He barely stopped himself from screaming, biting into his bottom lip until the hot, coppery blood slid into his mouth and slithered down his throat. The taste made him shutter as his stomach rebelled against it, but at least it distracted him from the pain. It feels as if the entire world was pressing against his body. Punishing him for his many mistakes with its unyielding force. It was nearly unbearable.

He tried to take a running inventory of his injuries. It was far easier than he liked to detach himself from the situation and calmly take everything in. From the blast itself, he could feel shrapnel buried deep in his stomach. The sharp edges of the metal cut into his abdomen, sticky blood flowed steadily from the open wound. He tried to move his arms to staunch the blood flow, but neither responded. Both were trapped under the weight of the rock that had collapsed on top of him when the bomb went off. He was pretty sure that both were broken -so they would have been useless anyways- but he couldn't see them. So it was impossible to tell.

That was when he realized he couldn't see anything. His eyes were open but he saw nothing. Total and complete darkness surrounded him.

It's terrifying to realize that he couldn't see. He was an artist, colors, light and shadows drove him. He couldn't see any of those. He couldn't see anything. Just darkness. It was almost a tangible thing, thick and heavy all around him.

Then he noticed the silence. He never knew how oppressive it could be in a place like this. Even his own breath seemed muted, barely even registering to his sensitive ears. He used his exceptional hearing, searching out even the faintest noise but nothing. Absolutely nothing. Steve never thought he'd miss Tony ramblings but suddenly he craved the sound of Tony's bitter taunts. It would be something.

He wondered how long he could take this, being surrounded by this complete absence of sight and sound. The only thing keeping him company were his own injuries and the cold that slowly spread throughout his body as the blood leaked out his various injuries.

How he hated the cold.

After a while, he couldn't tell how long, but it seemed like an eternity, his eyes began to grow heavy. His lids fluttering as he tried to resist sleeps weighted arms. Even he couldn't fight her siren call for long, and soon his eyes sealed shut and he was surrounded by darkness not unlike the one he'd seen when his eyes opened.

For a while it was just emptiness accompanying him as he slept, but he knew it wouldn't last long. They always came for him. The nightmares, the shades that followed him relentlessly, hounding every waking moment but always waiting to deliver the killing blow until sleep claimed him and he could no longer escape them.

"Cap, what are you doing?" His eyes shot up to meet Tony's confused face. He was wearing the iron man suit, and boy had it been through the ringer. It appeared he'd lost his face plate somewhere along the way.

"Cap, you with us?" Steve nodded, unable to open his mouth to form the simple reply.

"Good, we were worried they'd gotten you with that last hit. Fucking aliens, makes you wish you could go back to the simple days, doesn't it?"

Steve didn't reply, but he wanted to ask Tony "What simple days?" He'd take this over the war any day but he kept his mouth shut.

"Come on, we've got citizens to save, unless you aren't up for it old man?" Steve wanted to laugh but he couldn't force the sound from his throat. He tried again to ask Tony something, anything, but he couldn't get his body to comply.

Tony didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. Steve let himself be pulled up, they didn't have time for this, or at least so Tony said. Apparently when the world was in peril everything else could wait. Something Steve understood well enough. He'd told himself to wait to tell Bucky how he felt, to wait until the war was over and the world was safe. He waited on a lot of things.

Before he knew it Tony was dropping him off in the middle of the chaos he assumed was New York, but he couldn't tell with all the debris and the Chitari swarming every inch of available ground. As Tony started to zoom back into the sky he realized he didn't have his shield with him, and the Chitari near him were approaching, their strange weapons aimed directly at him.

Tony seemed to realize it at the exact moment he did, and raised his hands to blast the Chitari away from him until he could find a suitable replacement for his shield. Steve glanced up, and saw a pair of Chitari zooming towards Tony on their odd hovercraft vehicles.

"Tony watch out!" he screamed, holding his hands out as if he could stop the blows from coming. Horror welled up inside of him, Tony's face was melting away and Howards was growing in his place. His confused and terrified eyes meeting Steve's right as the Chitari fired a shot straight through his abdomen.

Howard's arms shot out but he couldn't work the suit, not like Tony, and he started to fall. Steve ran, barely catching him before he hit the ground. HE didn't understand how this had happened. Howard wasn't supposed to be here. He was dead.

"Steve…" Howard's voice rasped, the light fading from his eyes.

"Howard no, no you can't die like this, I just got you back," he whispered, desperation leaking into his voice as he pressed his hands against the gaping hole in his abdomen, trying to stop the blood gushing out. But it was like trying to stop a river with a pebble.

He felt Howard go limp in his arms, the Iron Man suit looked wrong on him, swallowing every ounce of Howards charm in its cold metal depths.

Where had Tony gone? He looked up, searching for the others, with his enhanced vision he should be able to see them. Where were they?

Then he spotted a flash of crimson about 600 yards in front of him, Natasha he assumed, and she was surrounded. He didn't have time to stay here with Howard, his team needed him, and just like in the war they had to leave the bodies where they fell. There wasn't time for funerals.

He put Howard down gently, before he stood, sealing away his emotions and racing towards Natasha. As he got closer he could make her out clearly among the Chitari warriors, and he saw that Clint was at her side. Both of them were fighting with everything they had. He didn't take the time to question why Clint was on the ground when he should be up on a roof somewhere taking out the enemy from above.

In battle things happened, and all he could do was react. "Natasha, Clint," He screamed, punching and kicking with all his might trying to clear a path to them. Up close he could see the blood pouring down the side of her face, and cuts lining both of their faces.

God, how he wished he hadn't called their names. They both turned simultaneously, eyes wide as they took him in and then just like Tony their faces began to disappear. To change. Natasha's crimson red hair slowly faded into a deep chestnut brown and her eyes changed from forest green to deep amber. Red lips curling up in a smile as Peggy gazed at him.

Clint's transformation was much quicker, his face literally there one second and gone the next, almost like Schmitt's when he pulled off his skin to reveal the red skull hidden beneath. And between one blink and the next he was replaced by Steve's only true friend, Bucky.

He could barely fight back his glee, despite his new friend's disappearance he could only see two of the people he longed for most in his heart. Of course, he should have known it wouldn't last. He'd distracted them, and they both dropped their guard, unable to keep the grins off their faces as their mouths opened, his name falling from their lips.

The sound never escaped though, and Steve watched in horror as one of the Chitari warriors grasped Peggy by the hair, pulling her head back to reveal her long, elegant throat. She didn't even have the time to panic before a blade slid across her throat. Trails of red followed its quick journey across her creamy white skin.

Bucky's death came just as quick. One second he was opening his mouth and the next his lips were forming a wide 'O' as a blade emerged from the center of his chest. Not unlike Phil Coulson.

Steve fought with renewed vigor, but the crowd between them only grew thicker. He watched their bodies fall to the ground and somehow he was able to hear the sickening plop when they collided with concrete.

He felt something break deep within him; all he wanted to do was see them again. Why was that so wrong? Why?

He was surrounded, blows raining down from every side, and he was being beaten down. He blinked and the ground was there, catching him. He turned his head and he was met with the blank stares of Peggy and Bucky, and Howard. How had he gotten there?

Their voices filled his ears, even as he drew his hands over his ears to drown them out.

"Why didn't you save us Steve?" they asked, their empty stares mocking him. It was like watching a puppet show, as they rose, limbs jerking as they crawled towards him. The Chitari had vanished, but he didn't give it much thought.

"How could you abandon us? We needed you, aren't we your friends?" They're voices sounded wrong, sick and twisted lifeless versions of the voices he used to know.

"I'm so sorry, I tried, I tried," he choked out, tears streaming down his face even as he tried and failed to get up.

They drew closer, until the blood leaking from their wounds was dripping onto his face. They towered over him, their faces far too large, taking up all the space around him. They were leaning down, their faces seemingly meshing together, "Steve, why didn't you save us? Why did you replace us with those people?" They spat out the words as if they were poison in their mouths.

"I didn't replace you, I didn't." He swore, he tried to close his eyes, to block out their faces but he found that he couldn't.

"Didn't you though?" they screeched, their faces suddenly alight with anger. It was terrifying. "You made them all up, didn't you? Tired of dreaming of us in the ice, Steve, was that it? We weren't good enough for you anymore?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Please, just leave me alone, please!" God, this couldn't be real, it couldn't be.

"So Tony, my son," Howard's voice was bitter as he spat out the word, "wasn't a replacement for me? Pathetic attempt if you ask me."

"Tony isn't pathetic," the words left his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Are you defending him?" He sounded incredulous, "That pretender? Don't forget it was you who selfishly abandoned us, you could have found another way, but you had to be a hero, didn't you? Did you even think about what was going to happen to us when you did it? Guilt doesn't give you an excuse."

"He's real, Tony and the other's they're real!" Steve didn't understand why this was happening. He wasn't trying to replace them, they weren't replaceable. Why didn't they understand that?

"So, Natasha isn't just the newest model? A strong, independent woman, capable of holding her own in a world dominated by men, sounds familiar doesn't it?" Peggy's voice sent shivers up his spine, and every time she spoke the gash in her throat opened wider, more blood leaking out.

"It was just a coincidence, there are woman like that everywhere now, I swear." Steve tried to reason, but Peggy didn't seem to understand.

"Oh, so I'm just a dime a dozen then, is that what you're saying? Guess you really didn't need much time to find a dance partner." She paused, a delicate fingers coming up to tap her chin, "Wasn't I enough Steve? Hm, why did you need some pretty red-head substitution? IT'S your fault you lost us. You chose to take a nose dive into the ice and it's time to realize that you deserve to be here."

"I know, I know I deserve to be back there but I'm not, I'm not! I'm back in the world again and I'm just trying to make-up for all the mistakes I made" Steve tried not to let doubt enter his mind; his rational mind knew that he wasn't in the ice anymore but it didn't matter. Not anymore.

"Is that what you tell yourself, Steve? When you think about me? Thanks to you I was left to die in ice, because you couldn't save me." Bucky's voice was like a stab straight through his heart.

"Bucky, I'm sorry, I tried, I tried to save you but you fell-"

"I didn't fall, you let me fall, there's a difference Steve, and Clint isn't going to change that. Funny, how you manage to find another handsome, cocky sniper to fit the bill so soon after you 'woke-up', isn't it?"

Steve opened his mouth to reply but they moved faster than he thought possible. Hands were tearing at his body, vengeful eyes never leaving his even as they tore at his flesh, breaking his bone with pale fingers. They're bodies started to decompose, maggots replacing eyes and teeth blackening as cracked lips pulled away to reveal them.

"Why didn't you save us? Why weren't we enough? We thought you cared…" Over and over their words rang in his head, until he could hear nothing else, feel nothing else. Even the pain they inflicted was nothing compared to the painful stab of their words.

Steve choked, opening his eyes, despite the lack of light, he felt stone cold relief. It had all been a dream, a hallucination brought on by his pain ridden imagination. But it had felt so real. They had seemed so real. So very, very real.

He could feel the ash settling in his throat, he understood why he'd been choking. It must be dust from the explosion but it tasted just like ash. He felt sweat gathering on his upper lip, the ash, there was always ash after a battle. Falling from the sky like gray snow, covering bodies, invading trenches and corrupting the pure white blanketing the untouched ground.

He was shaking, or maybe there had been another explosion. He couldn't see anything but suddenly he could see and feel everything.

The bombs, the shake of the earth as each one made impact, throwing up dirty, dust and ash. Always ash. The eyes of shell shocked soldiers staring up at him, unseeing, heavy with the weight of war. Tony had told him they called it PTSD now-a-days. Steve didn't like that. Sounded too clinical, like some man sitting in an office came up with. While the boys and girls out on the front line suffered.

That was what bothered him about this world he'd woken up in; it was so cold and clinical. As if everything and everyone could be classified and placed in a neat little box. He hated it.

Private First Class Dansfield, or as Steve and the commandoes called him, Johnny boy. He'd been young. Young even by their standards, at fifteen, but back then a lotta boys lied about their age to fight. They were all chasing the glory and spoils of war. Most of 'em found out real quick that there was no glory to be found in this particular hell. Just bullets and blood. The kind of blood you couldn't wash away. The kind that slowly coated every inch of you until you looked at yourself and all you saw was red.

Johnny boy had the brightest green eyes, almost greener than him. Steve would never forget the night after his first battle with them. The way all the light in those eyes faded, and vanished. Replaced with that same unseeing, blank look Steve had seen time and time again. He'd begun to hate that look. Hate how it was him leading these kids into battle. He felt responsible each time he saw eyes like those, and they haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them, watching him as the bombs went off in the background and the screams of dying soldiers sprang up all around him.

But Johnny boy, his eyes, his eyes haunted him even in his waking hours, because Steve had failed to stop him. Failed to save him really. What good was Captain America, when he couldn't even save his own boys?

It was cold, so very cold in the woods. His spangled outfit wasn't much protection against the European winters. Even his custom boots barely kept the cold out, and he'd traded them a long time ago. He didn't understand how the government could let them out here with barely enough clothes to keep em warm in a New York autumn, let alone this kind of weather.

He turned to Bucky, "I'm not picking up anything, you sure this is where they said the base was?" At first it had been easy, tracking down the Hydra bases on the map he saw, but they'd torn through those quick enough and more just kept popping up. Sometimes they got good leads but sometimes, just like now, they got nothing.

Bucky's reply was drowned out by the first bomb. It impacted to the left of them, creating a huge crater as it blew away earth and a few soldiers who'd been there mere seconds ago. His ears were ringing. People were screaming but he could barely hear them. He looked up, raising his own voice to the chorus of voices, "TAKE COVER."

He gestured for the boys around him to find cover, turning to ensure that Bucky was already moving before he darted towards the rest of his company. They'd taken shelter a few 100 yards behind him and the commandos. Except for those unlucky few who'd stuck close. The first bomb had taken them out quick enough.

His legs were pumping, and he could see them right in front of him scrambling to find cover. He can hear the sirens starting in the background but they're far too late. Another explosion turns his world upside down, and he finds himself much closer to the ground than he had been, as more bombs rain down around him. The sound is distorted, and the ringing in his ears grew louder.

He struggles to get up. He has to get to them. HE has to save them, he brought them here. He has to save them. He stumbles, braces himself on the broken remains of one of the slender but proud trees that littered the forests here.

Another bomb goes off a ways from him. He rolls to the ground to avoid the splinters. He learned quick enough that the splinters, and shrapnel were just as dangerous, if not more so, than the bombs themselves.

He starts to crawl, the snow is cold underneath him and the steam rises around him as bombs light up the night sky. He almost crawls over the first corpse; a large wooden splinter went straight through the boys neck. It was one of the rookies, a sweet boy named Danny. Boys like him weren't made for places like this. Steve forces himself to hold back the bile, lifting his fingers he closes the boy's eyes and keeps going.

He stumbles across a group of five huddles together. "Find cover," he shouts above the noise, but they're frozen, staring up at him with those frightening, unseeing eyes. God, how he hates those eyes. "Now!" he shouts again, grabbing the nearest boy and hauling him up. "GO"

They start moving, he doesn't know where they'll go but they have to move. He starts to follow them, only to look back when he realized one of them hadn't followed. It was Johnny boy, with those cold lifeless green eyes of his. He was two hundred feet behind them. How had he not noticed sooner?

"Go on." He called to the nearest boy, "I got him." They are quick to do as he says, he hopes they make it.

He'd just turned back to face Johnny boy, their eyes connecting as he remains frozen, when the whistle that accompanies another bomb screeches overhead. He tries to call out but he knows it's too late.

The impact sends him hurdling into a tree, and he loses consciousness for some time. When he awakens, the first thing he notices is the deadly calm that's settles around him. The bombs have stopped. That must have been what woke him. And the screaming, the screaming will start up soon. As if they heard him, they start, painful moans turning into full on screams as soldiers recognize their own pain. The wounded lay littered through the forest. Their agony bleeding into him. It's painful to listen to them. Most of them won't ever make it out of this forest. Their wounds are far too severe for treatment.

But right now, he can only focus on those eyes, watching him before the impact. He stumbled towards where he'd last seen Johnny boy.

He falls to his knees, pulling the boys head into his lap. He's missing most of his lower body, and his upper body is a charred broken mess. And those eyes, those empty green eyes are staring blankly up at him.

Steve could never decide if they were worse when he was alive or dead. Somehow they're both just as terrible. This time he doesn't fight the vomit, just turns his head and empties his stomach. He was done with this war. He was done with the death and the pain and the suffering. But it wasn't done with him.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but eventually he feels the weight of Bucky's hand on his shoulder. "Steve you have to let him go, he's gone."

It was only then he realized he'd been crying.

"Steve, let him go, you already failed him, there's nothing more you can do. You've failed us all." Bucky, Howard, Peggy, and a crowd of lifeless corpses sang the words at him. They're cool eyes regarding him with something he was loathe to call anything but hate.

That didn't sound right, and Steve opened his mouth to protest, but he knew deep down that the words were true. Just another blinding failure to weigh on him at night, he wondered how many other failures he'd collected that day.