Silent Sunshine Part Five
Title: Silent Sunshine
Pairing(s): Harvey/Steve Rogers, Harvey/OC, Harvey/OC/Steve
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,178
Warning(s): Sex, character death
Summary: He can’t move past it. It hurts too much. But maybe, just maybe, he can start. (Crossover with movie-verse Captain America)
May, 1945
Harvey didn’t think New York had ever looked so dull. In spite of the celebrations going on everywhere, in spite of the bright flags and people dancing in the streets, it all looked so flat.
Harvey sighed and grabbed his bag, stepping off the train onto the platform, looking around. And there they were. Maria looked a bit weary, no doubt from the factory job she had been doing, but she was still beautiful. Charlie was slightly taller now as he came bounding toward Harvey and hugged him tight. Harvey picked him up and clutched him close, trying not to cry. Maria came over more slowly and hugged her husband. “Hey, soldier,” she said quietly.
“Don’t call me that,” Harvey said. “I don’t wanna be a soldier. Not now, not ever.” He put Charlie down and headed toward the car. His wife and son followed close behind, neither one speaking, seeming to sense his weariness. Maria drove them home, glancing at Harvey every few seconds as if to ask if he was all right.
He ignored her. Someday, he would celebrate with them. He would kiss Maria and play with Charlie. But right then, after months of fighting without his captain, he needed time to truly grieve for him.
Charlie leaned forward. “Daddy?” he said. “Is it true about Captain America?”
“Charlie!” Maria said warningly.
Harvey waved her off. He had to talk about it sometime. “Yes,” he said. “It’s true.”
“So the plane went down?”
“Yes.”
Charlie nodded. “He’s not dead, you know,” he said. “He’s Captain America. He can survive anything. He’s probably just hiding…making sure all the Nazis are really gone.”
Harvey looked at Charlie with no expression. If only that could be true…if only he could believe that Steve would come back someday.
“Charlie,” Maria said. “I know you read comic books and that can work in those, but that’s not how reality works. And right now, your father doesn’t need reminding of what happened.”
“It’s fine, Maria,” Harvey said. “I think we all need someone to believe in that.”
“Captain America will never die,” Charlie declared. “Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean that we can’t believe in him.”
*
That night, after Charlie was in bed, Maria went back to her own room to find Harvey sitting on the edge of the bed, simply staring ahead. She closed the door and went to him, laying one hand on his knee. He barely looked at her.
“Harvey, I know it hurts,” she said. “And I’ll give you time…time to mourn him.”
A tear ran down Harvey’s cheek. “I…I loved him, Maria.”
“I know,” she said. “I know you did…I think I would have, too, if I had known him better.”
“But…that’s not why…if I just loved him, I wouldn’t feel…I’m guilty, Maria. The day before he…before they went to the battle…he ordered me to stay behind…said he didn’t want me to get hurt…and I was so mad that he would leave me behind…I said…some stuff to him…the last thing I said to him…and he went down without even asking for me…”
“Harvey,” Maria said firmly. “It wasn’t your fault. You may have spoken in anger, but…he was a good man. He understood that you just wanted to stay with him. And if he chose not to take you, it was because he was afraid for your safety. And if you had gone, what would you have done? Gotten on the plane? Gone down with him and died as well? You’re not Captain America, Harvey. You couldn’t even hope to survive. He could…maybe. Charlie believes he can, anyway. And if you had gone down and died in the ocean, what would we have done? What would I have done?”
“You’d have gone on,” Harvey said. “You’re strong…stronger than I’ll ever be. No matter what you lose, you always get back up.”
Maria shook her head. “I couldn’t get up after losing you,” she said. “So say what you like about Steve…but he will always be my hero for making sure you came home.” She gently pulled Harvey down to lie on the bed, his head on her breast as though she was his mother. “And in one way, Charlie’s right. Captain America will never die. Not until we stop believing in him and what he stood for.”
Harvey nodded, hugging Maria around the waist. “I know,” he said. “And I do believe in him. I just…I wish he were here.”
“So do I,” she said. “So do I.” She smiled weakly. “And that’s not going to go away. But if you keep believing in him…that will make it easier.”
*
December, 1946
It did get easier. It took a long time, but it did get easier.
The first few months were hardest. Harvey kept expecting Steve to come through the door like so many of his other army friends did. Several members of the Howling Commandos showed up to commiserate with Harvey over drinks. Peggy Carter dropped in on one memorable afternoon where she spent half the time relaying what Steve had told her over the radio to Harvey and the other half comparing makeup notes with Maria. Howard Stark appeared frequently, being a fan of Harvey’s music in addition to a good friend to discuss Steve openly with since Stark didn’t have too many scruples when it came to what others might call devious behavior.
Charlie remained as loyal as ever to the idea of Captain America still being alive. Harvey didn’t mind. It eased his mind to know that Steve was still a hero of the highest caliber in Charlie’s mind. But when he watched the boys in the neighborhood at play, the largest with a trashcan lid painted to look like the shield, the rest declaring themselves their favorite of the Howling Commandos, Harvey felt even more pride when Charlie declared, “I wanna be Harvey Finevoice, who was Captain America’s best friend after Bucky and who kept the guys happy by singing every night!” It was a mark of pride that the other boys didn’t laugh at him.
Maybe the fact that Harvey had brought Captain America to their scrap drive helped with that.
And while he still missed Steve violently over a year later, with all of their help, Harvey was starting to heal. After all, Maria was right. As long as they believed in Captain America, he would never really die.
So it was with a feeling of high optimism that the family went out to the lake a few days before Christmas. Maria had suggested they go ice skating and Charlie had immediately jumped at the chance, pleading until Harvey agreed with a small smile.
It was a beautiful day, cold enough for the pond to be frozen but not so cold as to be unbearable. Charlie ran ahead excitably, periodically calling for his parents to hurry up. Harvey and Maria walked hand-in-hand and while Harvey wasn’t smiling, exactly, he at least looked more relaxed than he had since the war. He and Maria talked idly about this and that, mostly unimportant things like the stir caused at the Iowa State Fair with the introduction of a television and Stark’s news that he had found some HYDRA weapon in the ocean while searching for Steve. Little things. Normal things, for them at least.
They reached the pond and pulled on their skates. “Don’t go too far out,” Harvey warned Charlie. “Some of the ice might be thin.”
“I’ll be careful,” Charlie insisted.
So they skated. Harvey held Maria’s hand the whole time, happy to be close to someone, especially this beautiful, devoted, understanding woman. They went on the ice sometimes, but other times they were content to sit on a bench nearby and watch Charlie zoom around the pond.
Everything was wonderful…
And then there was a loud cracking noise, a scream of shock and Harvey was on his feet, dashing across the ice to where the ice had broken. “Charlie!” he screamed. “Charlie!” He got there and without second thought threw himself into the frigid water, searching…searching…
A few frantic minutes later, Harvey was pulling the tiny body out of the water, away from the pond…hoping…hoping…
Maria came running, pulling off her own coat and wrapping Charlie in it. “Hospital!” she screamed and Harvey scooped Charlie up in his arms and ran toward the car, trying to ignore the fact that Charlie’s skin had already turned blue and his breathing was far too shallow…
His breath stopped on the way. The doctor examined him and pronounced it too late.
It was a nightmare. It had to be. He couldn’t have lost them both, couldn’t have let both of them be taken by the ice. He was going to wake up any minute now…any minute, this would be over and he would be in bed with Maria comforting him…Charlie would come in and they would hug him…
Maria’s face was stoic. She had to be, knowing that Harvey was going to break down at any second as the doctor filled out the death certificate, citing hypothermia caused by an accident. Harvey could barely hear the words, too busy staring at the tiny body, willing him to wake up…wake up…wake up…
Eventually, Maria gently took Harvey’s hand and pulled him up. Led him out of the hospital, taking him home and putting him in bed. Harvey was too shocked to cry. He merely stared at the woman beside him, trying to remember who she was or why she was there…
Neither slept that night, or for many nights afterward. Harvey moved through life like a ghost, barely acknowledging anybody, not seeming to remember who they were. They spoke kindly to him, patted his shoulders, poured him drinks, but he didn’t care who was whom or what they did.
Nothing mattered anymore. So Harvey turned to the only thing he could think of. The whiskey that they kept in the cupboard. Shot after shot poured night after night so he could sleep without dreaming, poured during the day so he wouldn’t have to think about it. And it worked. Soon, he forgot why he was drinking, just remembering that he had to.
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Pairing(s): Harvey/Steve Rogers, Harvey/OC, Harvey/OC/Steve
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,178
Warning(s): Sex, character death
Summary: He can’t move past it. It hurts too much. But maybe, just maybe, he can start. (Crossover with movie-verse Captain America)
May, 1945
Harvey didn’t think New York had ever looked so dull. In spite of the celebrations going on everywhere, in spite of the bright flags and people dancing in the streets, it all looked so flat.
Harvey sighed and grabbed his bag, stepping off the train onto the platform, looking around. And there they were. Maria looked a bit weary, no doubt from the factory job she had been doing, but she was still beautiful. Charlie was slightly taller now as he came bounding toward Harvey and hugged him tight. Harvey picked him up and clutched him close, trying not to cry. Maria came over more slowly and hugged her husband. “Hey, soldier,” she said quietly.
“Don’t call me that,” Harvey said. “I don’t wanna be a soldier. Not now, not ever.” He put Charlie down and headed toward the car. His wife and son followed close behind, neither one speaking, seeming to sense his weariness. Maria drove them home, glancing at Harvey every few seconds as if to ask if he was all right.
He ignored her. Someday, he would celebrate with them. He would kiss Maria and play with Charlie. But right then, after months of fighting without his captain, he needed time to truly grieve for him.
Charlie leaned forward. “Daddy?” he said. “Is it true about Captain America?”
“Charlie!” Maria said warningly.
Harvey waved her off. He had to talk about it sometime. “Yes,” he said. “It’s true.”
“So the plane went down?”
“Yes.”
Charlie nodded. “He’s not dead, you know,” he said. “He’s Captain America. He can survive anything. He’s probably just hiding…making sure all the Nazis are really gone.”
Harvey looked at Charlie with no expression. If only that could be true…if only he could believe that Steve would come back someday.
“Charlie,” Maria said. “I know you read comic books and that can work in those, but that’s not how reality works. And right now, your father doesn’t need reminding of what happened.”
“It’s fine, Maria,” Harvey said. “I think we all need someone to believe in that.”
“Captain America will never die,” Charlie declared. “Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean that we can’t believe in him.”
*
That night, after Charlie was in bed, Maria went back to her own room to find Harvey sitting on the edge of the bed, simply staring ahead. She closed the door and went to him, laying one hand on his knee. He barely looked at her.
“Harvey, I know it hurts,” she said. “And I’ll give you time…time to mourn him.”
A tear ran down Harvey’s cheek. “I…I loved him, Maria.”
“I know,” she said. “I know you did…I think I would have, too, if I had known him better.”
“But…that’s not why…if I just loved him, I wouldn’t feel…I’m guilty, Maria. The day before he…before they went to the battle…he ordered me to stay behind…said he didn’t want me to get hurt…and I was so mad that he would leave me behind…I said…some stuff to him…the last thing I said to him…and he went down without even asking for me…”
“Harvey,” Maria said firmly. “It wasn’t your fault. You may have spoken in anger, but…he was a good man. He understood that you just wanted to stay with him. And if he chose not to take you, it was because he was afraid for your safety. And if you had gone, what would you have done? Gotten on the plane? Gone down with him and died as well? You’re not Captain America, Harvey. You couldn’t even hope to survive. He could…maybe. Charlie believes he can, anyway. And if you had gone down and died in the ocean, what would we have done? What would I have done?”
“You’d have gone on,” Harvey said. “You’re strong…stronger than I’ll ever be. No matter what you lose, you always get back up.”
Maria shook her head. “I couldn’t get up after losing you,” she said. “So say what you like about Steve…but he will always be my hero for making sure you came home.” She gently pulled Harvey down to lie on the bed, his head on her breast as though she was his mother. “And in one way, Charlie’s right. Captain America will never die. Not until we stop believing in him and what he stood for.”
Harvey nodded, hugging Maria around the waist. “I know,” he said. “And I do believe in him. I just…I wish he were here.”
“So do I,” she said. “So do I.” She smiled weakly. “And that’s not going to go away. But if you keep believing in him…that will make it easier.”
*
December, 1946
It did get easier. It took a long time, but it did get easier.
The first few months were hardest. Harvey kept expecting Steve to come through the door like so many of his other army friends did. Several members of the Howling Commandos showed up to commiserate with Harvey over drinks. Peggy Carter dropped in on one memorable afternoon where she spent half the time relaying what Steve had told her over the radio to Harvey and the other half comparing makeup notes with Maria. Howard Stark appeared frequently, being a fan of Harvey’s music in addition to a good friend to discuss Steve openly with since Stark didn’t have too many scruples when it came to what others might call devious behavior.
Charlie remained as loyal as ever to the idea of Captain America still being alive. Harvey didn’t mind. It eased his mind to know that Steve was still a hero of the highest caliber in Charlie’s mind. But when he watched the boys in the neighborhood at play, the largest with a trashcan lid painted to look like the shield, the rest declaring themselves their favorite of the Howling Commandos, Harvey felt even more pride when Charlie declared, “I wanna be Harvey Finevoice, who was Captain America’s best friend after Bucky and who kept the guys happy by singing every night!” It was a mark of pride that the other boys didn’t laugh at him.
Maybe the fact that Harvey had brought Captain America to their scrap drive helped with that.
And while he still missed Steve violently over a year later, with all of their help, Harvey was starting to heal. After all, Maria was right. As long as they believed in Captain America, he would never really die.
So it was with a feeling of high optimism that the family went out to the lake a few days before Christmas. Maria had suggested they go ice skating and Charlie had immediately jumped at the chance, pleading until Harvey agreed with a small smile.
It was a beautiful day, cold enough for the pond to be frozen but not so cold as to be unbearable. Charlie ran ahead excitably, periodically calling for his parents to hurry up. Harvey and Maria walked hand-in-hand and while Harvey wasn’t smiling, exactly, he at least looked more relaxed than he had since the war. He and Maria talked idly about this and that, mostly unimportant things like the stir caused at the Iowa State Fair with the introduction of a television and Stark’s news that he had found some HYDRA weapon in the ocean while searching for Steve. Little things. Normal things, for them at least.
They reached the pond and pulled on their skates. “Don’t go too far out,” Harvey warned Charlie. “Some of the ice might be thin.”
“I’ll be careful,” Charlie insisted.
So they skated. Harvey held Maria’s hand the whole time, happy to be close to someone, especially this beautiful, devoted, understanding woman. They went on the ice sometimes, but other times they were content to sit on a bench nearby and watch Charlie zoom around the pond.
Everything was wonderful…
And then there was a loud cracking noise, a scream of shock and Harvey was on his feet, dashing across the ice to where the ice had broken. “Charlie!” he screamed. “Charlie!” He got there and without second thought threw himself into the frigid water, searching…searching…
A few frantic minutes later, Harvey was pulling the tiny body out of the water, away from the pond…hoping…hoping…
Maria came running, pulling off her own coat and wrapping Charlie in it. “Hospital!” she screamed and Harvey scooped Charlie up in his arms and ran toward the car, trying to ignore the fact that Charlie’s skin had already turned blue and his breathing was far too shallow…
His breath stopped on the way. The doctor examined him and pronounced it too late.
It was a nightmare. It had to be. He couldn’t have lost them both, couldn’t have let both of them be taken by the ice. He was going to wake up any minute now…any minute, this would be over and he would be in bed with Maria comforting him…Charlie would come in and they would hug him…
Maria’s face was stoic. She had to be, knowing that Harvey was going to break down at any second as the doctor filled out the death certificate, citing hypothermia caused by an accident. Harvey could barely hear the words, too busy staring at the tiny body, willing him to wake up…wake up…wake up…
Eventually, Maria gently took Harvey’s hand and pulled him up. Led him out of the hospital, taking him home and putting him in bed. Harvey was too shocked to cry. He merely stared at the woman beside him, trying to remember who she was or why she was there…
Neither slept that night, or for many nights afterward. Harvey moved through life like a ghost, barely acknowledging anybody, not seeming to remember who they were. They spoke kindly to him, patted his shoulders, poured him drinks, but he didn’t care who was whom or what they did.
Nothing mattered anymore. So Harvey turned to the only thing he could think of. The whiskey that they kept in the cupboard. Shot after shot poured night after night so he could sleep without dreaming, poured during the day so he wouldn’t have to think about it. And it worked. Soon, he forgot why he was drinking, just remembering that he had to.
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