Steve rubbed his arms with a shiver as he stepped into the darkened kitchen. The cold from his dream clung to his consciousness like frost creeping on the edges of a window. No amount of breathing on the glass could keep the cold off and it didn't take long to for him to be driven from bed.
He flicked on a small light under the cupboards and reached for the coffee maker. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night. He wanted desperately to feel that hot liquid seep through his body.
Steve stood, hunched over the counter with his face in his hands and listened to the quiet drip and hiss of the coffee. He still felt so cold. There was no discernible chill in the room, but it was in him. Not even real. A memory:
A blast of ice. Light fading. Total Darkness. His fear frozen solid, every physical piece of him slowing to a standstill, his thoughts flickering out. Nothing. Then an overwhelming rebirth. Dropped into a bright, cold world, all his memories just a draft in an old, empty house.
Steve closed his eyes again, then straightened up as a yawn escaped him.
When the coffee finally finished he pulled a mug from the cupboard, an old Stark Industries one. Pouring the hot, dark liquid, he didn't bother to add anything to it.
One sip. It burned on the way down, but that didn't matter. The heat of it began to seep into his chest. The hot mug seared his finger tips, but he was desperate for that sensation, for any sensation. Anything was better than what his mind was still holding over him. Yes, it had just been a dream tonight, but not too long ago it had been real. Total numbness. Prolonged frozen sleep.
Steve shook off the thought. Sure it was over, but the profound aloneness, the perfect isolation, the cold, it still made him uneasy. As if the ice and snow and freezing, freezing water would suddenly rise up all around and engulf him again. It scared him. He could admit that to himself.
When the coffee was finally drained from his mug, Steve took a deep breath and sighed. He took a look around his kitchen. This wasn't the pleasant kind of solitude. He gazed out the window for a moment. The whole expanse of New York was laid out before him, twinkling and glowing in the night, but it was so far from where he was.
He was alone. Just as alone as he had been under surface of the sea. And still cold.
gah! now my heart hurts for Steve.
In trying to find a way to conclude this scene without leaving it pain for pain sake (because I'm not for that), I shared it with my best friend. She suggested that I continue it into a story of Steve coming out of his isolation. I love that plan, so that's my intention with this. Hopefully I'll be back soon with more!
Steve hurts my heart a lot.
Peace!