This documents the attempts Steve made at writing Loki a letter per his psychiatrist's instructions. That session is posted as the story Something Clicked.
LETTER #1:
Dear Loki,
Dear Loki? Really? Ugh.
LETTER #2:
Loki,
My psychiatrist wants me to write you a letter telling you everything I want to say to you. Trouble is, I have no idea what that is. Or maybe I do. I don't know. Shit. Why is this so hard?
LETTER #3
Loki,
You probably don't remember me. I mean, why would you? I'm nothing special. But you…You're a…I don't know what you are. Crap.
LETTER #4
Loki,
I am writing to you on the advice of my doctor. I just have to write this. I don't have to give it to you. Hell, he doesn't even have to read it. So why am I even trying? I could literally just write the alphabet out or write the words to Yankee Doodle Dandy, and he wouldn't know the difference.
'I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy. A Yankee Doodle do or die. A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam, born on the 4th of July.'
Huh. I was born on the 4th of July. Does this make me a Yankee Doodle Dandy? What is a Yankee Doodle Dandy?
LETTER #5
Loki,
Apparently I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy. I have no clue what that is. And I bet you couldn't give a rat's ass about it…or me.
LETTER #6
Loki,
Loki Loki Loki Loki Loki
Well that was pointless.
LETTER #7
Loki,
SHIT. FUCK. DAMN. SHIT. DAMN. DICK. FUCK. ASS. HOLE. CRAP. SHIT. ARGH!
LETTER #8
Loki,
I'm trying to understand. What the hell happened to you? Were you always that batshit crazy and I just didn't see it? That's probably not a good thing to say to you, huh.
LETTER #9
Loki,
I know you probably don't remember me. Why would you? We met at a bar in 1943. I thought you were a spy. You thought I was an artist. We went back to my place and kissed all night. You were gorgeous. You were patient. You were so different than the man I met later in Germany. Or maybe I just didn't want to see it. Maybe I was so infatuated with you that I didn't notice it.
I can still feel your lips on mine, they way your tongue tasted. What changed you? Why would you try to take over the world? Why didn't you come visit me again? Why can't I stop thinking about you?
Bucky would shake me by the lapels if he were still here. He'd tell me to stop it. He'd tell me what I felt was wrong. Is it wrong? It didn't feel wrong at the time.
I wish I had known you better. I wish we had had more time. I wish I knew where you were. I wish I had a ham sandwich. Why did I write that down? Shit. Now I'm going to have to start again. Shit.
LETTER #10
Loki,
I know you probably don't remember this, but we met back in 1943 in a bar. I thought you were a spy. You thought I was an artist. We spent the entire night kissing. I wanted to do more. I wanted to see you again. But you never came back. What the hell happened to you? I didn't recognize you in that helmet. Your eyes were different. Why didn't you come back to me? Guess I wasn't that special to you. Why would I be?
I could have loved you. I wanted to love you.
Sounding a bit needy there, Rogers. You sure you want to write that down?
LETTER #11
Loki,
I don't expect you to remember. In fact, I'd bet good money that you don't. We met a long time ago. Though to be honest it doesn't feel like that long to me. Some days, though, some days it feels like a lifetime ago.
You were sitting alone at a table in 1943. My friends and I asked if we could join you. We must have bored you, because you ended up going to sit at the bar. I sat next to you, bought you a beer, showed you a picture of the woman I thought I loved.
After some flirting and making sure you weren't a spy, you came back with me to my quarters. We kissed all night. I had never experienced anything like it. It was…amazing. Then you fell asleep on my bed. I drew you, your flawless features and beautiful neck. I wanted to see you again. I looked for you in every town I went to.
You told me your name was Loki Thatcher, and you asked me for my favorite Loki story. Now I know why.
Did you really meet William Shakespeare?
Thor told me what you are. I don't understand. So you were adopted. Okay. Fine. That doesn't make you any less. It doesn't change that night or how you made me feel.
He also told me what happened, how you lied to him, what you were trying to do when he made it back to Asgard, how you let go and fell from the Bifrost. It's hard for me to reconcile that with the man I spent the night kissing. I know what it's like to feel jealous, to want what someone else has. But suicide? That's what it was, right? You let go of your staff, falling into the universe. I've been low before but never that low, not even after the ice, not even after I realized who you were.
If you had stayed, if I had made you stay, could I have saved you? That's the thought that keeps me up at night.
And when I do sleep, I dream of you. I dream of your lips, your hands, your eyes. The eyes you had then, not the ones you had when you took the Tesseract. They were different. It's one of the reasons I didn't recognize you right away.
That damn Tesseract ruined my life. And then it brought you back to me. And I don't know if I should be grateful or angry. I'm thinking angry considering I didn't recognize you until it was too late.
I wish I could have saved you. I wish I could save you now. But you're so far away. I can't reach you. But let's be honest. I could never reach you.
I want to understand. I want to know what changed you since that night. I never will though will I. Another one of life's mysteries.
All I wanted was to stop bullies. Now I find the biggest bully of them all was the one man I cared for. But that wasn't you then. You weren't a bully then. But what do I know? Maybe you were. Maybe I'm just another victim, someone you look back at and laugh. Not sure which would be worse – you remembering me as a fool or you not remembering me at all.
I try not to think about that. I try not to think about you. I'm failing miserably. So I work and I train and I study the time I missed and I brush up on tactics and combat techniques. And on my down time I catch up on baseball, reading the stats, learning the players. And it works. It works until I'm lying in bed, and all I can think about is you.
And I don't know if it's because you're the only thing connecting me to my own time or if I'm just feeling guilty or if we really had a connection.
Maybe writing this down will help. Maybe putting it on paper will get it out of my head.
I cared for you, Loki. I want you to know that. You're important to me. You gave me one of the best nights of my life. I realize it was probably nothing to you. And that's okay. I just want you to know it was important to me, that you made a difference. You made me feel special. I just wish I could do the same for you.
I really did care for you, Loki. I wish it had been enough.
Sincerely,
Captain Steve Rogers