Chapter Thirty-One: Bittersweet Victories
Steve barely slept, the weight of yesterday's vows
still pressing on his chest. He twisted the gold band on his finger. The metal
felt foreign, almost parasitic against his skin. He yanked it off, the absence
bringing instant relief. The black silicone ring Sharon had given him sat on
the nightstand. Out in the field, beneath the gloves, it’d feel better, he told
himself. Steve slid it on, flexing his fingers. It moulded to his skin, a
second flesh. Not great, but it’d do—the unofficial motto of newlywed life,
apparently.
Shuffling to Sharon's bedroom door, he paused in the
doorway, his eyes drawn to her in a soft cream nightgown as she prepared for
her day. His wife. The word still felt alien on his tongue, even after months
of cohabitation.
Steve’s eyes lingered for a moment longer, drinking
her in as if for the first time. When she caught his reflection in the mirror,
her lips quirked into a small smile that did strange things to his insides. It
was the kind of smile that said, "Yes, I see you being all broody and
mysterious in the doorway, you big dork."
"Something I can do for you, husband?"
Steve leaned against the doorframe, his smirk easy
and charming. "Just making sure you aren’t sneaking out the window,
wife."
She turned, arching an eyebrow. "Please. If I
wanted to escape, I'd use the front door. I'm not afraid of a little
confrontation."
"No," Steve chuckled, "that you are
not."
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine a world
where this was real. Where the ring on his finger wasn't a prop in an elaborate
charade. Where the woman before him was the one who made his heart race,
instead of...
Steve pushed the thought away. Down that path lay
only pain and rejection.
Sharon tilted her head, studying him. "You okay
there, Rogers? You look like you're trying to solve quantum physics in your
head."
He shook himself, plastering on a soft smile. "I
know I said this last night, but… Thank you. Again. For agreeing to all this.
It was either you or Nat, and–“
“…she’d have never agreed…”
“Exactly,” Steve snickered. “She’d have understood
the assignment, sure, but I doubt she’d have complied.”
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m not pleased with the way
they’ve cornered you into doing something like this. I’m here in support of you.”
As Sharon turned back to the mirror, Steve’s smile
faltered. If circumstances had been different, if his heart wasn't irrevocably
tied to her sister, he could almost see it. A life with Sharon. Laughter over their
morning coffee, playful banter on missions, a partnership built on mutual
respect and affection.
But the 'almost' wasn’t nearly enough. Because no
matter how hard he tried, no matter how perfect Sharon might be, she simply wasn't
Sarah. And that truth was a constant ache, a reminder of what he couldn't have.
Steve pushed off the doorframe. "I'll start the
coffee. Any requests for breakfast?"
"Surprise me. Just remember, if you burn the
toast, I'm filing for divorce."
************************
As they entered the building, a chorus of
"Congratulations!" erupted. Steve’s hand found the small of Sharon's
back, a gesture he’d forcibly taught himself upon Fury’s advice. A tiny detail
to help “look the part”. She leaned into him, her smile dazzling as she thanked
their colleagues.
"Who knew Rogers had it in him?" Grant
Ward called out, grinning.
Sharon laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, you
have no idea."
Steve forced a chuckle, hoping the heat he felt in
his cheeks wasn't visible. "Alright, alright. Don't you all have threats
to neutralise?"
As the crowd dispersed, Steve’s gaze met Sharon's. A
silent understanding passed between them—another performance, flawlessly
executed. He squeezed her hand, a gesture that could be mistaken for affection
but carried a different meaning altogether.
"Knock 'em dead, husband," Sharon said,
loud enough for lingering ears.
Steve winked, playing his part. "Always do,
wife."
He made his way through the bullpen, briefly
glancing at the cubicle once occupied by Sarah during her “shadowing” days, nodding
at colleagues who offered additional congratulations. He still couldn’t
understand why she’d bothered to shadow and train with the agents, if only to
quit after a few months. But that was classic Sarah, he supposed. She was
always one to at least try something new. Perhaps she’d wanted to give
her family legacy another shot before jetting back to LA… whenever that was.
Steve stepped into the elevator and pressed the
button for the executive floor, his heartbeat quickening as the floors ticked
by. Alexander Pierce didn’t summon just anybody to his office. Was this
regarding the wedding? An assignment, perhaps? He fiddled with the faint
outline of the silicone ring beneath his glove as the soft ding announced his
arrival.
The elevator doors slid open silently and Steve’s
eyes scanned the entrance hall. Pierce stood outside his office, hands clasped
behind his back, an expectant smile on his face. The sight of Fury’s boss
waiting for him sent a jolt of anxiety through his system.
"Captain Rogers," Pierce called out, his
voice carrying easily in the quiet hallway. "Right on time."
Steve squared his shoulders and strode forward.
"I believe congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“From what I hear, the wedding was a roaring
success.”
“Yes, sir, it was. A little flashy for my liking,
but the Carters seemed pleased.”
“Hm,” Pierce nodded, seemingly in thought. “I’m sure
they were. Come on in… Let’s talk.”
Steve followed Pierce into the office; a space so
sleek it bordered sterile. Pierce gestured to a sectional couch before settling
into his own seat, leaning back with an air of satisfaction.
“I know this isn't... ideal. But I want you to know
that your sacrifice won't go unnoticed.”
“Sacrifice? We’re calling things for what they are
now? No more pussyfooting?”
Pierce sighed. “I understand your frustration, Captain,
but think of the bigger picture. This union will placate some very powerful
people.”
“And all it costs is my personal life,” Steve countered.
“Think of it as a long-term undercover operation.
One that will benefit not just the agency, but the entire country. I know you
had... other aspirations. Other attachments.”
Heat crept up Steve’s neck, a prickling sensation
that threatened to overtake his composure. He shifted in his seat, the leather
creaking softly.
“Sir, with all due respect–“
“Off the record, son? I understand this isn't easy,”
Pierce cut him off. “Marrying someone you don’t love. Just remember, this
marriage may be arranged, but it doesn't have to be a prison. Many have found
happiness in similar situations.”
“Guess I missed that in the S.H.I.E.L.D. handbook,”
Steve retorted, knowing full well what Pierce was implying. He’d be lying if
the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, albeit fleetingly. A ‘love the one you’re
with’ kind of situation.
The moment lingered, a knowing smile on Pierce’s
face. “For what it's worth, I'm proud of you.”
Steve’s gaze tracked Pierce as he rose from his
leather chair, meandering over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. He leaned his
forearm against the glass, the gesture casual yet somehow still imposing. Steve
could see the faint reflection of Pierce’s face in the window, his expression
unreadable.
“This job... it demands things from us. Things that
others couldn't begin to comprehend. And not many would make this kind of
sacrifice for their country, least of all with zero public recognition. It
takes a great man of fortitude to choose duty above all else. And Agent 13…
she’s been briefed on her role as well.”
“I’m sorry, her role?” Steve enquired, tension coiling in his gut at the trajectory of their
conversation.
Pierce pivoted on his heel, his eyes locking onto
Steve’s with a new level of intensity.
“To be the perfect political wife. And maybe, one
day, help you climb the ladder. You’ve shown remarkable dedication, Rogers. And
it's that kind of commitment that sets you apart."
Steve forced himself to hold Pierce’s gaze, fighting
the instinct to look away. There was something lurking behind Pierce’s eyes, a
glint of steel beneath the warmth he displayed. It sent a chill down Steve’s
spine. The words may well have been pleasant enough, but Steve sensed the menace
behind them.
Sarah sprawled across her bed in her childhood
bedroom, feeling every bit like the angsty teenager she once was. Her fingers
traced the glossy magazine page as if it were a crime scene photo, and in a
way, it kinda was… The murder victim, you ask? Her heart.
The headline screamed “Steve Rogers and Sharon
Carter: Exclusive wedding photo album and interview" in font so large
it might as well have been skywritten. Each word felt like a paper cut to her
soul, which was impressive considering how much emotional scar tissue she
thought she'd built up.
There was Steve, looking unfairly handsome in his
tux. Seriously, it should be illegal to look that good in formal wear when
you've just crushed someone's dreams. His arm was wrapped around Sharon's waist
in a way that was so familiar, Sarah half expected her own waist to feel
phantom limb syndrome.
At the sound of Lily approaching, she slammed the
magazine shut and shoved it under a pillow, trying to arrange her face into
something resembling "not at all obsessing over my sister's wedding to the
love of my life."
"You'll never believe what just landed in my
inbox!" Lily’s voice rang out, pitched high with excitement. “An email
from BlackStorm Entertainment…”
Earlier that morning, Sarah had stared blankly at
her laptop screen, the excitement of Brett Blackwell’s email not what she’d
expected. She'd dreamed of this moment for so long, imagined the elation, the
vindication. Now, it felt… inconsequential in the wake of her grief.
Her finger absentmindedly traced the trackpad,
scrolling through the message again. The words blurred, losing meaning. Just a
reading. That's all it was. No guarantees, no promises of escape from the ache
that had taken up residence in her chest.
Sarah mustered a wan smile, her voice flat. “Oh,
that. Yeah, I read it this morning.”
Lily’s excitement faltered for a moment, exasperation
creasing her brow. “Please. Control your excitement. It’s not as if we’ve been
working toward this for years.”
“Lily, I hate to break it to you, but it’s just a
reading. Dozens of girls will be there, all vying for the same part.”
"Be that as it may!" Lily waved the paper
emphatically. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s for Brett Blackwell and Ava
Storm. They don’t waste time on just anyone. This could be your big
break! Sarah, we could never have dreamt for something so huge… Have you
noticed that Brett’s even sent it from his own personal email…?”
"Yeah, sure," Sarah murmured, more to end
the conversation than out of any genuine conviction.
Lily’s eyes narrowed, following Sarah’s line of
sight to the Channel garment bag ready for collection. Inside that bag, she
knew, was the dress Sarah had worn to the wedding. Her lips thinned with
disapproval. "Oh, Sarah. You're not still pining over that, are you? This
is your chance to move on, to become the star you were always meant to
be!"
“Yeah, maybe I am. Maybe I’m still reeling from the
wedding. From everything, really. So this invitation… it just feels…
anticlimactic.”
“Nonsense. Sharon got her happy ending, now it’s
time for yours…” Lily replied, already tapping away on her phone. “Let’s see…
how about the grey, double-breasted YSL blazer, blue Stella McCartney shirt…
maybe pair those with light wash jeans? Put together but not too formal, showing
respect for the process but also blending in without standing out for the wrong
reasons.”
Sarah merely nodded along as Lily rattled off outfit
choices. A chance to work with Brett and Ava could change everything. It could
be her ticket out of this emotional quagmire, a reason to focus on something … anything…
other than Steve and Sharon's picture-perfect life and her breakup with Bucky. A
chance to reinvent herself, to become someone new.
************************
Sarah sipped her espresso as she tried focusing on
the producer's words. The reading had gone well. Better than she'd expected,
given the fog of grief that had clouded her mind for weeks.
"As you know, ‘Retribution’s Edge’ is a gritty,
action-slash-psychological thriller," the producer, a salt-and-pepper
haired man named David, was explaining. "Think 'Black Swan’ meets 'Gone
Girl’ with a strong emotional core."
His colleague, a vivacious woman with striking green
eyes, nodded enthusiastically. "Right, so the character, Sophia Kane, has
to be complex. Damaged. She's got this whole dark past that resurfaces
throughout the film."
“Hence, we’re looking for emotional depth and range,
physicality and action skills, versatility, and, of course, star power.”
Sarah nodded, her interest piqued despite herself.
"Sounds intense."
"Oh, it is," David agreed, his eyes
gleaming. "Now Sarah, I know your experience is, largely, Hallmark-esque
rom-coms. Feel good flicks… But you’ve recently trained with S.H.I.E.L.D.
agents, yes?”
Sarah’s stomach lurched at the unintentional dig. “N-not
so much the other agents; mostly Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark.”
“Brilliant! Perfect! ‘Cause I can tell you this, the
training for this film will be rigorous. Hand-to-hand combat, firearms
handling…”
The green-eyed woman leaned in, her voice dropping
conspiratorially. "But between us, Brett seemed pretty impressed with your
reading. I wouldn't be surprised if you got the call soon."
"What do you think, Sarah?" David asked,
his gaze intent. "Ready to dive into the world of Sophia Kane?"
Sarah took another sip of espresso, buying herself a
moment. She thought of the glossy magazine back home, of the emptiness that had
been her constant companion for too long.
"You know what?" she said, surprised by
the determination in her own voice. "I think I am."
Meanwhile, in another part of the sprawling
property, Brett Blackwell sat on a secluded balcony overlooking the lush
gardens. His partner and co-founder of BlackStorm Entertainment, Ava Storm, hovered
nearby, a tablet clutched in her hands.
"I'm not sure it's worth the risk, to be honest,"
Ava almost whispered, not wanting to be heard by potential eavesdroppers.
“Well, I vote she stays. No way I’m moving forward
with this film without her.”
“Even though she’s the least experienced?” Ava frowned.
“This girl is a Carter. Everything we want runs in
her blood… Intelligence, strength, tenacity… She’s S.H.I.E.L.D.-trained,
launched a successful music career mid-mental breakdown. I mean, who
does that? Everything she does is unprecedented; she’s a freaking unicorn!”
“Yeah, and drama and scandal follow her like a
shadow!”
“That's exactly why she's perfect for this role. She
knows what it's like to be hounded, to have her life dissected by the media. Not
to mention, it speaks of her relevance… People are always talking about her,
always wanting more of her. Ava, Sarah Carter is our star. She can channel all that
into Sophia. We'll use method acting if we have to. Immerse her in Sophia’s
world, help her find ways to deeply connect with the character…”
“Method acting?” Ava echoed, her eyebrows shooting
up. “Brett, you’ve seen her in recent press. That crazy cocaine/sex scandal,
the erratic behaviour with her sister’s husband. Are you sure she can
handle that level of immersion?"
Brett’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile.
"That's precisely why she'll excel at it. Her pain, her struggle… it's all
there, raw and real. We just need to shape it."
He leaned closer to Ava, placing a hand on hers. “Trust
me on this. Sarah Carter is going to deliver a performance that will shake
Hollywood to its core. We just need to push her to her limits."
As Ava nodded reluctantly, Brett turned back to the
view, his mind already racing with possibilities. In Sarah, he saw not just an
actress, but a canvas on which to paint his masterpiece… no matter the cost.
Tony sucked in a deep breath, the air burning his
lungs. Beside him, Pepper matched his pace, her sneakers crunching against the
gravel path.
"I just don't understand it," Tony said
between ragged gasps. "I specifically asked him… I said, ‘Last chance to
bail, buddy. It’s not too late’. It makes no sense."
Pepper shot him a sidelong glance, her expression
equal parts amusement and exasperation. "You’ve been going on about this since
the second we left Rhode Island. Can we please just enjoy our morning
run?"
Tony waved a hand dismissively, heedless of the
sweat beading on his brow. “All through the ceremony, all I kept thinking was,
‘Did we do enough to fight this?’”
“I thought you said S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t give you
guys a choice.”
"That’s exactly my point!" Tony persisted,
his voice rising. “S.H.I.E.L.D. slaps me on the wrists, forces Steve into a
marriage to change his image, and then threatens to disband the team if we
‘misbehave’. We didn’t even attempt to fight the system or plead our case…”
“Maybe… I don’t know, maybe it’s better this way?
Steve wouldn’t have agreed if he couldn’t envision a life with Sharon, right?”
“Better? C’mon, Potts, the man's eyes were dead
during the ceremony. I could see it, plain as day. And now, he's trapped, and
it's all because...”
Pepper arched a brow, her lips pursing in a
disapproving frown. “Don’t do it, Tony. Don’t you go assuming blame for this.”
“I wanna do something about this. No, I need
to do something about this. Fix it somehow. Get our voices heard.” Tony
insisted, his hands cutting erratic patterns through the air.
Pepper offered him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, but
what? This isn’t Target. You can’t just show up and demand to speak to the
manager…”
************************
Fury stood before the large holographic display, the
faces of the World Security Council members hovering in the air before him.
"Nick," Councilman Rockwell began, "we've
reviewed the details of your latest operation, and we must commend you on the
successful arrangement of Captain Rogers’ and Agent 13’s marriage."
The WSC members exchanged satisfied nods.
“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is where
the real work begins. Rogers still needs to be carefully monitored.”
“The marriage was just the first step. We need him
fully committed to our cause.”
Fury’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “With all due
respect, Rogers has always been loyal to the agency.”
“Loyalty can waver. Especially when personal
feelings are involved.”
“We can’t afford any… sentimental attachments
interfering with our plans.”
Fury inclined his head slightly, his lips pressed
into a thin line. Sentimental attachments… He knew that’d meant his
god-daughter. “Rogers understands the importance of his role.”
“Understanding isn’t enough,” Councilman Rockwell
interjected, his brow furrowed. “We need complete compliance. You need
to condition him, Nick. Make sure he bends to our rules without question.”
“Condition him? He's Captain America, not some–“
“Not some, what, Director? Choose your next words
carefully.”
Fury bristled at the interjection, but managed to
rein in his anger. “I simply meant that Rogers’ skills and judgement are
valuable assets.”
“Assets that need to be properly managed. Don't give
him too much slack.”
“Remember, Nick, Rogers is a means to an end.
Nothing. More,” Rockwell retorted, emphasising his last two words.
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because we'd hate to think you've grown
too... attached.”
“My priority is the success of our agency. Nothing
else.”
“Good. See that it stays that way. And keep us
updated on Rogers’ progress. We'll be watching closely. Don't disappoint us.”
The hologram flickered, then vanished, leaving Fury
alone in the darkened conference room. He exhaled slowly, wondering how it had
spiralled so far, so quickly. In the beginning, it was all about saving Steve’s
image for the sake of the Avengers. But once it became known that the
soon-to-be wife in question was Sharon Carter, the agenda got tossed out the
window. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about his image or even public
perception.
Of course, the Carter/Rogers union was vital for a
more positive, stable public image of Captain America as a loyal hero deeply
integrated into the system. It solidified his image as a team player aligned
with government ideals. And yes, selling the narrative of a "perfect
couple" who symbolise the union of old-world heroism and modern-day
S.H.I.E.L.D. values served to enhance their own agenda by promoting a sense of
unity and patriotism.
But marrying Steve to a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent also gave
the WSC a form of control over him. By entangling him with someone within their
sphere of influence, they could manipulate his decisions and actions through
Sharon. Even unbeknownst to her, they’d be able to gather intelligence on
Steve, ensuring they stayed one step ahead of him.
And it didn’t stop there. This marriage was a
strategic way to potentially secure powerful descendants for their own agenda
and keep the super soldier serum within their control… Sharon could become a
stabilising force that kept Steve from questioning authority too much or contain
his influence and prevent him from leading a larger resistance…
And now, Fury realised, he was the traitorous mediator
between the two worlds. He’d done nothing but enable the WSC, where he could
have chosen to protect Steve and spared his god-child some serious heartache.
************************
Later that afternoon, Tony sat across from Fury and
Nat, the remnants of their half-finished meals scattered across the tabletop.
“Hear me out… As selfless as it was, I feel that Steve
took the path of least resistance.”
“Least resistance?” Nat scoffed. “He married
Carter!”
“I’m not saying it was an easy route, it’s just… He
could have fought back. We could have fought back.”
Fury stirred his coffee, his eyes impassive.
"You know as well as I do that we didn't have a choice. The stakes were
too high."
"Since when do we sacrifice our own people,
Nick? You could have stopped this. If you really wanted to, you could have...
And you didn’t."
Fury grit his teeth as Tony touched a nerve, echoing
his own thoughts. “Even as the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., I’m a tiny cog in the
grand scheme of things. Concerns of this magnitude should be directed to those
who hold positions of global authority.”
“Fine. Hypothetically then… Was there ever another
way out? Something the rest of us could have done?”
Fury met his gaze evenly. “Rogers did what he
thought was right. There are people and causes one could, and should, fight…
and then there are others you just can’t. Sometimes, David doesn’t beat
Goliath. It's as simple as that.”
“What were to happen if we called their bluff?
Resisted. Took a stand.”
Nat leaned forward, her expression grave. “Tony,
Steve wrestled with his decision for months. If there was a way out, he’d have
found it.”
Tony shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. “Screw
this. Screw all of this. Come hell or high water, I’ll find a way.”
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 Episode 31 Here:
(Tags: steve rogers fanfic, steve rogers fanfiction, fanfic, steve rogers, fanfiction sites, fanfiction websites, adult fanfic, fanfic websites, adult fanfictions, fan fiction sites, avengers fanfiction, bucky barnes and steve rogers, bucky barnes steve rogers, captain america steve rogers, marvel fanfiction, best fanfiction sites, avengers fanfic, best fanfiction, ao3, wattpad, wattpad stories, steve rogers x reader, wattpad stories romance, best wattpad stories, chris evans, sebastian stan, blake lively, gossip girl scenes, modern royalty, youtube, youtube fanvid, marvel pov series, romance novels, wattpad stories, young adult literature, fanfiction.net, romance novel books, best romance novels, romantic love novels, ya novel, ya books, young adult books, best young adult books, young adult romance books, best ya books, romantic novels for adults, fantasy love story books, filmfiction, romantic love novels)
0 Comments