The Past Cannot Be Cured

Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

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Crossover fic: No Moon

Title: No Moon
Rating: K+
Words: 2,211

Summary: Within the five first times she sees him, he becomes the most important person to her. Post-Doomsday, Post Avengers. Captain America (Steve Rogers)/ Rose Tyler.

Author’s Notes: This one is something new. I liked the Avenger’s film, so obviously I had to do a crossover…

The song quoted below is ‘No Moon’ by Emmy Curl.


This night I have no moon
so I’ll shout and pray for you, my humble man
I can’t go without her
I have no light to see through the dark


The first time she sees him is when Pete sends her to New York to investigate some weird alien activity. She arrives at the most inopportune moment, of course. There’s some huge… thing attacking in the middle of the city, and there’s a group of people dressed in ridiculous outfits fighting it.

Things are on fire, and people around her are screaming and running for their lives. She shrugs – she’s used to chaos. It’s her element, now. She’s most comfortable when things are going to hell.

A wing off of a marble decorative angel flies by her face, and she finds herself being shoved to the ground. There’s a hand behind her head and a warm body above her.

“Ma’am, you really ought to get of here. This isn’t the best time to sight-see.”

The man has a nice voice, very American and soft despite the battle that's brewing around them. He helps her up, and she pushes her hair back, taking a look at the man for the first time. He’s dressed in this bright, somewhat gaudy outfit of red-white-and-blue.

Something near them crashes, and he’s pulling her tight to him, blocking them with a round shield.

“You really have to leave,” he urges. She doesn’t like people bossing her around, and she's put off for just a moment. Then she looks in his eyes and sees something so familiar.

He doesn’t belong either.

She nods, and he shoos her off, following behind her until she’s safely around the corner.


The second time she sees him, it’s in Stark tower. Tony Stark himself comes down to introduce her, a ginger woman in tow whose thumbs are moving over her Blackberry at lightning speed.

“Miss Tyler!” he greets, flashing her a smile that reminds her of Jack.

“Mr. Stark.” She nods at him and shakes his hand, rolling her eyes when he presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“It’s Tony, darling.”

Yeah, he’s very much like Jack.

The woman behind him shoots her an understanding smile. Tony leads her to a glass lift, and the three of them file into it. The view is phenomenal, rivaling that of Torchwood Tower.

“This is the CEO of Stark Industries – and my lovely lady friend, Pepper Potts.” Tony gives Ms. Potts an impish smile, which widens when the ginger shakes her head at him.

“Pepper, please,” the woman says, holding out her hand.

She nods, “Rose.” Pepper hums her approval.

The bell dings, and the door opens to a huge room that resembles the Torchwood ops room – all glass and chrome and shiny things. The furniture is warm and homey, though. It’s obvious that people use it often.

“Welcome to the SHIELD HQ.” Tony spins around, grinning.

“’s lovely,” she compliments sincerely.

They enter into another room. The huge table is occupied by eight people. Her eyes dart around, recognizing the people before her from the files she’d read.

“Everyone, this is Miss Rose Tyler.”

One man shoots up, his back ramrod straight. The people seated on each side of him jump bit, nervy in that way that way that all professionally trained killers are. She looks at him closely, recognizing him as the man who’d saved her from those lonely eyes he of his.

“Hello again.”

He nods politely and murmurs, “ma’am” before sitting down once again.

Everyone trades looks, unsure of what’s going on.

“Okay……” Tony starts up once more, bulldozing through the silence, "Rose here is going to be the ambassador between the Torchwood Institute and SHIELD. She’ll be working very closely with us on cases involving aliens.”

“Like… aliens aliens?” the Hulk, Dr. Banner, questions.

Tony nods. “Yup. Aliens like Thunder, here.” He slaps the back of a large blonde man on his way to a chair. Pepper ushers her to a chair near the head of the table.

Nick Fury stands. She’s met him on numerous occasions while establishing the new agreement between Torchwood and SHIELD.

“Miss Tyler has more experience with alien life than anyone alive,” Fury mentions, moving around the table in a rather stealthy manner. Thor shifts, looking ready to protest and Fury holds up his hand. “Yes, even more experience than you, Thor.”

“How is this possible?” Thor questions.

“I’ve been around.” No one seems to accept her answer, and honestly, she shouldn’t have expected them to. They’re a mistrusting lot, these heroes are. With good reason, though.

“I travelled extensively with a friend who was from a different world. I learned about different cultures, got into trouble, and learned how to get out of it." She looks down at her folded hands, " I also have this… ability… to know languages. Any alien that passes through, I can speak to them.”

Clint Barton speaks up, “yeah… Don’t we have computer programs for that?”

Her eyes darted to him, piercing. “Who do you think created those programs?”

He sits back, looking suitably chastised, if a bit impressed. 

“Now that that’s over, could you brief us on your people’s latest findings, Miss Tyler?” Fury takes his seat once more, motioning for her to take over.

She’s unused to so much attention being turned on her so quickly. 
These people want the facts. They’re not like the people at Torchwood who think she only got her job because of her father. No, they only know what she’s told them, and they’re just beginning to form opinions of her.

She likes it. She could make a place here.


The third time she sees him, she’s out getting coffee at her local Starbucks. She’s so fixated on watching the news, that when someone bumps into her, her coffee spills on the asphalt, and her papers fly. She leans down somewhat awkwardly thanks to her form fitting business skirt, muttering about rude New Yorkers. And then her papers are being handed to her, nicely stacked.

She looks up.

It’s him.

He offers her his hand, and she takes it.

“Thank you,” she says. He nods, thumb stroking her hand a bit before he realizes what he’s doing, and he drops her hand like it’s poisonous. She tries not to feel disappointed.

He seems to notice. “Let me buy you another coffee."

Despite her earlier disappointment, her first instinct is to say no. But she says yes instead. He asks her what she had, and she requests a decaf instead. She’s already nervous enough as it is – being around him makes her jittery. He nods and comes back with a large decaf and another coffee for himself. She takes hers, sipping happily.

He looks at her for a moment before taking a swig of his own coffee. They stand there in that semi-crowded coffee shop for a prolonged minute before he offers her his arm.

“How about a walk?” She nods and sticks her papers into her oversized bag before accepting his arm. She weaves it through his, feeling the tightness of his muscles. Despite the contact, he keeps a modest amount of space between them.

She wishes he wouldn’t. It’s been so long since she’s been around another person like this.

“Tell me about yourself, Miss Tyler.” She looks at him in surprise. All the other’s of his group had probably Googled her. Then again, he wouldn’t know how to do that.

That was refreshing. He didn’t know about the paparazzi that followed her in England or the scandalous stories they spun to make a few bucks.

“Wha do you want to know?” She doesn’t mind the idea of telling him things. He’s like her. He’s displaced.

“How old are you?”

She freezes for a moment before laughing. He looks at her before realizing that he’s committed some sort of social transgression.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, reddening a bit on the cheeks.

“No, no; ’s alright.” She laughs again, bumping her shoulder against his. “’m twenty-six.”

“I’m ninety-four,” he says matter-of-factly.

She laughs again. “I know.”

He looks down at her sadly, and she sobers. “Of course you do.” He shakes his head, and she feels bad. She doesn’t want him to know things about her, but she knew all about him from his file. That wasn’t fair.

“I won’t judge, you know.” She throws her empty coffee cup in a rubbish bin as they walk. She reaches over and touches his hand as she looks up at him. “’m not from here, either. ‘m not right.”

He shakes his head. “I think you’re right.” She looks away, closing her eyes tightly to keep the tears away. He pulls her into his arms and holds her tightly, his arms warm around her. She freezes, and he does too. “Sorry… I just know what it was like to need someone to hug you.” He pulls back suddenly. His face is somewhat stricken as he turns on his heel, walking away quickly.

She swallows and plops down on the bench nearby. Her hands cover her face as she takes in deep breaths.

That was the warmest she’d felt in a long time.


The fourth time she sees him, he’s sitting in a mostly empty diner, and all she can see is his back. It worries her that she knows him just from the rear of his head. She wants to go in, wants talk to him.

So she does. She sits on the stool next to his, grabs a menu and flips it open. He’s so caught up in his paper that he doesn’t notice it’s her until she speaks up to order.

He looks over at her, stilling. She wonders if he’s going to run again. He doesn’t, though. His fingers pick at his donut, and her food comes. They sit in silence for a while, him doing the crossword and her drinking her hot chocolate and eating her cake.

When she’s finished, she wipes her fingers on a napkin and reaches for his hand. It’s clutching a mug somewhat desperately, and she eases her palm over his knuckles, just resting it there.

He visibly deflates, his hand turning to slide his palm against hers.

“That hug… That was just what I needed.” He looks at her, startled. She smiles serenely. “I’d like to be able to do the same for you.” She swallows anxiously, her fingers twitching in his hand as she tries to pick at her nails – a nervous habit of hers. His fingers stay strong. “You ever need a hug, ’m here. I don’t have anyone, either.”

He clears his throat, meeting her eyes. They look sadder than usual. “I need one now.”

Her heart breaks a little bit for him and she stands, twirling his stool so he’s facing her. Her arms go around his shoulders, and his clutch desperately at her sweater. His face hides in her neck, and she can feel his shuddering breaths against her skin. She strokes his nape and back, humming to him silently, thankful that the only people around are the geriatric waitresses.

“Wha ‘appened?” she asks calmly.

He shakes his head, arms tightening around her convulsively. “I just don’t understand the world anymore.”

She nods. She understands him better than most.


The fifth time she sees him, they’re in Stark Tower again. Things are going to hell once more, and there’s a race of alien attacking that even she doesn’t know. She feels helpless; this is supposed to be her area of expertise.

The aliens make a connection, their huge, nasty faces showing up on the gigantic screens in the HQ room. Their language is harsh and grating, and Fury has her answer them in their native tongue. She feels a bit sick to even speak their language because what they’re demanding is so… God, it’s so disgusting.

They want babies. Like newborn babies that have just been born. They want them to drag them from their mother’s arms or they’ll destroy the entire planet.

And there’s nothing they can do, really.

The prototype shields that Tony has been working on are nowhere near enough to keep the entire earth safe. But the alternative is simply despicable.

Everyone is suiting up and getting prepared, and she feels even more ill. These people have become her friends, and they’re going off to their deaths.

“Tyler, you sure you know nothing about these guys?” Fury questions, pacing back and forth in front of the screen.

She shakes her head, steeling herself. Her voice breaks anyway. “No, sir. I’m sor- ‘m sorry.”

Fury nods. Tony walks by and squeezes her shoulder.

“Not your fault, Flower.” Everyone nods collectively, and she feels awful.

He’s there, already suited up, and he’s looking at her. Somehow he can tell what she’s feeling because he walks over and pulls her tight to him.

“It really isn’t your fault.” The way he says it almost has her believing it. She nods and clutches him.

And then everyone is ready to leave. She holds onto him tighter for a moment before moving onto her toes and kissing him.

“Be safe. Please.” He leans down and kisses her.

“For you, I will.” She squeezes his body gratefully before letting him go.

Watching him walk away is painful. Her only consolation is that if he comes back, he's coming back to her. 

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Never ever in a million years would I have thought this up. Great job. Sad that she has moved on from the Doctor... but Steve deserves her. :)

Awh, thank you. I think the two of them are good, selfless people. They would complement each other nicely.

I agree. I also like the thought of her in that universe. She could totally take on Fury and win. ;)

Oh, she definitely could. BadWolf!Rose would knock um all down. ;)

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