile. She looked impeccable, as always. Not a hair out of place, makeup
flawless, even off duty at this late hour. But there was something in the set
of her mouth, a tightness around her eyes.
“Can't believe tomorrow's the big day… Ready for
your speech?”
Sarah’s fingers stilled, her eyes meeting his with uncharacteristic
weariness. "As ready as I’ll ever be. How about you?"
“Oh, I've got it all planned out. Embarrassing
stories, check. Heartfelt moments, check. Tissues for the crowd, double-check.”
“Wow. Always the overachiever,” she smirked,
twirling her earring.
“Ah, you know me. Go big or go home.”
Sarah’s lips curved into a smile that didn't quite
reach her eyes. “Yeah… Yeah, I do know you,” she said wistfully.
Her melancholic tone made Bucky’s heart ache. Sarah
never hid the fact that she wasn’t eagerly anticipating the wedding, but he
also knew, deep down, that he himself factored into her current state of mind,
too.
“Everything okay? You seem a bit... off. More
pensive than usual.”
“Just wedding jitters, I guess. Not even my wedding
and I'm nervous.”
“Sarah...” Bucky sighed, pressing his mouth into a
thin line.
The silence between them stretched uncomfortably
until Sarah couldn't help but steal a glance at him. “Do you ever wonder… if
things had been different?”
“Different how?”
“I don't know. Just... different.”
Bucky paused, considering her question. “Sometimes...
But then I remember we're exactly where we're supposed to be.”
“Huh,” she mused. “How philosophical of you.”
Another moment passed, Bucky narrowing his eyes as
he assessed Sarah’s reflective disposition. “What’s on your mind, Carter? Something
you're not telling me?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic. I’m an
actress, remember?” she giggled half-heartedly, nudging Bucky’s shoulder with
hers. “And weddings… they tend to make me think about… stuff.”
Sarah’s gaze drifted to the elevator bank, watching
Steve wheel his luggage toward the exit. Something in her expression made Bucky’s
chest tighten.
"Listen," he said, clearing his throat.
"If you need anything..."
"I'm fine, Bucky," Sarah cut him off, her
tone gentle but firm. She stood, smoothing down her dress. "We should head
out too. Wouldn’t want to delay the bridal party."
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Steve And Sarah's Swan Song (Part 2)
T-minus 6 hours until the ceremony…
It was barely sunrise when Marion St Claire, the
wedding planner Pepper had hired to take over, strode through the grand doors
of Ocean House. Behind her, a large army of assistants followed, each clutching
a tablet and earpiece.
"Alright, you know the drill," Marion
started, her voice commanding. "I want every petal in place, every napkin
folded to perfection. This isn't just any wedding, this is the event of the freaking
century. If any of you so much as deliver the wrong floral arrangement to the
wrong suite, you’re done."
Her team dispersed like a well-oiled machine, like
the Avengers preparing for a mission—determined and efficient. Two assistants
made a beeline for the kitchen, ready to oversee the final preparations for the
five-course meal. Another headed towards the beachfront, where workers were
already setting up the elaborate ceremony space.
Under the oversized marquee, a flurry of activity
erupted. Florists wove intricate garlands along the makeshift stage while the soft
strains of the string quartet filled the air as they rehearsed. All the while,
Marion moved from station to station, her keen eyes missing nothing. She
adjusted a centrepiece here, repositioned a chair there… her perfectionism
evident in every gesture.
Meanwhile, at the front desk, the concierge staff
engaged in their own controlled chaos. Behind the counter, rows of exquisite
garment bags hung, each bearing a designer label and a name card.
"Sergeant Barnes’ suit has arrived,"
whispered one staff member to another, carefully hanging a slate blue tuxedo in
a transparent garment bag behind the counter.
"And Sarah Carter’s gown? Is that it?"
asked her colleague, eyes widening at the sight of a smoky blue creation being
wheeled in on a rack.
The head concierge, a distinguished man with silver
at his temples, oversaw the process with eagle-eyed attention.
"Remember," he murmured to his staff, "absolute discretion.
These are not just clothes… they're works of art, and our guests' privacy is
paramount."
************************
Bags and boxes were strewn all over Sarah and Althea’s
shared suite. As part of her endorsement agreement with Chanel, Sarah’s outfit
had long been laid out. Althea, on the hand, still frantically sifted through her
options… Prada, Lanvin, or Louboutin.
She stood before the ornate full-length mirror,
holding up a shimmering crimson dress against her body. "What do you think
about this one?" she asked, her head tilting to the side.
But Sarah wasn't looking. Her gaze was fixed downward
as she paced back and forth, chewing on the tip of her acrylic nail.
Althea frowned, tossing the dress onto the
king-sized bed. "Earth to Sarah? Hello?"
"Sorry, what?"
With a sigh, Althea turned back to the bed.
"Never mind. You've been a million miles away all morning."
When no response came, Althea glanced up, catching Sarah’s
reflection in the mirror. Her spaced-out friend had drifted towards the door,
her hand hesitating on the handle.
"Where are you going?"
Sarah froze, her face a composed mask of innocence. "I
was just... going… to see the groom…"
“You’re telling him?”
“No! No, no, it’s not that. I want to wish him well,
that’s all.”
“Oh…” Althea paused, considering Sarah’s sudden vulnerable
demeanour. “If you want, I could tell him for you? No need to make this day any
harder than it is. I mean, geez, you’re here, right?”
“No, I think I want to. It’d be good to let
him know I don’t hate him… And something like that needs to be said
face-to-face, not via messenger. Plus, you know, it’s Steve. I want it to be
just us. It’s weird that we haven’t had a single moment alone in ages. It’s as
if the universe is conspiring against us or something.”
Althea nodded. To those not in the know, it
certainly did seem bizarre that there were always others around when
Steve and Sarah were in close proximity. Still, she attempted one last time to
sway Sarah’s decision for fear of her friend spiralling all over again.
“I could wait outside the suite if you need
backup…?”
“No, I’m good,” Sarah chuckled softly, “but thanks.”
************************
Sarah made her way down the corridor, the gilded
sconces blurring in her peripheral vision as her focus narrowed to the path
ahead.
Her brain, unhelpfully, decided now was the perfect
time for a trip down memory lane. Fragments flickered through her mind: the
feel of the hardwood floor beneath her bare feet during midnight wanderings,
the soft creak of Steve’s bedroom door, whispered conversations and hushed
laughter in the dark.
Sarah shook her head, willing the images away. This
was so not the time for reminiscing. That particular activity was now
filed under ‘Things We Don't Do Anymore’, right next to ‘Drunk
Texting Celeb Exes’.
Her heart picked up speed with every door she
passed. By the time she reached the last door on the left, it was pounding so
hard she was sure the sound would give her away before she even knocked.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
Her palms were sweaty, her mouth dry. Sarah briefly considered turning tail and
running, maybe changing her name and moving to a remote island where
attractive, complicated super soldiers were strictly prohibited.
Before her courage could completely abandon her, Sarah
raised her hand and rapped her knuckles against the door. The sound seemed
impossibly loud in the quiet hallway.
And then... she waited. Every muscle in her body
tensed as she strained to hear any movement from within. The seconds stretched
on, feeling more like hours. Sarah stood there, a bundle of nerves in cute silk
pyjamas and fluffy flats, wondering if it was possible to spontaneously combust
from anticipation.
As she waited, teetering on the edge between hopeful
excitement and paralysing fear, Sarah couldn't help but think that this moment
would either be the start of something new or the most mortifying experience of
her adult life. Knowing her luck, it would probably be a bit of both.
The door swung open and Sarah’s breath caught in her
throat as her eyes locked with Steve’s. For a moment, the tidal wave of
emotions she'd been trying to keep at bay overwhelmed her to the point of
wanting to flee (again!). But she remained rooted in place, desperate to speak
the words heavy on her heart.
Steve stood motionless in the doorway, looking just
as he had on countless mornings years ago—dishevelled and endearing—evaporating
Sarah’s carefully prepared speech from her mind.
"Sarah..." he finally broke the silence,
her name falling from his lips like a sigh.
She smiled softly in return, tucking a strand of
hair behind her ear. “May I come in?”
“Yeah, of course, of course. To what do I owe the
pleasure?”
Without waiting for an invitation, Sarah plopped
herself on the nearest sofa, nervously running her palms up and down over the satin
overlay of her robe. “I just… wanted to see you, I guess.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. To be honest, I didn’t
expect to see you here at the wedding, much less my suite.” Steve dragged a small
upholstered bench closer, positioning it in front of her. He sat down, leaning
forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving her face.
“How could I not? Can’t let my best friend get
married without a proper send-off… and an apology.”
Steve shook his head slightly. “No. Sarah, please.
No need for apologies.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, it was as if no
time had passed at all. All the shared memories, the laughter, the pain…
Sarah let out a shaky breath. “I need you to know
that I don’t hate you… I could never hate you. Things got complicated
for a hot minute, but–“
"You don't have to explain," he
interrupted softly. "I think I understand."
“You’re still my best friend, Steve… And I want you to
be happy.”
“Yeah, I want you to be happy too,” he admitted
quickly, his voice rough with emotion.
Sarah nodded, a single tear escaping despite her
efforts. Steve’s thumb brushed it away, the gesture gut-wrenchingly familiar.
“I’m always going to love you. You know that, right?
All this… it changes nothing.”
Sarah felt tears pricking at her eyes. She blinked
them back, determined to maintain her composure. “I’ll always love you too,
Steve.”
She reached out, her hand hovering over his for only
a moment before he accepted the gesture, gently caressing the top of her hand. As
they sat there, the sounds of the wedding preparations filtering in from
outside, Sarah felt a weight lifting from her shoulders. It wasn't closure… no,
sir, not by a long shot… but it was something.
T-minus 1 hour until the ceremony…
This was it. The final stretch. Forget Harry and
Meghan, forget Priyanka and Nick, forget all the Kardashians… The
Carter/Rogers wedding had them all beat by a landslide.
The door to Steve’s suite burst open, a wave of
boisterous energy flooding the room. Bucky, Tony, Sam, Clint, Thor, and Bruce poured
in, their suits immaculate but their grins carefree. The scent of expensive
cologne mingled with the sharp whiff of alcohol as they brandished bottles of
top-shelf whiskey…. And, of course, Asgardian Ale.
After pouring generous measures into crystal
tumblers, Tony pulled Steve aside. "Last chance to bail, buddy. It’s not
too late; you know we’ll have your back."
But as Steve glanced behind Tony’s shoulder, he
caught sight of Bucky chatting rather animatedly with the other guys, remembering
Fury’s words: “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?”
He returned his gaze to Tony and shook his head. “I’m
good. I’ve got this.”
Outside, beyond the hotel's tightly guarded
perimeter, a frenzy of activity unfolded. Camera flashes exploded like
fireworks, glimpsing guests as they made their way into Ocean House. Reporters
jostled for position but respected the barrier, envious of the media outlets
allowed beyond the perimeter.
"We're seeing what appears to be the arrival of
Hollywood's elite," one journalist practically shouted into her
microphone, her perfectly coiffed hair whipping in the sea breeze. "This
wedding is already being hailed as the most iconic of the century!"
As the time for the ceremony drew near, the tension
was palpable. Hotel staff moved with increased urgency, their earpieces buzzing
with last-minute instructions. Security personnel stood at attention, their
watchful eyes scanning for any hint of disruption to the painstakingly-planned
event.
In a quiet corner of the lobby, Sarah stood alone
for a moment, smoothing down her dress as she waited for Bucky. She took a deep
breath, steeling herself for the ceremony ahead. As she turned to rejoin the
bridal party, she caught a glimpse of Steve through an open door, laughing with
his groomsmen. Their eyes met briefly, a lifetime of emotions passing between
them in that fleeting moment.
The sound of the string quartet in the distance
signalled the approaching hour. It was time. As guests began to take their
seats and the wedding party assembled, the air vibrated with anticipation.
History was about to be made, and everyone present knew they were witnessing
something truly extraordinary.
************************
The string quartet's melody shifted, and the swish
of silk and the scrape of chairs filled the air as the congregation rose in
unison. A collective breath was held as all eyes turned toward the entrance, where
Sharon appeared, radiant in her ivory gown. The family friend at her side
beamed with pride, but Sharon's focus was elsewhere, no doubt in search of
Steve.
At the altar, two photographers crouched low, their
cameras clicking in rapid succession to capture the bride’s entrance. The sound
was barely audible over the music, but the flashes caught the shimmer of Sharon's
dress and the sparkle of tears in Cece and Lily Carter’s eyes. Whether they
were tears of joy for their granddaughter and niece, or tears of joy that they were
now permanently linked to Steve Rogers, remains unclear.
As she continued down the aisle, Sharon's steps were
graceful enough. The perfect bride to oblivious onlookers. But to the handful
who knew, there was tension in her shoulders, and a slight tremor in her hands
as she gripped her bouquet. The smile on her lips wavered slightly, a fleeting
shadow of uncertainty passing across her features as her gaze darted from face
to face…
…And then, finally, at the end of the aisle, her
eyes landed on Steve, and all trepidation ceased.
But Steve’s head was bowed, his gaze fixed firmly on
the ground before him. His jaw was clenched so tight that the dull ache in his
teeth radiated toward his ears. Even as Sharon drew nearer, Steve remained
motionless, a statue of suppressed apprehension amidst the sea of smiling
faces. The contrast was undeniable: the joyous bride, resplendent in white, and
the groom, rigid and unmoving, refusing to meet her eyes.
The music swelled to its crescendo as Sharon reached
the altar. Still, Steve did not look up. The atmosphere seemed to thicken, charged
with an electricity that had absolutely nothing to do with joy. If anything, it
was discomfort. But it went unnoticed, chalked up to wedding jitters. Everyone
has them. Why not Captain America?
When Sharon took her place before Steve, his Adam's
apple bobbed once, hard, as if he were swallowing back deep-seated regret. And
as his eyes finally lifted to meet her gaze, the weight of his sigh rippled
through the air between them, witnessed only by those in the first few rows.
For a fleeting moment, the grand spectacle around
him faded away. In its place, he saw the sun-dappled deck situated at the rear
of the compound, the panoramic view of the surrounding forested area. The faces
of only their closest friends and family surrounded them, calm and secluded.
And there, walking towards him, was a different figure… one with familiar
laughing eyes and a radiant smile that mirrored his own.
The vision dissolved as quickly as it had come. Steve
blinked, and once again he was surrounded by the lavish decor, the unfamiliar faces
and acquaintances, and the incessant click of cameras. He scanned the sea of
guests for the face in his vision, desperately trying to hold on for a few more
seconds. Sarah met his gaze, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his
eyes.
The tightness in his chest intensified as he fought
to maintain his composure. His lips, which in that other life would have been
stretched in an exuberant grin, now pressed into a thin line. He struggled to
soften his expression, to summon even a shadow of the happiness he knew he
should be displaying, but the effort only seemed to deepen the furrow between
his brows.
The officiant's words washed over Steve in a haze,
his responses automatic and hollow. Each "I do" and "I
will" felt like a line delivered by an actor who had stumbled onto the
wrong stage, reciting lines from a script that wasn't meant for him.
Then, as Sharon slid the ring onto his finger, it
was as if the cool metal burned against his skin. For the second time, Steve’s
gaze drifted from Sharon's face and searched for Sarah’s. Her eyes, usually so
vibrant and expressive, deliberately avoided the altar. The sight sent another
sharp pang through Steve’s chest, like he was saying goodbye to her all over
again.
When the officiant's voice rang out, declaring Steve
and Sharon husband and wife, the words seemed to come from a great distance,
muffled and surreal. Steve leaned in, his lips meeting Sharon's in a kiss that
felt like nothing but a performance. And as the thunderous wave of applause and
cheers erupted from the congregation, he felt oddly detached from it all. An
out-of-body experience, watching the scene unfold from somewhere far above.
Sharon's arm linked through his, and they began
their walk back down the aisle. Flower petals rained down upon them, catching
in Sharon's veil and sticking to Steve’s tuxedo. His feet moved on their own
accord, his body going through the motions while his mind struggled to process
what had just transpired. One moment, they were in the conference room, signing
NDAs, and the next, they were kissing at the altar.
Throughout it all, one figure remained motionless
amidst the standing, cheering crowd. Sarah sat rooted to her seat, leaned
forward with her chin resting in the palm of her hand. Her eyes welled with
tears as the newlyweds passed her row, neither turning to look nor joining in
the celebration. Only when Steve and Sharon disappeared toward the marquee, she finally allowed herself to close her
eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek.
************************
It wasn’t long before Bucky realised someone was
missing. As he made his way back to the ceremony space, the sounds of
celebration fading into the background, he found Sarah still seated where the
rows of chairs now stood empty.
He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of her. Her
shoulders were slumped forward; even from behind, he’d never seen her look so
miserable.
Without a word, he stepped forward and lowered
himself onto the chair beside her. The fabric of his suit brushed against her
arm, but she neither flinched nor acknowledged his presence. At first, he chose
to forgo breaking the silence with empty platitudes, knowing that, in this
instance, words were inadequate. Instead, he mirrored her posture, leaning forward
in the chair and letting out a long, quiet breath. His eyes flicked to her
face, noting the slight redness around her eyes.
Finally, unable to fight back the urge to comfort
her, he spoke three simple words. “It’ll be okay…”
Sarah turned her head slowly, meeting Bucky’s gaze
for the first time since he'd sat down. “Easy for you to say.”
“No,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “it’s not easy for
me. What part of this should be easy for me, exactly? You and Steve, or you and
me?”
He held her gaze steadily without expecting an
answer, his expression one of concern and understanding. The sounds of the
reception filtered in from the distance… laughter, music, the clink of
champagne glasses… it almost felt cruel to have to do this here, now, amid the celebration.
“Listen… I didn’t want to bring this up right after
the ceremony, but we’re gonna have to tell people at some point. We can’t hide
it forever.”
Sarah inhaled a shaky breath, her chest rising and
falling with the effort. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, knowing
she had no right to be upset. “No, I know… Our deal was to wait until the
wedding,” she agreed. “You can break the news to the others, if you want. I’ll
take care of the rest. You’re officially free to go.”
Bucky’s hand moved, hovering for a moment before
gently squeezing Sarah’s. Her fingers stilled under his touch, and for a brief
moment, her eyes closed and her fingers tightened around his. Another tear
escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away,
allowing herself this small display of vulnerability with one of the few people
she trusted most.
Suddenly, Sarah jerked to her feet, more than ready
to put several miles between her and Rhode Island. But before she could take another
step, Bucky’s hand shot out, grasping her elbow. The sudden contact froze her
in place, her body going rigid under his touch.
"Sarah, stop," Bucky demanded, maintaining
his hold on her arm. "Where are you going to go?"
"Anywhere but here," she murmured, her
voice cracking on the last word.
Bucky moved to stand in front of her, blocking her
path. "You can't just run away," he whispered. "Not like this… I
get that these past few days have been hard, but just ‘cause we’re over doesn’t
mean I don’t care. I don’t want to see you run and hide again.”
"Why not?" she challenged. "Give me
one good reason to stay."
"Because you're stronger than this. And because
you have people right here who love you and who want to support you. Just…
don’t run.”
For a moment, it seemed as if she just might listen.
“Steve’s not the only one, Sarah…” he continued. “I meant what I said last
night. That if you ever need anything…”
As Bucky trailed off, Sarah pulled out of his grasp
and stormed out of the ceremony space. And this time, he let her go.
Her feet carried her towards the hotel, passing the
grand marquee. The sound of her sister’s voice through the speakers drifted
from the stage, drawing her attention like a moth to a flame. Despite every
instinct screaming at her to run, she found herself inching closer.
From her vantage point, partially hidden behind a
decorative topiary, she could see the wedding party gathered under the
twinkling lights. Her sister, radiant in her white gown, stood with a champagne
flute raised high.
"...and to my wonderful husband," Sharon's
voice rang out. "Steven Rogers, you've made me the happiest woman in the
world. I look forward to standing by your side every step of the way. Here's to
our forever!"
The crowd erupted in cheers once more, but Sarah’s
eyes were fixed on Steve as the word forever pierced through her mind,
releasing a flood of memories.
She saw herself, years younger, a high school
senior, running into him in the hallway at the compound….
…Then, upon her return after graduation, throwing
her arms around Steve, positive that this friendship was the kind to last a
lifetime…
…She remembered their innocent sleepovers that Cece
and Lily had initially frowned upon, and the first time she was allowed to
attend Tony’s elaborate parties. That night, she recalled, was when things had shifted
between them. He’d called her beautiful and spent most of the evening with her
when he could have spent it with any other woman...
…She relived the angst of the ‘does he, doesn’t
he’ feeling she constantly felt. While the evolution of their friendship
was an easy, natural progression—stolen moments, hushed laughter, heated
glances—the thrill of their non-relationship relationship wasn’t always easy…
…Memories turned bittersweet. Arguments in private, classic
storm-offs and slammed doors…
…And then, the night the Earth stood still. Tony and
Pepper’s wedding. What had started as a slow, hesitant first kiss, culminated
in an overflow of passion…
…Rapidly leading to a series of poor decisions,
unfortunate events, and ultimately, tears.
Sarah blinked, the realisation hitting her like a
physical blow. It was over. It was all over. Steve marrying her sister
marked the final nail in her proverbial coffin. She had pushed away not one,
but two men who had loved her. Steve, now lost to her forever, and Bucky, whose
love she hadn’t nurtured the way she should have. In that moment, surrounded by
the echoes of her sister’s happiness and her own might-have-beens, Sarah felt
the true depth of her loneliness. Despite the fame, despite the fortune, she
had navigated herself into a lonely harbour of her own making.
Thank you so much for reading! 🙏 Your support means the world to me, so if you enjoyed this chapter, please show some love by liking the video and leaving a comment with your thoughts… It really helps the story reach more people! 🎥💖
Watch Episodes 29-30 Here:
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