A/N I have decided to write a story on the wonder the is the Avengers. This is my first time writing an Avengers fic so please don't be too harsh. Cheers, and happy reading!
Oh, and this is dedicated to greekfreek101 who is super awesome and after you read this you should go and check out her profile.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers or anything to do with the MARVEL Universe.
Steve doesn't sleep at night.
Simple.
Sure, every once in a while, he'll take a few too many hits to the head and probably pass out, but that's different.
When he's unconscious, he can't feel. Or smell. Or see. It's all just... black. A swirling mass of dark nothingness, whispering deep, dark, long forgotten secrets in his ears. And it's really not all that bad.
Except for the cold.
The wind whistles through the vortex, humming soft, low tunes of lullabies from magical, distant lands. The wind is frigid and unforgiving, and goosebumps rise on his arms. He shivers. He's cold.
Steve hates being cold.
But when he sleeps, he sees Bucky. And Peggy. The Howling Commandoes. His mother. They smile their wonderful, not dead smiles and reach out to him. He tries to do the same, soaking up every single not-dead-alive detail he can of their very presence.
But he never gets too far.
These people aren't his friends and family. They're different. They're cruel. Playing games with him. Horrible, terrible, excruciating games with him. They dance just beyond his reach, laughing all the while. Wicked, twisted laughs that aren't theirs. At least he hopes they aren't theirs. He'll try again, but their quick, swift, and agile.
They slip from his grasp once more.
Now Steve's frustrated, but when he makes another attempt, it all changes.
It's raining. The world is on fire and it's raining bombs. He truly is going to burn in hell. But he's still running.
Bucky.
The first coherent thought he has. His best friend is running alongside him, shouting at him to run faster, eyes wide with fear all the while.
Then their on a train and Bucky's falling and he's reaching out, stretching out his arm as far as it will go. Almost got him. But then Steve lets his best friend slip from his grasp. Again. Bucky's screaming, eyes wide with terror and his arms are flailing. Steve's screaming too. Reaching farther. Almost there...
Not.
Then everything disappears and Bucky's dead again and Steve's crying. Steve only cries in his dreams because if he was allowed to cry, the tears threatening to fall would never stop. He wails and shouts in agony. He could've reached farther, he'd almost had him. Bucky had been right in front of him, and he'd died. Just like everyone else.
Thing start to appear and he's looking into the wonderful, vibrant, not dead, and perfectly alive eyes of Peggy Carter. She's trying to teach him to dance even though he keeps stepping on her toes. He's trying not to, but she's just so beautiful, and so not dead. Peggy's wearing her red dress that made her look like a goddess, and he can't take his eyes off of her. Peggy always looked like a goddess.
One second she's there and breathing and not dead, the next everything disappears and she's lying on the floor and Steve's hoping she's not dead. Her chest isn't moving though.
The world stops and Steve's legs give away from under him. He finds himself staring into the beautiful, captivating, lifeless eyes of Peggy Carter. He lets out a choked sob and lets the tears flow freely as he painstakingly shuts her eyes for the last time, breathing in her Christmas-like scent. She still looks like a goddess. Even when she's dead.
She was dead and it was all his fault.
She was dead and it was all his fault.
Peggy was dead. And it was all Steve's fault.
Just like Bucky.
Peggy, Bucky.
Bucky, Peggy.
He's running again and bombs pour out of the sky like never ending raindrops of doom, killing everyone in his path. A flash of a limb there, a pair of terrified eyes here. Men are running with him and he's shouting orders but a bomb drops and they're all dead.
R.I.P Howling Commandoes.
More dead faces. The list was never ending
Steve's lying down, his head in a woman's lap. Sarah Rogers. She smiles down at him and her lip keep forming soundless words that he would have given anything to hear. Fingers run through his hair and he sigh in contentment, ready to fall asleep.
The sound of glass breaking echoes throughout the room.
A quick bang and something wet drips onto his face. Blood.
A bullet in his mother's head. And she's dead.
Dead. Death was so very permanent and he wants to cry, he really does but there are just no tears left. None at all. But she's still dead. Gone. Shattered. Never ever coming back. His mother is dead and he can't even mourn for her. He's pathetic. He really, truly is. There's no one left. Not a single living soul left.
Mom.
Peggy.
The Howling Commandoes.
Bucky.
Gone. Dead. Gone. Dead. Never ever coming back.
So is Steve Rogers. He was left behind in the 1940's. He never came out of the ice. Captain America did, but Steve Rogers didn't.
That's all he was to the world. Captain America.
It was always 'Captain this' or 'Captain that' and Steve hated it so much it hurt.
Sometimes he wonders what would happen if he died.
America might be devastated, but they would get over it within a few days. The Avengers would be fine. Clint could go back to doing missions on his own without a star-spangled dead weight to lug around. Natasha didn't need anybody, with the exception of Clint. Thor might be sad, but he was a 'mighty warrior of Asgard', and he would be fine. Tony was Tony. Tony was not Howard. Steve didn't know what to think of that. Bruce would be better off without him pestering him with questions like how to work the microwave.
The Avengers could be the Avengers without him. The world didn't need him. He could go and die and apologize to Peggy for missing their date. Laugh with Bucky. See the Howling Commandoes. Hug his mother and never let go.
He could be Steve Rogers again.
When the first hints of dawn peered from behind the New York City skyline, he stares into space for a few moments, then gets out of bed after staring into the same place all night. Never falling asleep. Never intending to.
Walking into the oversized kitchen of Stark Towers, he starts up the coffee maker. Sitting down wearily, he watches it. And he waits. Watching, waiting. Waiting, watching. Steve seems to be doing a lot of that lately.
The others gradually drift into the kitchen, teasing each other good-naturedly and laughing all the while. Steve lets out a small smile and then slip right back to making coffee. Steve likes coffee. They had coffee back in the 1940's.
The day goes by, and the others do what they have to do. Steve trains. Tony goes to work in his lab. Steve trains. Bruce goes to his own lab. Steve trains. Thor goes on a date with Jane. Steve trains. Clint and Natasha go report for SHIELD duties. Steve trains.
Most days go like this.
Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes into hours. The clock keeps ticking until somehow everyone ends up in the kitchen again, looking for something to eat. This was rare, because no one really saw much of each other these days. Clint orders pizza. Tony suggests a James Bond movie marathon and everyone wholeheartedly agrees. Steve make up an excuse about having to be somewhere else, but the others won't take no for an answer.
Thor practically drags him into the living room, and they all sit down with plates stacked high with slices of pizza. Steve awkwardly lowers himself on the floor, back against the couch and the movie marathon begins.
Film after film, they watch, laughing and shouting at the T.V screen. As the night progresses, Thor begins to drift off, snoring loudly, head against Steve's shoulder and he doesn't have the heart to push it away. Clint soon follows, head in Natasha's lap. The Black Widow herself in out of it just minutes after. Bruce and Tony follow close behind, and soon everyone's fast asleep around him and Steve hasn't felt this good since the serum.
So Steve decides to do the only thing he can do.
He sleeps.
Voila! My first Avengers story has come to a close. Sorry about any run on sentences, but I wanted to show how conflicted our darling Steve felt. Any other grammar mistakes I've made, please feel free to point them out to me. I wrote this all in one day and I've lost all feeling in my wrists. I might not be typing for awhile. Like it? Don't like it? Tell me in a review, which I love very very much. Writing this was hard considering I am from Britain and this is about as American as you can get. I moved here to the States a few months ago and have settled in nicely. Except for my mum dying. But I'm getting off topic here. You want my life story, my profile is there for you to read.
Also, for anyone who was kind enough to read my author's note, thank you. But please, review! I take the time to personally thank every review for this story through PM's. I read the traffic stats of this story, and I had over 180 views and this story has only been out for, like, two days so far. This makes me happy, but I really want to know why you liked or disliked my story. Why you even bothered to check it out. I only have two reviews so far, so thanks to those of you who reviewed! Now, the review button's right down there... so hike up your skirts and press it!
-Dancing With The Clouds