Steve thought he knew the meaning of fear.
(it was blood and death and bombs exploding in the distance and the ground shaking beneath his feet and Bucky falling falling falling and then he is falling too, down down into the ice-)
When he was younger it meant something different. It's almost funny in a way; back then, when he was small and weak and sickly, fear had never been something that really intimidated him. He felt it, sure, when he was cornered in another ally by guys so much bigger than him, or when Bucky set him up with some pretty girl and all he could do was stumble over his words (if they even spoke to him, that is), or when he applied for the army again and again, just waiting for them to catch him out.
And yeah, those fears were pretty tame in comparison to, well, everything he'd faced since joining the army. But he was a normal guy back then, with normal hopes and dreams, and normal fears too. What a lot of people seem to forget is that it was back then, when he was weak an helpless, that he dove on top of a grenade. He knew that it would kill him, that it would be painful if he lived long enough to feel it, but he overcame those fears faster than the other guys (the soldiers, the guys twice his size and three times his weight, the ones who were stronger and faster and better-) ran for cover.
Being brave had nothing to do with how strong you were. It was far easier, after all, to be fearless with a gun in your hand.
Or in his case, a serum. Bit more drastic than any gun, and it had so far proven a lot more effective. Everything that happened during the war – the rescues, his so-called heroics, that final mission – could he really be called fearless with such an advantage on his side? Not that any of it was easy – he wouldn't disgrace the lives lost by saying that – but could he have done any of that without the serum? (everything special about you comes out of a bottle)
No. He almost laughed at the mental image of himself, the scrawny pre-serum Steve trying to do any of that. The amusement was quickly drained from him though. Erskine had chosen him, had seen something in him, had decided to give him a chance when no one else would. But what if he'd chosen wrong? There had to be guys who were better than him, who were special. Someone who'd bee training for years, maybe, or some genius (he'd been meeting so many of them, after all) who could use the effects of the serum so much better than he could.
He shook his head with an aggravated sigh. There was no use in thinking about stuff like that, it was all in the past-
Steve flinched at the turn his thoughts took. It's all in the past, just like I should be.
When he'd woke up...at first, it had seemed like some sort of miracle. He was alive! Alive, when he was so certain he was going to die (so afraid to die). Instantly his thoughts had turned to Peggy, and a grin almost crossed his face.
And then he realised everything was wrongwrongwrong.
Frozen in ice for seventy years. He couldn't believe them, hadn't wanted to believe them. Because that would mean everything he knew (and loved) was gone.
Seventy years, and it felt like just weeks ago.
He was in New York, but it wasn't the one he knew. Culture, language, science; he was an outcast from it all. He didn't get any of the references people made, couldn't connect with anyone (the battlefield didn't count, because then it didn't matter when it was, all that mattered was keeping his team safe and defeating the enemy. During those times he was Captain America, a hero and leader of the Avengers, not Steve Rogers, ordinary guy from the 40s). It was strange and alien, a distorted reflection of the world he knew, and he could barely keep from screaming. Sometimes (most of the time) he wished they had just left him there in the ice, wished the serum wasn't so effective, wished he could ignore his morals and just end it-
Man out of time. Ironic, that it was an enemy who summed up his situation the best. He felt like a fixed point in time, and the rest of the world had moved on without him. He was stuck the way he was, a man (barely) from another century, plucked neatly from his own world and into the chaotic mess of this one. He tried to adapt, but it was so different he may as well have moved to another planet. And yet, it was similar enough that he only felt more out of place, like a stranger in a crowd of people who all knew each other.
This was real fear. To lose everything you had, everything you were. And of course nobody understood; how could he expect them to? Thor still had Asgard, a family and a home to return to, a people to return to. All the people Steve knew were dead. He'd checked, just in case, and he'd missed Peggy's death by six years. (A small, terrible part of him was relieved)
He thought he'd get used to it. Maybe he would, eventually, but for now all he had was his memories of a long-distant past which felt like barely a month ago, memories of war and fighting and ghosts. He could see them in his eyes. The faces of the dead (because who had he knows who now wasn't dead?) haunted him, drew dark shadows beneath his eyes and woke him in the night with barely contained screams.
Fear of the unknown. Well, Steve felt like he didn't know anything, so what did that say about his fears?
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Yeah, not too cheerful, I know. Well, I hope you enjoyed(?) reading anyway, please leave a review! They really do encourage me to write more, and any prompts are welcome. I'll probably do more one-shots focussing on other characters, we'll see :)