Chapter Summary: The end. But every ending is a new beginning and while the future may not always be easy for Steve and Darcy, it's guaranteed to be iinteresting/i. They can work with that.

A/n: Full disclosure, this is another chapter that earns this story its 'M' rating. Many, many thanks to Meri, Katy, and Rainne for advance help and talking me through the crises. More notes at the end of the chapter.

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones

Enough to make my systems blow

Welcome to the new age

- Radioactive, Imagine Dragons

Waking up inside of the dreams can happen any number of ways, Steve's learned. Sometimes they start at the beginning, like he's watching a movie and just following the story like a good little observer. Other times he's slammed down right in the middle of the action and has to hit the ground running just to keep up with what's going on, an active participant in this dream world.

And then...then there's dreams like this, the likes of which he's certain he's never experienced before. At least, not with any degree of consciousness or clarity.

There's a body pressed up against his as he lies prone on his side, her bare back to his bare front. One hand keeps skating down her stomach and up over her breasts, pulling her close with every pass, while his other arm cradles her head, fingertips stroking the soft skin on the side of her throat. He buries his face in the mass of hair in front of him, watching as the dark waves shift and part over pale shoulders. Steve's mouth searches out the small tattoo on her nape, that twisting infinity sign, and he sucks gently at it. This makes Darcy's head roll back, nestling comfortably against his neck.

Steve can feel her breathing, gasping little shudders that break the stillness of this hazy enclosure, gauzy white curtains surrounding a large bed making up the entirety of this little world. Darcy's leg bends and arches over his own, and he realizes he's already inside her, achingly hard and deep. "God, Steve," she moans, reaching around to dig her nails into the curve of his ass.

Her voice makes him pause, body going still behind and within hers. No. It's too far.

He moves to withdraw from her, to put some safe distance between them, but Darcy's leg stiffens and her fingers lock tight around his hip, keeping him close and inside of her. So he stills again, one hand falling heavy on her stomach. She whines, a tight noise that vibrates in her throat as she tosses her head back. Her hips flex, bringing him even deeper inside her, and Steve's fingers jerk convulsively against her abdomen. "Hey," he says, pressing down firmly to try and get her to stop moving. He's got to stop this before it's too late.

But then Darcy turns, looking back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes are sharp, bright, and above all clear. She knows exactly what's going on, Steve realizes, which makes something snap to attention inside him. So he tips his head forward, just slightly, so he can whisper in her ear. "Tell me to stop," he breathes. One last chance to go back.

Her hand darts up to the back of his head, grasping the short hairs there hard enough to nearly make his eyes water. "Don't you fucking dare," Darcy says.

Steve surges forward and kisses her roughly, and her mouth immediately opens under his, firm lips meeting his eagerly. Her hand slides out of his hair and tangles with his, pulling it up towards her breasts and squeezing tight. He thrusts inside her again, and she moans into his mouth. Steve breaks the kiss with a rough gasp, and begins to mouth at the curve of her neck once more, tracing his tongue over the lines of her tattoo.

Their clasped hands slide across the white sheets, and Darcy's body moves right after, twisting so that she's spread out on her stomach. Steve follows, feeling the curves and planes of her body beneath as he drapes himself over her. This angle's even better, he realizes, as he starts moving inside her once more. She cants her hips up, explicit permission for him to keep going.

The movements of their bodies become a blur, just skin over, against, inside each other. Their hands stay clenched together as Darcy arches underneath him. She tosses her head back as Steve keeps moving, keeps going, determined to make both of them explode into sparks and starlight before long.

There are noises outside the white curtains of the bed, eerily familiar sounds that make Steve shudder instinctively, body twitching with the unpleasant physical memories. But Darcy's breath is getting rougher in his ears, and she's holding onto his hands even tighter. It's easy for Steve to ignore what's happening outside then, especially when he's got all of this right there with him.

It could be mere seconds or hours later when he feels Darcy's body begin to shake, her internal muscles clenching around him as the grip on his hands increases. She gasps his name loudly, drowning out the other noises, and it's all Steve can do to jerk against her once, twice, coming inside her as he muffles his own cries in her neck.

Steve rolls off of her, flopping back into the pillows and breathing heavily like he's just run thirty miles at top speed. It should be weird, he thinks, that with one little dream they've blown all of their previously held (if tenuous) boundaries all to shit, but instead he just feels...relaxed. His limbs are heavy, and his whole body's tingling slightly, and it feels surprisingly good. But still.

Darcy rolls over, stretching her body alongside his and resting her head on his shoulder. Steve tips his head down to look at her, sees her closed eyes and smudgy lashes dark against her skin. "This changes everything," he murmurs softly.

"Hmm." She hums briefly, eyes still closed. "It doesn't have to," Darcy eventually says, equally as quiet. "'S just a dream. When we wake up, it can be like this never happened."

Her words send an unpleasant shiver down his spine. That thought of losing something he finally has that he never even knew he wanted before leaves him cold, and Steve realizes quickly that if he doesn't say something, then this chance could pass him by.

And suddenly, that's the last thing he wants.

"Is that what you want?" he asks. "To go back to how things were before?"

Darcy's eyes flutter open, deep blue and gleaming in the watery light. She tilts her head to look up at him, chewing just slightly on her lower lip. Her hand comes up, pressing lightly on his sternum. "No," she says. "I don't want to go back." Steve just nods at that. "What about you? What do you want?" she asks him.

"I don't want to go back either," Steve says, the words coming out with a rush of breath. His hand enfolds hers once more, squeezing lightly.

The smile that spreads across Darcy's face is slow, lips quirking up at the corners with just a little dip in the middle. "Okay, so how about this - in the morning, when we're both wide awake, we're gonna go out for breakfast and talk about all of this."

"It makes it real that way, doesn't it?"

"Exactly."

"Good. But until then…" Steve brings his free arm up around Darcy's back and pulls her into an open-mouthed kiss. She meets his mouth eagerly, leaning into him and stroking her hand up and down his stomach.

They kiss for another length of immeasurable time, mouths coming together and splitting apart only to nibble and gasp and lick and sigh. And while it's not quite real, not just yet, it will be soon. That makes all the difference.

But then, then the sound of the explosions comes surging back, filling Steve's ears with screams and cries, the noises of charging tanks and the sharp cracks of gunfire. He pulls back from Darcy's mouth with a sharp gasp, squeezing his eyes shut as if it can make the noises stop. "What is it?" he hears Darcy say, only briefly drowning out the battle sounds.

"You don't hear that?" he hisses through clenched teeth, the noises getting louder and making it harder for him to concentrate. "The explosions? The guns?" The sounds of all of the battles he fought back in the war that were still as close to him as if they'd happened only yesterday.

"No." At the touch of her fingers on his face Steve pries his eyes open, seeing Darcy looking down at him with what could only be described as worry. "There's nothing there," she says, stroking her thumbs along his cheekbones. "It's just you, me, and this really big bed."

There's another explosion in his ears, bringing up the memories of running away from torched Hydra bases. He can almost feel the heat from the flames on his skin, and his body convulses painfully. If he looks down at the sheets, he imagines that he'll see them turning scorched and black, but when he flicks his eyes to the side they're still pristine white and slightly rumpled. "It's all in your head," Darcy says, trying to bring his attention back to her. "It's not real."

"Feels damn real," Steve mutters, squeezing his eyes closed once more even though it really doesn't help at all.

"Yeah, but it's not. So all you've got to do is wake up, Steve."

It can't be that easy, though. It never is.

Yes it is, Steve.

His eyes open again, meeting Darcy's and locking onto them, wide and clear and looking a lot stronger than he's feeling at that moment.

Wake up.

The sound of bombs is still ringing in Steve's head when he snaps awake. His arms fall to his side, heavy on the mattress, as he works hard to get his breathing under control and his mind clear of the images flashing behind his eyelids. The sounds of battle, gunfire and shouts, fire crackling through wooden buildings, innocent people crying and screaming, and whistling bombs dropping are all around him, and it takes a minute for him to convince himself that he's in his bed, in Brooklyn, in the 21st century.

Sometimes his dreams tire him out, even when they begin pleasantly, and it's much easier to focus on that aspect for the moment. The way that Darcy's body moved with his and how, even in the dream world where everything is sort of cloudy and not quite realistic, she was so responsive to his touch. It's more than that, though. The knowledge that Darcy's feeling the same things he is, that their relationship is far deeper than just friendship is so incredibly important.

That even here, sixty-seven years in the future after almost certain death, he's not alone. And that Darcy's thoughts in regards to him - to them - have been following the same paths as his own is a potent one.

Maybe he does have a home here, in the last place he ever thought he'd find one.

And yet the damned nightmares and war visions keep playing out in his brain. Every time Steve closes his eyes, whether it's to try to fall back asleep or to remember the sight of Darcy coming apart beneath him, the sights of blood and battle surge back. Yeah, sleep's not going to be happening any time soon, at least not tonight.

He kicks his legs out of the top sheet and pushes it to the floor as he sits up; it's destined for the laundry basket anyway after that dream. His breathing has slowed at least, to the point where it doesn't feel like his lungs are about to burst out of his chest anymore. Steve's about to get in the shower, testing the water temperature with one hand, when the phone rings.

There's only two people who call him at this time of the middle of the night, and he's pretty sure it's not Nick Fury. So Steve walks out of the bathroom, not even bothering to wrap a towel around himself, and picks up the phone. "Hey, Darcy."

"Hey you. You feeling okay?"

Steve huffs, wrapping an arm around his middle. "Not really," he admits.

"You wanna talk about it?" He can hear the hesitation, the nervousness in her voice, and he wishes he could reassure her as much as possible, even though he knows it won't be enough. It's nice to have someone that concerned about him, however.

"What I want to do is go punch something really hard," Steve says. "Maybe some time pounding the heavy bags will help."

"Screw sleep then, huh?"

"I don't think I'm going to be sleeping again tonight. You sound like you're about to drop off any second, however." It's true, Darcy's voice is low and murmuring, and it's a bit of a balm against his frayed nerves.

"Yeah, but you're not gonna be there," Darcy says. "It's going to be lonely."

The good images from the dream come rushing back once more, the curve of her neck that he'd buried his face in, and the way her fingers gripped his tighter and tighter. Steve can feel the flush steal over his cheeks, burning warm. "Well, we did say that we were going to talk in the morning, weren't we?"

"We don't have to," Darcy says with a rush of breath. "I mean, if you're too tired or too wiped out - "

"No, I want to talk," Steve cuts her off mid-sentence. The last thing he wants is to give her the wrong idea. This means too much to him, and he's not going to let any more opportunities slip through his fingers. "I don't want us to go back to how things were," he says. "I want us to go forward."

"Me too," she replies, and Steve can hear the smile sneaking out in her voice. "Okay, go beat the crap out of something, and then...then we'll talk."

"Then we'll talk. Get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."

"Mmm, 'kay. Good night."

"Good night." He clicks the phone off, and hangs onto it for a second before placing it back in its cradle. The war visions are still there behind his eyes and swirling through his head, but there's a part of him that feels a little lighter.

The visions are worse by the time Steve gets to the gym, the easy and warm conversation of earlier overridden by images of tearing through European forests as he runs through hails of bullets. He wraps his hands to the memory of Bucky's screaming in his ears as he falls into that endless ravine filled with ice.

The sounds of his fists on the heavy bag blend into the sound of Peggy's voice echoing in his ears. Each impact of skin on the thick canvas reminds him of the cracking sounds of metal and ice. Steve can almost feel the sharp sting of the breeze through the broken window of the Valkyrie on his face as he falls into a rhythm.

Sweat shouldn't be icy cold like that, but he can't escape it.

And then the muffled voices that sneak through what he thought was his dying dream.

'Oh my god, this guy's still alive!'

One especially hard punch splits the bag and snaps the chains holding it, and it goes flying back towards the wall in a shower of sand and shredded canvas. Steve drops his fists and breathes deeply; his heart's racing again and he's got to try and get it under control. 'Come on, Rogers, you're strong. You can do this.'

Steve sighs and moves over to grab another punching bag from the neat line of them laid out on the floor. It's not the first time he's broken a bag, and some well placed dollars in the gym owner's hand ensured that he'd have enough bags there to replace the ones he's busted open. He's got the money now, he might as well use it to help exorcise his demons, one punch at a time.

And one step at a time, he'll walk into the future. At least now he's got a hand to hold.

Steve's fists have barely impacted the new bag when he hears heavy footsteps thudding on the floors behind him. But there's a familiar cadence to those steps, and he doesn't let up on the punches, not until the person finally speaks.

"Trouble sleeping?" Nick Fury says.

"Slept for seventy years, sir. I think I've had my fill."

A/n, part two: *ducks behind flak jacket* Don't shoot? Please?

I'm sticking to my original plan though, and the story involving the events of the Avengers will be its own separate entity. Probably because the format will be a bit different than this one (no dream in each chapter), and also because I feel like the events need their own story. So while this story in the series is done, we've still got lots more to go. Hang tight - I promise more is on the way...and there will be a little more resolution than what we have above. ;)

It's been a hell of a ride. My deepest thanks to absolutely everyone who's kudos'd, favorited, reblogged, commented, and more - you have no idea how much it warms my heart to know that people like my strange little stories. I'm probably going to take a short break from this 'verse to work on an editing project, and make a little headway in a Doctor Who/Avengers crossover I've got going on, but the outline for the follow up story to this one has already been started, so it'll be arriving sooner than you think. And you have my full permission to prod me as to when the next story will be here. ;)

Thank you all for reading - I hope you've enjoyed reading the story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.