He stepped out of the limousine onto the sidewalk outside of the Stork Club. Nobody else was there. Then the door opened and Peggy stood in front of him. The gas-lights gleamed on her brown hair and she smiled, for once not wearing the strict demeanor she had so carefully kept on her face in the army.
He took a step forward. "Peggy."
Her expression changed, she took a step back. "I don't know who you are."
"Peggy, it's me, Steve."
"I really do not know who you are."
"Peggy…" She turned to run.
"Peggy! Peggy!" He ran after her, into the club. Faces stared at him from every side, blaming him for not saving the right people, for letting his friends die without him, forget him.
"Peggy! Peggy!" He was crying now, the tears streaming down his cheeks, past his chin to land on his best suit. Someone stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
"Sir," the man said, "Sir, you really must wake up now."
He woke up sweating, breathing hard, the blue and white blankets Tony had thought would be so perfect for the room of Captain America tangled around him.
"Sir," Jarvis' voice pervaded his consciousness. "Sir, are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine, Jarvis. Thank you for asking." He tried to sound cold, letting Jarvis know the conversation was over, but his voice trembled more than anyone's voice ever should after a nightmare.
"Sir, it is best for your mental health that you talk to someone about…"
"I'm fine, Jarvis!" He got up and walked into his private bathroom where he ran the water for a hot bath. He could never stand a shower after the heavy rains he had experienced in the war. He leaned back into the water, trying not to think.
In the morning he would get up a little late and Tony would tease him when he came back from his morning run for not being the early bird he usually was, and Bruce would look at him and hand him a bagel and later Bruce would ask him if everything was okay, and he would answer that yes, it was.