The burn lets me know I'm not frozen

"Cigarettes are food for Broken Souls "

Steve couldn't smoke before the super Soldier serum, he could hardly breath as it was since he had such bad asthma. Once he became Captain America he soon found out that he could not get addicted to smoking, his metabolism was too high and smoking simply didn't have that influence on him. He couldn't get that good feeling the fellas talked about, nor was he dependent on it. He would smoke with the Comandos sometimes because it was a good way to bond with his men. But besides that, he had no reason to smoke. It would just burn his lungs,

but even that feeling was gone just as quickly as the flame used to light the cigarette.

Now Steve finds himself out on an empty balcony at the newly renamed Avenger's Tower, with a cigarette in hand. Inside was yet another party, put on by the man of iron himself. Steve didn't mind that his teammates enjoyed festivities, that they liked having parties with friends and having a drink. But Steve often felt like an outsider. He didn't understand most of their references and conversational points, and it was exhausting to try and keep up with the conversation. People didn't seem to understand how much work it was for Steve to try so hard to fit in these days, and to still not even come close. It didn't upset him so to say, it just wore him out.

Not to mention the chills Steve seemed to experience. The battle of New York was about 3-4 months ago, so he really had not been out of the ice that long. Steve could still feel it, more than he would like to admit. He felt a freeze deep inside his bones, it wasn't something blankets and jackets could help, not for lack of trying. Steve often had a jacket on, hoping it would help a little. It never did, for it felt like the cold was deep into his bones and moving around in his DNA, somewhere he couldn't warm up.

So he smoked. Steve didn't smoke for the feeling you got from a cigarette, because Steve had never felt that in his life, he simply couldn't. He no longer lit the flame for camaraderie. Steve smoked because the burn in his lungs chased away the freeze in his bones, the ash on his shoes stained the ice that still seemed coat his body in a cold coffin, and the smoke that filled his nose reminded him that he was awake and that he could smell and that he could breath. The red glow from the burning cigarette was small, but it was still red, and it still fought the icy white that he was surrounded by for far too long.

Steve let the ash fall onto his nice shoes, instead of shaking it off to the side. Such a thing was far better than snow landing on your shoe, or ice covering you for a lifetime.

People always said that Hell Was hot, and that it burned your flesh and your sin away. Steve had always pictured hell as a place where you bled and sweat out all your transgressions for eternity, forced to feel the heat of hate and all that is bad.

But now Steve knew that wasn't true. Hell wasn't hot, it was ice cold. It freezes you in loneliness, it traps you and secludes you from all you know and loved. You are forced to feel your blood slow to a stop and turn hard inside your veins, your lungs stop mid breath and you can't move a muscle no matter how hard you try. Hell is cold, sharp, lonely and unforgiving. You freeze in time and the cold stops your ability to even scream for mercy. For if Hell was hot, at least you could scream. Where Steve went, you couldn't even cry. It beat you into submission until your brain went numb.

Maybe Steve had never been to the real Hell, but he sure hadn't been to heaven. In Steve's mind, he will never be able to picture Hell as fire and brimstone. He will forever see it as sharp ice, cold and unforgiving.

"Better not let the press find out you smoke. They will eat you alive for it."

Steve turned to see who had broke him away from his thoughts, and wasn't surprised to see the red headed assassin walking towards him. Natasha had on an elegant black dress for the formal party hosted in the Tower.

"I didn't know people hated smoking these days. The smell?" Steve said after breathing out another puff of smoke. Natasha came and stood upwind from him.

"The cancer." She answered simply.

Steve rose an eyebrow. "The what?" He asked. Since when did smoking cause cancer?

"Since your time, we have found out that little thing in your hand, can cause cancer in your lungs. If the press knew you smoked it would ruin your pure reputation, let alone all the children who would wanna follow after you." She explained, bringing him up to date with the new developments in the understanding of cigarettes.

"It doesn't have an affect on me, so I'm not too worried. I doubt the serum would let it kill me. " Steve decided, taking another long drag, feeling the deep burn of smoke in his lungs.

"We just won't mention it at press conferences" Natasha agreed.

"Wanna tell me why you are out here?"

Natasha's green eyes seemed to see right through him and into his soul.

Steve shrugged a little, looking down at the city lights of New was a nice summer evening, and that made it even more ridiculous that Steve felt cold.

"It was cold inside."

Natasha nodded. She guessed that he didn't mean the actual temperature inside the tower, but decided to just play along with it and not to hassle the poor man.

"Tony does keep the tower pretty cold."

Steve just nodded in agreement as his bones turned to ice. Maybe one day he would tell her and the team of the ever present ice in his soul. And maybe one day they could help him thaw. Maybe one day he would snub out the cigarette and never have to light one again. Maybe one day he wouldn't have to chase away the cold in his bones, for it would already be gone.

A/N

Thank you for reading! I'd love it if you left a review!

I hope you enjoyed this story, it's been a thought bouncing around inside my head for a while now, and I finally just wrote it down. :P