Steve was tired. Standing in his personal gym, his shoulders slouched, head hanging and his eyes shadowed with dark circles, he looked it. He was supposed to be training, keeping his super-muscles toned and fit, but he just couldn't muster the energy.
He hadn't been sleeping well as of late. Actually, ever since he was found as a human popsicle in the Arctic, he'd been having trouble getting some proper shut-eye. Probably because he was afraid to sleep for too long. Every minute he spent unconscious took him another minute further away from Peggy.
Peggy. He sighed. He thought about her in his every waking minute, and she came to him in his dreams every night. But no matter how much he missed her, there was nothing he could do about it. No way to go back.
He'd sifted through some public records, searching for word of the girl he'd only just gotten to know yet still loved, and had come up with a death certificate. She had passed on a mere three years before he'd been brought back to life. Three years. His heart ached at the tragic timing. They never got to have their first dance.
Steve grudgingly forced his feet into an offensive stance before his extra-strength punching bag, and gave a few warm-up swings.
Director Nick Fury of SHIELD had been in contact with Steve a few times, to discuss this Avengers Initiative thing. Steve didn't really understand what it was about, but from what he got out of their conversations, apparently the world was looking for a hero. Yeah, he'd heard that one before.
He squared his shoulders and punched five times in quick succession, pretending the bag was a fierce opponent. Getting into a rhythm, he swung and ducked, give and take, give and take.
It was strange, thinking of himself as a hero.
Shoot, I'm just a kid from Brooklyn, he thought. Nothing to make a big fuss over.
But he knew that technically, he was something to make a fuss over. A man, frozen for 70 years, comes back to life, no physical signs of damage or aging whatsoever. He was a medical miracle. Or more accurately, a scientific breakthrough. A triumph of a government experiment.
Steve gave his punching bag another quick jab, then threw his boxing gloves on the floor and let himself collapse on the mat. He rolled flat onto his back and lay there, exhaling heavily.
He thought for a minute on the miracle that was himself. He was alive. After spending decades in a giant ice cube, he was alive.
70 years. Holy icebergs. That's one heck of a beauty sleep. He pondered on that for a while, letting his mind wander freely.
He reached into his pocket, a product of habit, and pulled out a delicate pocket watch. Inside was a picture of a young woman in a military uniform. She was beautiful, soft, with a kind face, although it had an air of strength and determination behind it. Dark set curls framed her face and highlighted a set of lush eyelashes. He stared into her once-warm eyes, deadened by the aged photo, and sighed to himself. He closed his eyes.
70 years.
Well, Dr. Erskine's experiments definitely worked, didn't they? At least I was something of a success. His research wasn't for nothing. He thought back to the day of his transformation, the day he went from being a kid to a soldier. The memory was bittersweet, for though he had gained much from the experiment, he had lost so much more. He had lost the Doctor, the first person to give him a chance; his best friend, Bucky; and then Peggy, the one person who had believed in him. And that was almost too much for him to handle.
He slid the watch back into his pocket, then sat up again and grabbed his gloves from beside him. With a grunt, he dragged himself off the mat and returned to making mulch out of his punching bag, letting all thoughts of another time slowly slip away.