Prompt: lovebecomeshim said: Would you ever consider writing a fic about Steve's apparent depression going under the team's radar? I just feel like it's extremely understated, almost ignored, in canon
A/N: Thanks for being my first prompt! This is my first steve fic, so here goes nothing. This prompt came from tumblr, my account is CaptainHallow
There's something beautiful about the sacrifice of always putting others first. To be selfless is to be a hero, and a hero is something Steve always wanted to be. Then again, he was always quite selfless, but there comes a point to which, when you are literally selfless, there is none of you left.
To be selfless is to throw away your own wants and desires, but in the wreckage, you also throw away the things that you need, the things that make you you.
It is debated whether or not Captain America can exist without a war. It's a highly contested argument, but Steve didn't care. All he wanted to know was whether Steven Rogers could survive without a war.
He was so selfless that the only self there was was the man who saves others from war. Was that him or the Captain?
He didn't feel like the Captain. Sure, he did all those things and he is Captain America, but deep down Steve wondered if maybe he's a fake. Those muscles aren't his, the shield isn't his. This time isn't his. Even this New York isn't his.
Being a man out of place with no self is no way to live.
Most nights he wakes up in a sweat. He flings himself awake because the nightmares behind his eyelids are worse than the dark of his room. He hates the dark. It reminds him of a time where he felt helpless.
He has a lamp on his bedside table which stays on most nights. Natasha noticed it one time and wouldn't let him live down the fact that Captain America sleeps with a nightlight. He laughed along with the team but they never notice that he ends his laugh so soon. They never notice his face fall when he looks away.
He wonders if maybe he has PTSD. He opened his laptop one night and struggled with the internet browser for a good 5 minutes before finally opening a site with the symptoms.
Nightmares? Yeah. But was that from PTSD or just being a solider?
Flashbacks? He wishes he wouldn't see Bucky falling again and again. He wishes his body didn't shake as he relived crashing into the ice daily.
Depression and Anxiety? He doesn't know. He's sad, but, is it clinical? Who wouldn't be sad if everyone they knew and loved was dead and was stuck serving a government he no longer knows or understands. He feels anxious. But who doesn't? It's normal to sweat and shake and vomit when you're nervous and afraid, right?
Withdrawal? Who would he withdraw from? They're all gone. The team? He supposes that is true. I mean, here he was on the internet at 7 pm while the team was out in the living area together. He can't remember the last time he had a conversation longer than 10 minutes with any one of them.
He slams his laptop shut, vaguely aware of the cracking noise from the screen. He turns the lights off to sleep but he doesn't feel tired. He feels anything but tired. How can you feel so much and nothing at all?
He grabs his lamp and hurls it at the wall. He feels weak. He is the strongest man yet he is so weak.
The crash of the breaking lamp is excruciating loud in his silent room, but the others downstair will not hear it.
They never notice. They never notice the "Nah, I'm tired" or the "i'll sit this one out"s.
For a while he hated them for it. He hated them for not knowing that he needed them, that he was hurting. But then again, if they had tried to reach out to them he would have denied them. He can't blame them. He could only blame himself. Someone who isn't even whole anymore.
America glorifies him for being selfless and noble. Little do they know he is neither of those things. He is no one.