Every nerve was on fire, the pain excruciating and seemingly without end—he'd lost track of how long it had been since the lightning had sprung him from the deep, penetrating cold of the ice which had been his tomb. Every second was torn from him, bleeding into everlasting minutes, time without end.
Then it stopped.
He had time enough only to gasp two breaths, weaker than any he'd taken as an asthmatic child, before the agony started again.
He could see nothing, nothing at all even with his eyes wide open, but he could feel. Feel the lightning, feel the sharpness of the cold that was lying in wait at the very edge of his awareness, feel the air caught in his lungs suddenly expel in a rush when something collided with his stomach, feel the hands that were twisting and pulling at him as the lightning faded, turning into an afterimage scored into his mind and body, always to be remembered, to be feared.
He could feel his mind letting go, losing its grip on one thing after the other, details fading, ripping, dissolving into the smallest of remnants until there was nothing left inside him anymore. Nothing of substance or quality.
He was a blank slate, blind and bound, and then he was thrust back into the ice once again.
The ice always returned for him.
Just like he'd wanted, despite the exact details of his plan not being decided until Schmidt was dead and the remaining weapons accounted for. He'd wanted to die, wanted to give in, but he couldn't until his work was done.
And then it was.
And then he'd fallen, no, crashed; deliberately pushing the aircraft as far north as he could, away from the dense population of the East Coast, hoping it was far enough that if the weapons did manage to explode, that they would harm as few people as possible. And hoping it was far enough away that no one would be able to rescue him.
The grief was everything, in those last moments, replacing even the ice and lightning that still seemed to linger—from where, he couldn't remember.
The blank slate he'd been minutes before was now filled with the despair of losing most of his soul, it having been shredded the moment one soulmate disappeared in a flash of green and gold, and completely ripped away when he'd lunged and missed the hand of the other. One he'd loved as easily as breathing, and one he'd only just begun to realize had always been missing from his life. Both nestled into his soul, old and new alike, as if they had always belonged there.
Gone.
Gone.
And he was the only one left.
Not for long.
The pain filled him to the point that the impact of the aircraft into the icy depths of the dark Atlantic Ocean only registered as just one more point on an already overloaded scale. His body screamed with heartbreak, taking on the excess that overflowed from his mind, heart, and soul and turning it into deep, physical agony which bled together so quickly he could no longer differentiate his body from the world around him. He couldn't feel the icy water tugging at him, filling him, burning his lungs and scraping at his flesh, though he knew, in the smallest corner of his mind, that it was happening—and he embraced it, because his struggle, his pain, was finally over—because the ice and cold within him had already taken over.
The world around him bled from darkness into blackness… and finally into nothingness.
If he couldn't have light and love and his soul, he would take nothingness.
One last thought chased him down into death. I'm sorry. So, so sorry, Bucky. Toni. God. Forgive me. Forgive me…
"—no, no, there's nothing to forgive. Nothing, Steve. I forgive you anyway, but there's nothing to forgive, sweetie, baby, lovely, dear heart. I've got you. I've got you, Steve, I've got you…"
Steve was drawn out of the dark and cold nothingness and into warmth and light and substance by the whispered though fervent words which tumbled one over the other and repeated, like a litany or a prayer, against the crown of his head. Warm breath accompanied the words, displacing his hair with each one that passed her lips. Warmth wrapped around him, her body clutching his to hers, legs tangled and hands moving soothingly—just this edge of frantic—across his back, his shoulders, his neck and head and hair, over and under his shirt. Warmth wrapped around his mind, flooding into the part of him that had been partially emptied and then fully divested when both of his bonds had died—and he remembered.
He remembered the pain, but for the first time in what felt like too long he also remembered there was good in the world; that there was something good waiting for him if he just opened his eyes. That there was someone good, and she was right here, right now, showing him just how good she could be.
Toni.
"Toni," he murmured, getting the words past his lips on the second try.
She immediately stilled, then started to pull away from him, probably just so she could look him in the eye, but he brought his one free arm up and around her and clutched her to him instead. He breathed in deeply, taking in the citrus scent he'd noticed and loved yesterday, or today, or whatever it was. One breath, two, then a trembling third, before he pulled back and looked her in the eye.
Shirt and shorts wrinkled, hair frizzing into a dark cloud around her, and doe-brown eyes that were filled with compassion for him and her own sadness, yet still so beautiful, he realized for probably the fourth time but what felt like the first.
"I'm sorry you had to experience that," he said softly after drinking in the sight of her for a good long moment, though he knew exactly what her response would be to that statement. He'd still needed to say it.
"I'm not," Toni returned quickly, fiercely, a frown scrunching together the space between her eyebrows in a way that shouldn't be as becoming as it was.
"I know," Steve admitted, lips twisting. "It's still not something I would wish on anyone, to feel what I felt then. The iciness, the emptiness, the soullessness filling me long before I ever got on the Valkyrie."
Instead of responding right away, Toni pushed Steve over with rather remarkable upper body strength, and then curled under his arm and against his side. She buried her face in the cloth of his shirt, breathing him in and just… liking being where she was.
He could feel it, clear as day through the bond. He'd felt it before, last time he'd been awake, but there had been so many other things flooding through the bond that he'd not focused on it. So much grief that he could finally share, and relief that he'd never thought he'd feel, and the undercurrent of love that had been beneath it all.
Today, right now, he could focus on the latter, or at least let the rest of it go, just a little.
"Thank you for sharing with me, even if you didn't intend to," Toni said finally, long minutes of just being held again later, as she lifted her head to look up at him.
So beautiful.
Steve didn't even think to hesitate as he lifted his free hand to her face, and her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers traced her features. The pale skin, flecked with the most minuscule of scars that he recognized as coming from a lifetime of welding and other metalworking. The full head of black curls spread all around her face, every which way, and which he couldn't resist sinking his fingers into to mess up even further. The pale red of her lips, swollen from worrying with her teeth…
Toni sat up abruptly, her pale skin easily giving away the blush that was blooming across her cheeks. Steve felt a brief flash of regret at not taking the opportunity to kiss her, like they'd both so obviously thought he would, but he also knew it wasn't the right time. For either of them. He'd learned enough over the years to know that she would still be skittish around him, especially because of the way he'd acted before Bucky had kicked his ass, and that though they were soulmates and they'd acknowledged and renewed their bond… she and he both needed to heal a little more.
As much as he might want to—and Toni, if what he felt through the bond was any indication—kiss her right then, it would only complicate things. She wouldn't trust that he hadn't kissed her out of some desperate sense of loss and grief, rebounding from one soulmate to the other; the only one he had now that his first soulmate was… gone. He didn't want her to think she was a replacement, though he wasn't exactly sure how he'd go about proving that to her.
Steve wanted to do right by her.
He gave her a wry little smile, and was grateful when she returned it.
"Would you like to…" She searched for the right word, but apparently didn't find one satisfactory enough. "Hm. Uh. I don't exactly know what to offer you right now." She scrunched her face up a little. "Like, I don't want to be indelicate, but I also don't want to pussyfoot around the fact that you've woken up in the future. And I have zero clue what the next step is, honestly, despite madly preparing—and thank god you were there, you have no fucking clue how relieved I feel at that—for your arrival. I have clothes, uh, obviously, and food you might like but have probably never tried, this suite of rooms—mine's on this floor, too—and even had JARVIS put together a highlight reel of what you've missed in the, uh, last sixty-six years. That must be really weird, okay—"
Steve gently cut off her increasingly anxious rambling with a little laugh, sitting up alongside her. "Toni. Hey. Hey, we're okay." He swallowed thickly as emotions welled within him and between them, the bond still fairly fresh and open. "You're alive. I'm alive. That's something, right?"
Her expression sobered right up and he knew what she was thinking without even needing to feel it in the bond, and he got right out in front of that thought before she could speak it. "I know. I'm still mourning, I am, but I can't shut down like I did before. Not now that you're here." He blinked back tears, swallowed thickly, and brushed one of his thumbs across Toni's chin and over her lower lip. "I owe you that much. I owe me that much. And I owe him that much. It'll never be okay, but…" He trailed off, not quite knowing how to express what he was thinking, what he was feeling, what she was feeling.
"Okay," Toni replied gently, tears shining in her eyes without falling. "Okay, that's fair. But… you need anything, you tell me, yeah?" she queried.
He smiled gently at her, still fighting back tears that he knew she knew about but was ignoring just for him. He appreciated that; he appreciated so much about her.
As if sensing Steve needed a moment to gather his composure, maybe more, Toni pushed herself up off the bed and stretched—the sight of the bare skin of her stomach was nearly enough to shock himself out of his thoughts—and declared, "Mmkay, I'm going to go make some coffee and, I dunno, find out what I have in this place that's fit for a super soldier to eat for breakfast. You just… you take your time, okay? As much as you need."
Steve nodded, not trusting his voice, and she smiled one more time at him before striding out, bare feet padding softly enough on the blue carpet that even he barely caught the sound.
As soon as Toni left the room, tears streaked down Steve's cheeks. He could feel Toni falter through the bond at the emotions barreling through it from Steve, but she was kind enough to pretend she hadn't noticed, at least for the moment, and left Steve to the chaos of his thoughts as he attempted to make sense of his new world.
He may have Toni back, and even in his arms—something amazing, and someone incredible he'd thought impossible to have back again—but he'd still lost what had once been everything to him.
Guilt filled him at the fact he'd spent much of the conversation with Toni feeling content, her touch soothing the grief that had plagued him for a week, nearly two, since Bucky had…
Steve buried his face in his hands and let the tears fall in earnest, sobs wrenching from his throat in the safety of his room, knowing that Toni would come if he called but that otherwise she'd respect his need for privacy. To grieve for the man who had, yes, become her soulmate as well… but with whom Steve had shared years more of his life with. He knew she didn't resent him that grief, and never would, and that she wouldn't pry.
God, he loved them both.
But Bucky…
Bucky was gone, and the war was no longer there to distract his thoughts and focus his attention.
He finally let it consume him.
Nearly an hour later, Steve carefully pulled the pieces of himself back together, pushed himself from off of the bed, and gathered his courage around him like his shield.
At least he didn't have to face this new world alone.
When he found her, sitting in front of what he distantly recognized as a breathtaking skyline view of New York City, he dropped to his knees beside her on the floor and leaned his forehead against the bare skin of her thigh, breathing her scent deeply in. "Tell me," he rasped, seconds of stabilizing breaths later. He looked up, swallowed, paused, and a moment later she pressed a glass of water into his hands. "Tell me what I missed," he finished.
Her eyes were sad, but also filled with understanding at what he was trying—and hopefully succeeding—to do. She placed a gentle hand on his head, threading her fingers into his slightly too long hair, and he pressed his head back against her leg as she hummed her agreement, her understanding.
A moment later, she began to change his world.
Scratch that.
A moment later, she continued to change his world.
That whole first day he and Toni had rolled up their sleeves and dug into what Steve needed to know. He knew that not knowing, that hiding under a rock, would throw him off far more than leaning into the pain and opening himself to the new normal, as Toni put it, would, for one, help distract him, and two, he was honestly curious. The new normal. It was a good term. One that fit. Melancholic, but appropriate. He wasn't sure if there would be any part of his life that didn't have a hint of melancholy anymore. He wasn't sure if he'd want it any other way.
There were things he understood and recognized as familiar from Toni's stories about the future, things she'd told them about while they were in the past. Like desegregation and Stonewall and other gay and minority rights. Conversely, there were things he'd thought he'd understood, but in reality he couldn't wrap his mind around, or had pictured completely differently. Like television and the space shuttles, let alone the satellites. And then there were the things she'd never mentioned and he'd never even conceived of, or at least never thought possible.
Like landing on the moon. The space race, the Cold War—he wasn't sure how she'd managed to forget that topic—and the absolute debacle that was the Vietnam War, which made his heart clench and ache for his fellow veterans, both those who survived, broken and forgotten, and those who'd died. Both fundamentally betrayed by the country Steve himself had served so faithfully and passionately.
It made him realize certain things about himself, much of which he wasn't sure how to put into words, but one thing was clear: he had gone to war to serve his fellow countrymen, his fellow soldiers, the innocents left behind, and those who needed someone to fight on their behalf no matter the country they called home—he'd fought for them, not for his country. It was something he had known, to some extent, but never in such a clear manner. Never with such an example to compare himself and the war he'd fought against.
Later, when Toni got up and wandered off towards the kitchen to look at the so-called takeout menus for lunch, Steve finally let himself get up and go look out the floor to ceiling windows. The view from the couch had been breathtaking, but Stark Tower—really, Toni?—was so high up in the sky that he'd barely been able to see much of anything he recognized. As soon as he finished his approach and took a good look outside, he was arrested by the view in front of him, completely forgetting the hunger that had started clawing at his stomach during their conversation without him noticing.
New York City.
Toni had never actually said he was in New York, but even before he'd caught a glimpse through the window when he'd stumbled out of the room that morning, he had sort of… assumed he was here, if that made any sense to anyone but him. He'd felt like he was somewhere safe, somewhere warm, he had a soulmate at his side… he had only ever equated that with home, and home was New York.
Well, Brooklyn was.
From the look of the skyline, he was somewhere in Manhattan, which made sense, though the view was actually rather alien to him, despite him recognizing key features. Steve stepped closer to the floor to ceiling, wall to wall window, the tips of his bare toes touching the glass as he slowly panned his gaze across the bright horizon and the nearby sun-reflecting buildings alike.
It was at once familiar and different, the slight changes enough to make him feel as if something was wrong, something buzzing just beneath the surface of his skin, an itch that he couldn't quite scratch…
It was both home and alien, past and future, comforting and disconcerting. And so many other things clawing at the back of Steve's mind that he knew he just couldn't afford to give into right then.
The city laid out before him was his home, though. That, Steve knew. It might be a slightly altered home, but it was still New York. Toni had told him once—and intimated enough other times—that New Yorkers from all five boroughs and beyond were still mostly, basically the same. That the landscape may change, buildings come and go, but the heart of New York was still its people, and the people were both always evolving, and never changing.
It made sense to a New Yorker, that was all that mattered, and remembering that brought him some small measure of comfort as he caught sight of familiar landmarks and brought his gaze south. There was the elegant beauty of the Chrysler building, a lot closer than he'd expected it to be, and he revised his location to Midtown Manhattan, Brooklyn visible only as a large swath of mostly featureless and amorphous bundles of buildings and tenements and stores, even to his eyes, though a few familiar skyscrapers like the tiered form of the Williamsburgh Savings Bank Tower gave him hope that much of Brooklyn would still be the same as before.
Home.
Or what used to be home.
Perhaps, with time, it could be again.
The second day was spent—somewhat hilariously—learning new tech. Toni had grumbled about having to catch up to her own inventions, something about paradoxes and butterfly effects that he only understood because Bucky had been a huge fan of science fiction from the start, though he was only just beginning to wrap his mind around the specifics with the examples Toni laid out for him. It was hard enough wrapping his mind around modern computers and tablets and mobile, cordless, space-age looking 'smart' phones without going completely batty, but hey, at least it kept him occupied. And to see Toni so at ease and comfortable and even happy discussing her inventions, taking the time to teach him, smiling supportively as he mastered steps quickly and wrinkling her nose at him when he huffed in frustration, though still eagerly encouraging him… it was sure something. He'd never felt closer to her, and seeing her pride in his progress was not in the least bit patronizing. He smiled back, and something within him, between them, settled that much more comfortably.
That evening, though, JARVIS—who had also been a tremendous resource, patiently explaining sequences of historical events and political changes as easily as Toni explained the technology and pop culture—announced the arrival of visitors. Toni frowned a little, then smiled softly, happily, when JARVIS announced it was Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes, clearly happy to hear from her best friends. Yet she still turned to him, asking with her eyes if he was up to meeting them. It warmed his heart to see, and though he was still not quite in the mood for company—then again, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be—it was either that or continuing to try to understand the Cold War, something which had been giving even him a headache for the last twenty minutes.
Plus, he was rather curious as to how Toni's best friends—and former girlfriend, come to think of it, huh—would measure up in real life compared to the image he'd formed of them in his mind.
He hadn't been disappointed one bit.
Ms. Potts was a stunning, lithe, and perfectly-dressed and -coiffed strawberry-blonde with a welcoming smile for Steve after she wrapped Toni up in her arms for a brief but grand hug. Steve didn't feel an ounce of jealousy—not because he didn't care about Toni, but because Pepper, as she offered for him to call her, so obviously cared for Toni's well-being that he had no room for anything else but gratitude for the woman who drew him into a hug all his own. When she pulled back, she pressed a long, elegant hand to his cheek and looked him right in the eyes, nearly unblinking, before pulling away with a nod and a smile.
Colonel Rhodes—Jim, Rhodes, or Rhodey, he offered with a laugh as Toni tried to suggest calling him platypus or honey bear of all things—looked older than his years, which were already a fair few beyond Toni's years, but the stern cast to his features easily switched to a just as welcoming smile as Pepper's. There were as many laugh lines as frown lines, and Steve was one hundred percent certain that Toni was responsible for the vast majority of both. Little sisters—he'd seen it often enough with the Barnes siblings to recognize the way the two looked at each other, and the way all three revolved around each other, not just around Toni. Steve offered a hand to shake rather than a salute—for one thing, he wasn't even sure of his status anymore as a captain—but was surprised when Rhodes gathered him into a hug that showed just how he'd gotten the nickname 'honey bear'.
They didn't stay for long, obviously well aware of just how much he and Toni were still hurting, were still not entirely ready for others, but the half hour they stayed had been enlightening.
Steve had learned a whole lot of embarrassing things about his soulmate, in much the same manner as how his own mother had delighted in telling Bucky all about every single embarrassing part of his own childhood.
He'd grinned at the flush taking over Toni's cheeks, laughed delightfully at her theatrical pouts, and nudged her gently in the ribs with his elbow so as to remind her that he was there for her, laughing with her, not at her—okay, maybe just a little at her, but they all recognized it as a ritual seemingly as old as time. Tradition that carried through the decades, the centuries, barely changed and changed only by the specifics of the stories themselves and not the nature of them. And that offered comfort. Melancholic comfort, yes, as he'd thought of before, but comfort nonetheless. Proof that though times changed, they remained the same.
It made things even just the littlest bit easier.
He could tell that Pepper and Rhodes were protective of Toni, and he was supremely grateful that she had friends like that, but he was also very glad that the shovel talk had only remained in their gazes, and briefly at that, near the end of their stay. He'd nodded to them to acknowledge it, catching their gaze and not looking away as he had, and their posture had relaxed that much further, clearly at ease with him, even welcoming—definitely welcoming, in fact. He should've known their acceptance and welcoming of him wouldn't go away so quickly.
Near the end of the short visit, just after she'd given him the wordless shovel talk, Pepper had pulled him aside and handed him a piece of paper listing the numerous ways he could contact her, Rhodes, or others who could help him with anything he might need, big or small. She'd even included an unlabeled number at the bottom that she'd explained was for an anonymous and confidential veteran's outreach line, though she acknowledged he might not feel comfortable with calling them. Not yet. But still, the mere fact that she'd put this much effort into it, cared enough about him as a person, not just as an extension of Toni, was clear, and he'd barely stopped himself from tearing up.
Pepper had placed a hand lightly on his shoulder, offering comfort without presuming anything beyond that, and he'd covered it with his own hand only a bare few seconds later. Steve squeezed her fingers lightly, she'd offered him a smile, and that was that.
Simple.
But it meant oh so much.
The third day, he woke up feeling cooped up. Tender, vulnerable, rubbed raw, and chomping at the bit to get out, to do something. To fight, to advance, to storm another line—but there was no line to storm. The war was over. That war, at least. He knew that most of that was because he'd been wrenched right out of the war before it could truly end, but he had learned to take some comfort in the fact that he'd removed Hydra, Red Skull, and the Valkyrie and her bombs from the game before he'd died—well, 'died'. This, though, felt like anything but comfort.
He'd paced. He'd been to the gym—the wonderful gym that felt like it'd been designed just for him. He'd read droves more of new, recent history, he'd practiced with his shield—he'd even been introduced to the astonishing Star Trek, which had both filled him with awe and a bittersweet ache at the thought that Bucky would appreciate and love this show that much more than Steve did, which was still a large amount. He'd tried new foods, had pulled Toni into more hugs than she seemed to know what to do with—each as much for him as for her—had woken up feeling safe and comforted and loved, unable to sleep without her skin touching his and driving away the worst of the nightmares, both his and hers, and yet still he couldn't quite get rid of the itch underneath his skin.
The itch, the urge, to do something. Anything. Anything productive, helpful.
Going from behind enemy lines in the biggest war in human history—it still was, and that was both shocking and reassuring, admittedly—to near-convalescence?
Not his thing.
At all.
Steve pondered Toni. She herself seemed a little off, as if there was an itch she wasn't quite able to scratch either. She'd been wonderful the last couple of days, but he knew she was being careful. He could tell that she was changing her habits to fit around his presence in her life, could tell that she maybe even needed a little bit of the gentleness for herself and her own healing process. She'd lost plenty right there alongside him, specifics aside, and he'd at least had going on two weeks now to handle his grief; for it to… dull a little, even if it still felt like a serrated blade dug deep between his ribs and into his heart. She was quieter than she'd been, even back in the past, despite the comfort of her home around her. Some things had changed, and she'd even explained some of it, but it was still her home, so he knew that wasn't what was bothering her. Not fully, at least. Ultimately, he knew she was holding back on his behalf. He would often look up, something catching his eye on the peripherals, and catch her fidgeting—whether it was her fingers or her legs or her fingers on her legs, or her toes, or half-aborted attempts at pacing or switching positions on the couch. He appreciated the attempt, had even needed it and enjoyed it, but he also knew that Toni was about to hit her own breaking point.
So when an alarm bell sounded throughout the penthouse and Toni actually relaxed at the sound, he knew that relief of some kind had finally arrived for the woman.
Steve didn't have to wonder for long as to what kind of relief it brought.
"Miss," JARVIS' voice replaced the alarm. "The fire department has requested your assistance for a large blaze on the upper levels of a building in southwest Queens. They are currently on the way with further trucks, but there appears to be at least five families trapped above the line of the fire."
Toni's face was pale as she replied, "Tell them I'll be leaving here in T minus ninety seconds," but the set of her shoulders was still relaxed—or, at least, they had a confident set to them. She was comfortable in this role, and Steve could tell that despite the severity of the situation, the danger to others, this is what she lived for. This was what made her life complete. This was her new lease on life; her purpose after the cave.
"Are you coming or not?" Toni's voice intruded into Steve's thoughts, and he realized it was obviously not the first time she'd asked him. She was waiting inside the elevator, JARVIS obviously holding the doors open, open for him, her hands busy braiding her hair back from her face. It suddenly hit him what exactly was going on, that she was going down to the workshop and her suit, both of which he had yet to see, and that she was going to put the suit on and fly towards danger.
And he could go with her.
Steve looked down at himself, taking in his state of dress—jeans, a red athletic t-shirt, and black running shoes—and despairing only a little even as his heart soared at the idea.
He could be useful again. Better yet, he could help save lives.
And Steve knew in that moment that, war or no war, his purpose in life would always be to be a service to those around him. To help, to aid, to save, to rescue, to fight for the right and the just and the innocent. Like his revelation upon learning about the Vietnam War, but immediate and in the present, applied to his own circumstances.
And Toni was offering to share that life with him. She didn't say it outright, but he could tell just by the way her mind reached out to curl around his mind that that was exactly what she was offering.
All that and more.
"We'll get you something better to wear next time," she said with an impish smile and a little, joyous laugh as he eagerly loped across the penthouse floor to join her in the elevator. "But for now, what would you say to bringing along your shield?" Her hand hovered over the button for the gym, where he'd left it, not even dreaming he would be needing it so soon.
A shield. His shield, with him, in the field.
Steve's heart soared, and tears threatened to choke him up for the first time in three days.
"I'd like that," he said into her haphazard French braid, pulling her close just before the doors opened on the gym and he ran out to grab the vibranium.
A bare half minute later, his eyes still wide from the gleaming sight of her suit—one of those things she'd told him about that he had pictured so obviously incorrectly—he was flying high on more than just hope and purpose.
Note: So, wow, how about the world going nuts, eh? First off, I hope that every last one of you has been okay and that you are continuing to stay okay, whether your life is affected or not by Covid-19, BLM protests, job loss or stress, mental and physical health, family matters... just, any of that. Second of all, and I know I'm always apologizing for something or other, which is pretty annoying, but WOW I am so sorry for how long this took me to update. For a while there I was affected by These Times, both because of how my routine changed and because I was both heartsick and angry due to everything happening to BIPoC, especially to my fellow LGBTQ+ brothers, sisters, and enbies, in particular black trans people. It's just... you know. *sighs* The world can be an awful place, can't it? Throw in some serious mental and physical health issues, and you get me writing barely an inch. Well, okay, I actually sorta rewrote this chapter literally five times, no joke, thousands of new words each, but nothing worked. Nothing was working at all. The change of pace threw me for a loop, and bridge chapters suck so much, oh gosh, but now that this chapter is done, things, uh... should pick up.
I still have a Pacific Rim Stony (fem!Tony) AU and a 'secret for now' Stuckony AU to finish, but I have until the end of the year to do those, since I got the rest of my MTH stuff done, so I see myself working on chapter 28 right alongside those. You can check out all my writing updates on the post I've pinned to the top of my tumblr, which is juuls. I update it about once a month with both fic specifics and general status updates re: my (in)ability to write. I'm a mess, but at least y'all are well-aware of this fact by now. :P So, here's hoping I can start building up some self-confidence as we continue along, especially because all of y'all are amazing and awesome and holy COW we're over 2,500 kudos on AO3!? Like what? How!? I love all of you so much, and will happily give anyone who wants one a hug or a kiss or a handshake or one of my awesome homemade chocolate chip cookies. Thank you so much, everyone. Just... thank you.
I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, despite it being a bridge! Next chapter... hm. Which new (or new to Act II in the future, perhaps) character(s) do you think we'll get to see/hear from? Oh man, I'm excited. I'm slow as hell at writing because of the brain games of bipolar II, but that will never preclude me being excited for this story. Just gotta be in the right state of mind, and the wonderful comments I received (especially the recent ones by cinnamon_tea, yeeyee123, and treesramblings, as well as xDirewolfx who commented on every single chapter (ily) because they were just the right words to get me out of my head) helped get me back to 'normal enough'. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to every one of ALL of you, including those I did not name. 3