This is a work of fanfiction. No profit is being made.

All done. Thanks for reading everyone!

Steve blesses Bruce for recommending a company that is actually open on Christmas day and sends her flowers. He doesn't see her so he's not sure how they go over but he figures she's not impressed since the box of vintage style candies he sends her the next day ends up in the mail room with a note telling everyone to take as much as they want.

He is unsure how to proceed so he takes a couple days to carefully consider his options. Clint calls it sulking. Steve finds himself unable to argue with that assessment when he spends the weekend after Christmas sitting in his apartment alternating between watching the snow fall outside his window and drawing sketch after sketch of Darcy.

He stares down at his latest rendering. She's sitting in one of her oversized armchairs, head thrown back in laughter. It's from the last time he talked to her, before the kidnapping, before his idiotic attempt at protecting her. He had stopped by to return a book. She sat him down and made him discuss it with her because it was the first in her favorite series. He actually managed to say something clever and funny. When she laughed, she laughed with her whole body. First curling over and pressing her face into her hands like she was trying to keep the laughter from escaping, then giving up and letting it consume her.

When he left, he had the next book in the series and the conviction that this was a relationship he wanted to pursue. Then she was taken and he hadn't even had the courage to return the book in person. He had mailed it back to her. They hadn't interacted frequently but, every time they did, he left feeling lighter, less lonely and more optimistic. He wished he could tell her how much she meant to him. He looked at the picture again and was struck by an idea.

He quickly tore the page from his sketchbook, flipped it over and wrote it all down. He wrote down every hope he had before the abduction, his fear and anger at every delay in getting her back, his horror at finding her broken and bleeding body, his desperate desire to keep her from ever getting hurt again, how sorry he was for not being there when she needed him, how beautiful she looked the night of the party and how much he wanted to hurt Fandral for not realizing how lucky he was to have her on his arm, how much he wanted her back in his life because when she was around he didn't feel lost.

It was a page full of rambling and random thoughts, he was sure it didn't make much sense but every word was the painful truth. Before he could talk himself out of it, he ran up the stairs to her apartment and slipped the page under her door.

He spent the next day kicking himself. He kept checking his phone and e-mail to see if she had contacted him. She hadn't.

By the time he got home from work, he was convinced she was never going to speak to him again. It was only a matter of time she reported him and had him banned from contacting her. His mind was so consumed with pessimism and self-disgust that he didn't notice the item balanced on his door knob until he had his key in the lock.

It was a book. He stared at it, momentarily confused before he realized what it was. It was the third book in the series he had borrowed from Darcy. He seized it in both hands. Did this mean he was forgiven? At the very least, she was willing to let him back in her life and that was so much more than he deserved. He opened it to browse through the pages and realized there was a piece of paper lucked inside the cover. It was a flyer for the SHIELD New Year's Eve party. On the bottom was a scrawled note. Find me at midnight.

Since headquarters was located right off Time's Square, SHIELD threw a party every year. The agency spent a sizable amount on food and entertainment. They said it was to reward everyone for a year of hard work. Steve suspected it had more to do with keeping their agents close and sober in case anything happened.

Which came in handy when a rogue scientist smoke bombed the crowd in the square with a compound that allowed him to take control of everyone who inhaled it.

Just once, he would like to have a date that the universe didn't interfere with, Steve thought to himself as he helped a group of agents barricade the front doors. He had just arrived when the bombs had gone off.

"How does this building not lockdown?" Steve asked the security guards that were helping him brace the doors as the other agents in the lobby hunted down items to build a barricade.

"It's administration and training. The only thing important here are the personnel files. The vaults are impenetrable and rigged to blow if anyone unauthorized gets in." The man grunted and adjusted his stance as a desk was slid in front of the doors. Several other pieces of furniture followed. He removed his earpiece and handed it to Steve. "We've got this now. Go stop it."

Steve ran for the stairs. "This is Rogers. Where do I go?"

"Suit up and get to the roof," Fury directed.

Clint and Natasha were already there when he arrived, along with several other senior agents. Fury was off to one side yelling into a phone. Clint perched on the edge of the building, peering down the street towards the square. "What's the situation, Hawkeye?"

"Guy's on top of a building down the street. Something weird on his head."

"The device that's controlling this?"

"No way to know until we get to him," Natasha said.

"Where's the chopper?"

"There was a break-in at the DC office. Hill took it to oversee the investigation. Fury's trying to get a loaner."

"That's going to take too long." Steve looked down the side of the building to the mass of people swarming against the side of the building, trying to climb on top of each other to reach the second story windows. The ones in front were getting ground against the building. If they weren't dead yet, they would be soon. He looked across the street to the other buildings. "Can you attach a line to that building."

"Of course," Clint replied.

"Then let's go."

The hardest part of the fight wasn't taking down the bad guy. It wasn't even getting to him. It was trying not to hurt all the controlled civilians in the way. The screaming started almost immediately after he crushed the device under his shield. Midnight came and went while they coordinated with the police and assisted with the rescue efforts. It was well after dawn before Steve found a moment to sit. He fished a chair out of the pile of furniture against the window in one of the break rooms. He slumped in his seat and leaned his head against the wall until he heard someone enter the room.

"Hey you."

"Darcy," He sat up. Her outfit was as messed up as his suit. Blood soaked the knees of her pants and the front of her sweater. She was carrying two steaming cups that he desperately hoped were coffee. "Are you okay."

"Yeah." She looked down at herself and winced. "Got conscripted by the medicos."

"Sit down. I'll get another chair." He started to get up but she crossed the room and pressed him back down. She slipped into his lap and handed him a cup.

"I like this better."

"This is definitely better." They sat there holding each other and sipping coffee until a cleaning crew shooed them out. Together they found a ride back to the Barracks and, when it came time to part, they both paused reluctantly.

"We've got a lot of things we need to talk about but I really don't want to be alone tonight," she told him.

"Come on," he pulled her down the hall to his apartment. "You don't ever have to be alone again."

When Steve dragged himself back to headquarters for debriefing, Clint smirked at him. "I heard you pulled your head out of your ass and got the girl."

Steve smiled. "Yeah, I did."