This is a LONG one, buckle up! Let me just get out my emotion-bashing hammer.
July, 2016
Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out over the Wakandan forest without really seeing it.
His face was still bruised and his body ached, reminders of his recent fight in the Siberian HYDRA bunker, but that was nothing to the pain beating in his chest and surging through his veins. He'd done what he'd thought was right, in the end. But he knew he'd paid an impossible price.
Looking back, he wasn't sure where it had all started. The disaster in Lagos? Or before that, in their failures in fighting Ultron? Steve frowned. When he'd kept what he suspected about Howard and Maria's deaths from Tony, probably. He could not justify or excuse the decision to keep that from Tony - he supposed he'd been afraid.
Maybe the Avengers had never been meant to last. Maybe Steve was always going to end up this way: a traitor, a man on the run.
He'd written Tony a letter, recently. It had reminded him strangely of all the letters he used to write before the war and the ice. A letter across the ocean, to a friend.
I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. It's all any of us should. So no matter what, I promise you: if you need us, if you need me. I'll be there.
Steve
Mist rolled over the forest beyond the windows.
Just when the future had felt like a home, it had all fallen apart. Losing Peggy had been a blow that Steve should have been expecting, but had still hit him unawares. Then Lagos, and the Sokovia Accords… Steve might be wallowing in a pit of regret and sorrow now, but he didn't regret standing against the Accords. He wasn't sure what Alice would have thought of them, but he knew she would tell him that if he knew what was right, that he should fight for it.
The team had fallen apart. Half on the side of the law, now broken and embittered by perceived betrayal, and the other half on the run.
When he threw his lot against the Accords Committee and became a fugitive, Steve knew he would be losing all his connections. Tony, the rest of the Avengers, Amaya (she'd texted him after Peggy's funeral, but he'd never replied), Alice Johnson (she had simply texted him to say Good luck), and Jilí. He'd had to destroy all his phones, and leave everyone outside his small group of fugitives in the dark. He wondered what they thought of him.
He'd also left behind his letters. He'd read them over several times by now, but the thought of them gathering dust in an abandoned home once again made his heart ache.
I'm sorry, he thought. He'd cut off all his connections to Alice's memory and her remaining family. I hope you'd understand.
He was no longer sure what Alice would think of all this. The world was so much stranger and bigger than it had been when she was alive.
But he had Bucky back.
Standing before the window, Steve finally looked away from the forest and to his right. Bucky stood next to him, also a little beat up, his long hair brushed around his face and his eyes fixed on the forest. A rubber sleeve concealed the broken mess of his torn-off metal arm. He wore clean clothes, provided by the Wakandans, and if Steve listened closely he could hear the Wakandan doctors in the room behind them prepping for the upcoming procedure.
Sensing Steve's gaze, Bucky looked over at him. "Hey, pal," he said, his voice low as if he was unused to using it.
Steve gave him a small smile, which was more bravado than happiness. "Hey," he said. "How're you doing?"
"I'm alright," Bucky replied, though Steve suspected it was a lie.
Steve was still getting used to this new Bucky: quiet, his thoughts hidden behind cold eyes that, if you looked close enough, hid impossible grief in their depths.
Ever since Steve had found him in Bucharest, they hadn't mentioned Alice.
In the warehouse after the disaster in Berlin, Bucky had said Your mom's name was Sarah. you used to wear newspapers in your shoes, and Steve had felt like his heart was breaking.
The memory of Alice had hovered between them since then, but there hadn't been time to bring it up, let alone reminisce.
As if sensing Steve's thoughts, Bucky cocked his head. Something like a gleam entered his eyes. "So everyone knows you're married now, huh?".
Steve's heart thudded. Amaya's article felt like a million years ago. "I… yeah, they do."
Bucky smiled then, a lopsided thing that made his face years younger. After a brief moment, the smile was snuffed out. "I'm sorry you didn't get to do it sooner, Steve."
Steve swallowed. "Do you… remember her?"
The smile returned, and Bucky reached up to scratch the back of his head. "I do," he breathed. "Alice Moser…" he shook his head, still smiling. "Troublemaker."
Steve felt his heart shatter and reform, his best friend's voice bringing back dozens of small memories: hiding in an alleyway and stifling laughter as Billy Russel and his friends itched themselves raw, Bucky in dock-worker overalls waving like a madman from the other side of a street, Bucky shaking his head as he read over a much-folded letter, baseball games and bottom-shelf whisky and Alice jumping over the campfire in Italy to throw herself into his and Bucky's arms.
Seeing Steve's welling eyes, Bucky drew in a deep breath and reached out to grip his shoulder. "I'm sorry. They… they never found her?"
It was a question, but Steve could tell from the tone of his voice that Bucky had read everything he had, too.
"No," Steve said thickly. He looked resolutely out the window. "And I tried, Buck, I really did, but… I just… I don't know what happened to her." His eyes squeezed shut.
Bucky held his shoulder for a long moment, both of them standing in silence.
But then:
"She'd be proud of you, punk."
Steve's eyes flew open, and he looked back at Bucky. Bucky was looking at Steve, but couldn't quite meet his eyes.
"She would be," Bucky went on. "My memory might be shit, but I know… I know she'd be proud of you. Everything you've done."
The emphasis on everything made Steve's throat close up. "Thank you," he eventually managed to get out. Then he added, softly: "Jerk."
Bucky's watery smile was there and gone. His eyes drifted back out to the forest. "I'm kinda glad, though, that Alice didn't have to see… all this." His jerked his chin, as if referring to their past few weeks, and Steve didn't miss how his eyes flickered down to the nub of his metal arm.
It was Steve's turn to reach out and grip Bucky's shoulder. "She'd be glad to know that you're alive, Bucky. That you have a future." He looked over his shoulder, at the plate glass wall looking into the Wakandan laboratory. A handful of scientists were checking the readings on what looked like a tall glass tube. "She wouldn't want you to do this."
"Yeah, well," Bucky sniffed. "She's not the boss of me. And neither are you," he said pointedly.
Steve nodded, his smile a little shaky.
A smooth whoosh sounded behind them as the door to the lab slid open. Steve and Bucky both looked over to see the Wakandan princess standing there, a tablet in her hands and her eyes warm.
"We're ready for you."
When Steve watched the frost creep over Bucky's face, he fought back the rising feeling of horror and loneliness. This was what Bucky needed. Princess Shuri had promised him she'd work quickly to help clear Bucky's triggers, and T'Challa had promised to keep him safe.
Steve let out a long breath and lifted his hand to his chest. There, on the end of a chain that he'd been wearing for years now, hung the ring he'd never given Alice.
I won't let him down, he promised. His heart felt raw and beaten. I'll look after him.
July 2017
A year later, Steve returned to Wakanda.
He, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda had been hunting down weapons traffickers in Southeast Asia for the last two months, and had earned themselves a few days rest. Sam and Natasha were establishing a new safehouse in Bali, Wanda had gone off who knew where, and Steve had decided to visit Wakanda.
This last year had changed him more than any other (save maybe for the year he got the super soldier serum). Cut off from any semblance of normality on the run, he had had to take account of who he was and what he stood for. He wasn't a soldier any more - you couldn't be a soldier on the run. Soldiers were a part of an army. At best he thought he could be called a rogue mercenary, at worst a terrorist. Fugitive, certainly.
To keep himself sane at night, he turned back to what Erskine had told him that night before the serum: not a soldier, but a good man.
He hoped he was still a good man.
He drove into Wakanda in a stolen truck, since Sam and Nat had the Quinjet. The blue-clad Border Tribe threatened him with their curved sabers for a while, until the order came through their Kimoyo beads to let Steve pass. He figured it had been better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
Steve stopped quickly at the royal palace first, to pay his respects. He could feel T'Challa and his family looking at him sideways, at all the ways he'd changed.
He wore civilian clothes (not the dark-tinted suit which he wore into battle these days); dark trousers and a beat-up brown leather jacket, the collar of which just brushed the end of his new beard. He'd never gone bearded before (he couldn't, before the serum), and he found it helped keep him from being recognised. In the harsh central African sun he'd also gone for sunglasses.
Sometimes, particularly wearing his old, disfigured suit, he caught glimpses of himself in the mirror and it took him aback. He'd become the man he needed to be in this new world, but sometimes he wondered… would she recognise me? Each time, as different as he looked, he knew the answer was yes. Alice had recognized him after the serum from just his voice and face, when he hadn't even realised that the skinny, grubby young man who'd arrived in his campsite was actually a woman.
None of the Wakandans commented on the changes - physical and deeper - that he'd returned with. He exchanged a few minutes of conversation with King T'Challa about the global situation and the work of the Fugitive Avengers, before T'Challa told him where he needed to go.
"I can offer you a speeder-"
"It's fine, thanks," Steve said with a ghost of a smile. "I'll walk."
He set off from the royal palace, blending as best he could in the eclectic and colorful crowds in Birnin Zana. He sensed guards watching him from a distance. The city gave way to sprawling suburbs, and then to countryside. The suspicious glances of guards turned into the curious eyes of farmers.
Long brown grass swished around Steve's ankles as he hiked the rolling hills. Birds sang in the dense forest that sprawled around him. The sun beat warm on the back of his neck, sending tension spiralling out of him. It felt safe here.
Finally Steve reached the top of another hill and looked down to see a glittering lake stretching away in the distance, and before it, a small village of huts. His eyes travelled east, and he spotted a lone hut in a grass field by a goat pen. A man squatted on the roof of the hut, hunched over. Steve's eyebrows rose.
He strode down the hill. He was pretty sure Bucky had already sensed him as soon as he crested the rise of the hill, but didn't move from his position on the roof - when Steve got close enough he could see that Bucky was repairing a hole in the thatch. Bucky wore brown trousers, muddy boots, and had a colorful fabric sling shrouding his missing arm. He looked over his shoulder as Steve approached, his long hair piled on top of his head and tied by what looked like a thin length of twine.
Finally when they were within speaking distance, Bucky hopped off the roof, lifted his single hand to shade his eyes and grinned. "They warned me you were coming."
Steve didn't bother asking how. He just strode up to his friend and reeled him in for a hug. "Sorry I couldn't come sooner, pal," he said as Bucky patted him on the back. "I didn't want to draw any attention back to Wakanda."
Bucky pulled back to look him in the face. He looked so much healthier than the last time Steve had seen him; suntanned and somehow more whole. "It's alright, I only woke up about six months ago anyway. And the quiet's been nice."
Steve looked around at the hut, the field, and the glimpse of the distant lake. "You've got a good setup here."
"Yeah," Bucky said contemplatively as he followed Steve's gaze. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Except for these little kids from the village who come and knock over all my shit. And the goats." He narrowed his eyes at the five goats ambling around inside the wooden pen. "They chewed that hole in my roof."
Steve chuckled. He hadn't done that in a while.
They chatted like old times as Bucky washed the grime off his face and began preparing lunch on a coalpit out the back of his house. The vegetable stew they set bubbling in a pot reminded Steve of the makeshift meals they'd had in the war, a mix of rations and whatever they could scrounge from their surroundings. It's no Dernier special, Bucky said, referring to their French comrade's ability to source edible mushrooms, herbs, and even bark from the forest, but it'll do.
Steve asked about Bucky's recovery, which seemed to be progressing in leaps and bounds, and Bucky asked questions about the outside world. He didn't seem surprised when Steve told him about the ongoing manhunt for the fugitive Avengers, or the various covert missions Steve and the others had undertaken.
As they settled down on woven mats on the grass with bowls of steaming stew, Steve told Bucky about the setup of the Accords Committee and how the legitimate Avengers operated these days.
Bucky listened closely, scratching his chin. He let out a sigh. "What d'you think Alice would think about all this?"
Steve swallowed his mouthful. "These days, I have no idea. It's been so long, and the world has changed so much-"
Bucky cocked his head. "I don't know. You always seemed to understand Alice pretty well. She might be long distant from all this, but I reckon… she'd definitely have something to say."
"But she wouldn't say it," Steve said. "She'd just act. She'd do something to try and fix all this: the Accords, the Avengers splitting up, the world turning on its head."
"Could be that this isn't a situation where action will fix it," Bucky mused. "Could just be time."
"We've had plenty of that," Steve said morosely. He dug into his stew again.
A few moments of silence passed. Trees rustled in the breeze, and the goats in the pen bleated.
"How are you, Steve?"
Steve looked up, eyebrows raised, to see Bucky watching him closely. His bowl was balanced on his knee and he held his fork in his hand, but his focus was entirely on Steve.
"Me? I'm fine," Steve said bemusedly.
Bucky's brow lowered. "You're allowed to not be fine, you know."
Steve hesitated, feeling very suddenly like he'd been caught in a trap.
Bucky's lips quirked up. "You don't gotta look like that, Steve. I'm just saying."
"I know," Steve sighed. "And I am doing okay, really. You know me, one foot in front of the other."
"I do know," Bucky nodded. He cocked his head. "And how are you… about Alice? For you it's been, what…"
"Five years," Steve finished for him, as he went back for another mouthful of stew. "Give or take."
"Give or take," Bucky echoed, his voice soft.
Steve sighed. "I'm alright, for the most part. Too busy these days to spend much time thinking about the past." He swallowed thickly. "But I guess… it's not something that's ever healed, you know? I still don't understand how with all the resources and time in the world, we haven't been able to figure out what happened to her. I know she's gotta be long dead, but I don't have…" his mouth opened and closed.
"Closure," Bucky finished.
Steve looked up, half-smiling. "That's a therapy word."
Bucky shrugged. "Therapy's good for ya, Steve. You oughta try it."
He chuckled. "Know any therapists doing discount rates for international fugitives?"
"Yes, actually," Bucky replied with a gleam in his eyes.
Steve laughed, a startling burst of noise which gradually subsided into silence. Bucky had always been good at this: reminding Steve that underneath it all, he was human.
Another breeze rustled through the grass, cooling the sweat on the back of Steve's neck. Bucky scraped his bowl clean with his spoon, leaving almost nothing behind. Steve watched him, reminded of how they used to eat like that back in the 30s when food was scarce. Some habits never die.
"I can hear her sometimes," Steve said into the silence.
Bucky looked up. "Alice?"
Steve nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, when I… when I sleep, sometimes. There's no words, but I can just… I can hear her voice."
"Like a siren," Bucky reflected.
Steve sighed. "Just like a siren." He shook his head. "I know I oughta try to stop it, try sleep therapy or something - you know, if I could - or take drugs to help me sleep better, but it… it…"
"It feels like you still have her with you," Bucky murmured.
Steve nodded silently.
With a furrow between his brows, Bucky leaned across and set his hand on Steve's shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. "You're going to be alright, Steve. I promise."
And even though everything was broken, Steve thought maybe there is a future here.
May 2018
A year later, when Steve watched Bucky crumble away into nothing before his very eyes, his heart stopped in his chest. He felt himself breathe in. Breathe out.
And then his gaze lifted to see others fading away, ash on the wind. And he knew that the future was over.
He had failed it.
"I used the stones to destroy the stones," hissed Thanos days later, half-charred as he lay on the floor of his hut on a far-off planet. Steve, standing furthest from the titan, felt hope shrivel and die within him. "It nearly killed me. But the work is done. It always will be." Thanos rose, almost smiling. "I am inevitable."
Seconds later Thor roared and cleaved Thanos's head from his shoulders.
Steve felt nothing.
They returned to earth in silence.
Bruce didn't walk inside the Facility after the rest of them. The others were moving on autopilot, their feet dragging and their faces blank. But Bruce stood, and stared.
Steve waited with him.
Finally, Bruce reached out to set a shaking hand on Steve's shoulder, like an old man seeking support, and met his gaze with warm, heartbroken eyes.
I can't be here, Bruce said hoarsely. I can't… I don't… I don't know who I am anymore.
Steve didn't know if Bruce was asking permission, or apologizing.
It's okay, was all he said in reply.
At Natasha's request, Steve tried calling Clint again. He hadn't been answering their calls since the Decimation, but they knew that he hadn't become one of the vanished. They had highway patrol footage of him doing a hundred miles an hour driving away from his country home an hour after the Decimation.
Steve's call went straight to voicemail.
He doesn't want to talk to us, Steve said.
Thor and Steve ran into each other at the door.
I'm going to find the Asgardians, Thor said.
Are there any left?
Some. Some are survivors from Tha- the attack. Others left Asgard long ago. They are scattered across the universe, and not all will want to come to Earth, but we need… Thor's voice broke. We need each other.
Steve didn't say good luck.
Natasha came to him with a fire in her eyes, and told him she was going to keep fighting to protect everyone who was left. It's the only thing we can do, she urged.
I'm sorry, Steve told her.
And he left.
Steve and Tony didn't talk.
Five Years Later
Steve had made a life for himself after tragedies before. And after the Decimation, he wasn't the only one forced to eat, sleep, breathe and live on, in the absence of half a universe. So he put one foot in front of the other.
From an outside perspective, he might even appear well-adjusted. He got himself an apartment in Brooklyn and got to work - first cleaning up the damage from the day of the Decimation, and then helping other people put their lives back together. He stayed clean shaven, made sure to shower each morning and dress presentably.
But under the surface, he felt… well, he felt like everything meaningful inside him had crumbled to ash and blown away in the breeze.
Grief didn't feel like anything else: it could be a smothering weight, a gaping vacuum, a thick burning bind around the chest. And yet it felt like everything else: fury and tragedy and love fused into one.
Sometimes Steve sat alone in his apartment, in the hours when he didn't have the energy to distract himself, and suffocated under the pressing weight of it all.
Mostly it was anger. Selfish anger that everything he loved was inevitably torn away from him, anger at the loneliness, and a towering inferno of anger that he'd failed. He'd failed Alice, failed Bucky, failed Tony, failed Vision and Wanda and Sam and T'Challa and Strange and everyone. In the grand scheme of things, most human failures meant nothing - mere drops in an ocean. Trust Steve to make the one failure which changed the shape of the universe.
As the world slowly began to attempt to put itself back together, Steve found himself grieving Alice all the more potently. It was as if the massive amount of grief had compounded and sharpened, making old hurts more painful. He finally understood what Bucky had said, back in Wakanda: I'm glad that Alice didn't have to see this.
Outwardly well-adjusted, Steve started community therapy sessions. When he first set the chairs in a circle in the disused community hall he swore he felt, for just a moment, Sam's reassuring presence.
The people who came broke his heart. They told him how they put one foot in front of another.
"And that's it," he told them one cold October morning. "That's those little brave baby steps we've gotta take. To try and become whole again, try and find purpose."
He glanced down, his arms crossed. "I went in the ice in '45 right after I married the love of my life." He tried to turn the grimace on his face into a smile. The others nodded, listening. He'd told them about Alice before. "Woke up seventy years later." He lifted one shoulder in an aborted shrug, looking around at them all. "You gotta move on." His jaw clenched.
He looked across the circle, meeting the eyes of one of the participants, but after a moment he had to drop his gaze. He looked down again, feeling his face fall. "You've got to move on."
Steve swallowed and drew in a breath. You're the leader here, he reminded himself. There's a time and place for falling apart, and right now… these people need hope. He held up a hand, mustering courage. "The world is in our hands," he said with a small smile. "It's left to us, guys. We gotta do something with it. Otherwise…" he shrugged again, feeling his gut clench. "Thanos should've killed all of us."
When he arrived back at the Facility to see Natasha sitting alone, her folded hands pressed to her face as she fought back tears, Steve hesitated. He'd never seen Natasha cry before.
"You know, I'd offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already," he said, keeping his voice low and light.
Her entire demeanour instantly shifted - she dropped her hands and her expression became one of calm repose, not devastation. He had to admire her for it.
She looked over, eyebrow arched. "Are you here to do your laundry?"
He leaned against the bookshelf. "And to see a friend."
She let out a measured breath and looked up at the ceiling. "Clearly, your friend is fine."
Steve looked down. He'd known Natasha for years now, but the Decimation had changed everyone. He wasn't sure what she needed. "You know, I saw a pod of whales when I was coming over the bridge."
"In the Hudson?"
"There's fewer ships, cleaner water…"
Natasha broke eye contact and looked away again, eyes gleaming. "If you're about to tell me to look on the bright side, um…" she looked back. "I'm about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich."
"Hm," Steve smiled. "Sorry. Force of habit." He strode into the room, dropping down into the seat across from her. She slid her sandwich across the table to him. Steve folded his arms. The therapy session was still on his mind. His words seemed to be doing his participants good, but no matter what, Steve never managed to convince himself.
He felt Natasha watching him, and looked up to meet her eyes. "You know, I keep telling everybody they should move on, and… grow." She stared back at him flatly. "Some do." He shook his head. "But not us."
"If I move on, who does this?" she said softly.
"Maybe it doesn't need to be done." Steve had had to step back from being a soldier for once, for his own sanity.
Natasha's eyes welled, and yet she smiled. "I used to have nothing. And then I got this. This job…" something stirred in her eyes. "This family." Steve watched a tear track down her cheek. "And I was… I was better because of it." Her jaw worked as she got out the words, as if they were causing her pain. "And even though they're gone…" She let out a huff of a laugh. "I'm still trying to be better."
Steve held her gaze for a moment, feeling her pain shiver in the air around him. He met her small, sad smile. "I think we both need to get a life."
She smiled, cheeks shining, and finally met him with that knowing, enigmatic gaze. "You first."
Hope, when it came in the form of Scott Lang at the front door, felt like a serrated blade on old wounds. But Steve instantly knew he had to press into the pain of hope, to allow himself to imagine something different.
Like Natasha had said: If I move on, who does this?
After days of convincing, gathering, planning, building, reunions, and heartache, it all came down to a collection of previously-scattered humans and aliens in a lounge room in the Avengers Facility. And they were looking to Steve. He rose to his feet and drew in a steadying breath.
"Six stones. Three teams. One shot."
Sam had once asked Steve if he came up with his speeches off the top of his head, or if he planned it out beforehand. As Steve walked with his teammates and friends - family - onto the Quantum Bridge in the pale light of sunrise, he instinctively knew what he would say. He'd had these words inside him for five long years.
When they were ready, they gathered in a circle on the bridge and put their fists together. Steve made sure he looked every single one of them in the eye before he spoke.
"Five years ago we lost," he began. "All of us. We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today we have a chance to take it all back." He tried to steady his pounding heart. "You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back." He looked around at them all. "One round trip each. No mistakes, no do-overs."
He saw nerves and something much larger than hope in each face he looked into. "Most of us are going somewhere we know, but that doesn't mean that you should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other."
He drew in a breath. "This is the fight of our lives. And we're going to win." Tony looked across at him at that, and Steve met his eyes. "Whatever it takes." He nodded. "Good luck."
Their mission back in time was a mad rush of subterfuge, stalking their old selves (Steve had to admit he felt bad beating up his old self, since he knew exactly what that poor kid was dealing with), elusive stones, and mistakes. After the fumble in 2012 New York Steve and Tony rapidly worked out a backup plan in 1970.
They snuck into the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters at Camp Lehigh. On his way through the bustling main work space to find Dr Pym's laboratory, Steve glanced around to find his eye caught by the far wall: a burnished metal sign adorned with black logos. The Wall of Valor. He didn't stop moving, but he scanned the SSR logos on the top left. Dr Abraham Erskine. Sgt. James "Bucky" Barnes. Captain Steve Rogers. And to the right of his name was an SSR logo that… didn't have a name under it. Steve's stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Alice's files hadn't been declassified yet in 1970. The world knew her only as a Nazi, even twenty five years after her disappearance.
And yet she was still here, in the form of an unnamed SSR logo by Steve's side.
Even here and now, you're gone.
Steve shook his head. Focus. He was fighting now to bring everyone back. But some people couldn't be saved.
He frowned at the thought.
They returned to the Quantum Bridge, and the world changed.
Natasha was gone. But they'd done it - retrieved all six stones, and created an Infinity Gauntlet of their own.
Bruce groaned under the power of the Infinity Stones. "Everybody comes home." He snapped his fingers.
And then the world imploded.
Steve lay on a burning battlefield, bleeding into the dirt.
His body, normally so impervious, was lit up with pain like a lightning rod: the explosion, the fight, it was all too much. His shield lay shattered beside him. Tony was down - beaten into the earth by Thanos. Thor, too. The others were gone, probably crushed under the wreckage.
The sky was thick with choking black smoke. The only light came from the flames flickering around him.
Groaning, teeth clenched, Steve rolled over onto his front, using the shattered half of his shield to prop his arm.
Thanos's cold voice rolled across the ruins. "In all my years of conquest, violence… slaughter... it was never personal."
Steve fought for breath, the very effort of straining to keep his head off the ground like molten metal sluicing down his spine. He managed to tilt his head to look at Thanos's impassive face.
"But I'll tell you now," said the titan, "what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet…" he turned dark, flat eyes on Steve. "I'm going to enjoy it. Very, very much."
Blue light bloomed to life in the distance behind Thanos and for a moment Steve thought, wildly: Thor. But then the light resolved, revealing figures standing on the barren rock, and Steve's arm shook and crumpled beneath him.
Thanos had brought an army - had brought armies. The sheer mass of them made it seem as if the landscape was moving: soldiers and warships and spaceships and strange, multi-limbed creatures with flashing teeth. They strode forward toward their commander with weapons aloft. Dropships came down to earth, making the ground rumble, and Leviathans with glinting armor curled out of the sky around them. Steve felt the percussion of thousands of footsteps thudding through the ground beneath him.
Steve looked down. He lay on the ground, helpless and groaning, his limbs shaking and his heart a sluggish, defeated thump in his chest.
This isn't who I am.
Steve had had to confront all the dark and complicated parts of himself over the years. He'd faced his dishonesty, his selfishness, his pride. He knew he'd gone through changes throughout the tangled, painful mess of his life, but he knew this wasn't him. This wasn't the Avenger he was. This wasn't the man Bucky fought beside, the man Alice loved.
Steve drew in a sharp breath and pulled his knees under him, gritting out a cry.
As if he'd conjured her, he could feel Alice; her touch against his skin, her warm voice in his mind. Even as he stared down at the black, broken rock he saw a night from decades ago: Alice haloed by the orange light of Matthias's tailor shop, her fingers bloody, ripping adhesive tape with her teeth before using it to patch a gash in his injured face.
Well if nothing else, you're persistent, the ghost of her voice said. Anyone else would have given up on fighting back by now.
Steve rose to a kneel.
Can't do that- he remembered saying.
I know, I know, Alice had soothed as she swabbed a wound. And she'd imitated him perfectly: 'Start running, you'll never stop.'
Steve pushed up, staggering to his feet, closing his eyes against the pain - but he was standing.
He remembered looking back on that moment in the tailor shop time and time again; Alice's face over his, startling him with her earnestness and that slight hint of danger she hid in her eyes. I'm not running either, Steve.
Steve stood, facing down Thanos and the largest army he'd ever seen, alone, with a broken shield on his arm.
He strode forward. I'm not running.
When the golden portals opened across the battlefield and life poured through, Steve had to close his eyes for a moment to cope with the rush of relief and rightness he felt. He didn't have to move on. He didn't have to die alone.
They came back.
He opened his eyes to see Bucky looking back at him. Bucky nodded, and Steve felt something settling back into place in his chest. Hundreds of people - Avengers - marched forward to stand beside Steve.
"Avengers!" he called, his voice stronger than it had been in years. He narrowed his eyes at the army across the field, at Thanos with his shining blade. "Assemble."
They surged forward as one, roaring, and Steve threw himself into the fight of his life.
Thanos and his armies faded away into nothing.
When the smoke over the destroyed compound cleared, and they all began to heal, they had to decide what to do with the Stones.
Tony wasn't going to get out of hospital for a while, what with his charred arm and the fact he'd come closer to death than any of them, but he kept sending Steve messages with all sorts of opinions about the Stones. Steve just kept replying 'get well soon', to annoy him.
Natasha offered immediately to return the Stones - she'd had her own space adventure already, after appearing whole again on Vormir when the timelines shifted. Steve suspected that she was feeling a little smothered by Clint, who had welcomed her back to earth with a lot of tears, yelling, and comfort.
As the world rejoiced and began to grapple with the enormity of having everyone they'd lost suddenly returned to them, the Avengers rejoiced in their own way, and figured out how to put the Stones to rest. Pretty much everyone volunteered to be the one to step back in time to return them all to their places.
But Steve knew it had to be him.
There were only a few people there on the day Steve set off to return the Stones. Most of the others were with their families, or working to manage the uproar and confusion following the return of the Decimated. Problems had cropped up all over the universe. Surprisingly, not everyone was happy that Thanos had been defeated.
Steve was happy, for now, to leave all that to the others.
So one pale morning, Steve arrived at the forest just beyond the ruins of the Avengers Facility, where Bruce had been building the newest Quantum Bridge (with Tony collaborating remotely from his hospital room). Bruce was there to control the Bridge, and Sam, Bucky, and Natasha had come to see Steve off.
This time Steve wore a new uniform. Tony had actually made it for him a few weeks ago, before they'd realized he needed to wear his old 2012 uniform to make the time heist work. This uniform was dark, like his uniform when he'd been on the run, but with a suggestion of the original design: the stars and stripes were still there, understated.
He listened carefully as Bruce handed him the updated Time-GPS and explained the relevant science and timing behind the new Quantum Bridge. The forest was quiet, just breeze rustling through the branches and distantly-calling birds. Just a few hundred yards away crews were still picking over the remains of the destroyed facility, salvaging equipment and technology. Tony had already had his robots dredged out of the wreckage.
"Remember," Bruce said seriously, "You have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them, or you're going to open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities." He looked down at the eerily glowing Stones in the briefcase.
"Don't worry, Bruce," Steve said as he reached out to close the case. He nodded to himself. "Clip all the branches."
Standing on Bruce's other side, Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. "You sure you don't need a hand?" she asked wryly.
"I'm sure," Steve said, meeting her smile. "I'll be alright without a babysitter."
With the briefcase in his hand, Steve turned and strode toward the Quantum Bridge. This one looked a little more home-made, stripped back to the bare metal basics and hooked up to a set of thick power cables which stretched back to the forest before hooking into the grid. It was surrounded by prefabricated buildings and tents, in which the components had been made.
Sam fell into step beside Steve. "You know, if you want, I can come with you."
Steve smiled and stopped to face him. "You're a good man, Sam. This one's on me, though."
Sam nodded. Steve looked up and saw Bucky waiting beside the steps up to the Bridge, his hands in his pockets and a look of concern in his eyes. Bucky had been accepted into the fold of Avengers after the battle, and he and Tony seemed to have reconciled.
Steve flashed Bucky a smile. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."
"How can I?" Bucky replied wryly. "You're taking all the stupid with you."
Chuckling, they leaned in to grip each other in a hug. Steve held him tight.
As they released each other, Bucky murmured: "Gonna miss you, buddy." As if he thought Steve might not come back.
"It's gonna be okay, Buck," Steve promised. With a lopsided smile Bucky stepped back to stand beside Sam. Natasha and Bruce watched from the control panel.
Steve drew in a breath and climbed up to the Quantum Bridge. It began powering up as Bruce initiated the startup sequence from the control panel, the complicated engines humming to life.
He'd been thinking about this moment ever since Thanos's armies faded away on the battlefield. He had timelines and realities swirling through his head, a case full of the most powerful Stones in the universe, Mjolnir sitting by his feet, and his friends watching him.
On the Bridge, he hit the Time-GPS on his wrist and felt the white and red Quantum Suit ripple out on top of his uniform.
"How long is this gonna take?" he heard Sam ask Bruce.
"For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds."
Steve reached down, gripped Mjolnir around the handle and lifted it. He felt sparks crackle up his arm.
"Ready, Cap?" Bruce called. Steve nodded. "Alright. No detours or diversions, we'll meet you back here, okay?"
"You bet," Steve said evenly. He felt Natasha eyeing him like a hawk, and Bucky watching with a knowing look on his face. His helmet closed over his face.
Bruce's large fingers danced over the control panel. "Going quantum. Three, two, one…"
And Steve was gone.
What was only seconds for those waiting around the Quantum Bridge was the adventure of a lifetime for Steve. He travelled across the universe through the Quantum Realm, returning the Infinity Stones to the moments they'd been stolen from, and closing off all the alternative realities.
At the end of it all, he disobeyed his instructions. He'd just returned the Tesseract - it had been a bloody pain trying to sort out the tangled timelines caused by Loki - and picked up a new unpainted Vibranium shield from Wakanda. That was against protocol.
But his biggest transgression was yet to come.
Steve set a date, and a place, that he knew he definitely wasn't supposed to go to.
January, 1945
Berlin
Steve entered the function building dressed as a socialite, in a sleek dark suit and shiny shoes. He had a slightly-mismatching satchel bag on his shoulder, hiding his shield and Mjolnir. He managed to squeeze in through a bottleneck of similarly-dressed people at the door, using the hubbub to avoid the ticket collectors. The building had become a social hub for the evening, dinners and parties and performances on several floors to allow the German elite to party the night away.
Once he'd slipped into the foyer, Steve looked around. Six chandeliers lit up the space with a rich, golden light, and the air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses. Rich furnishings adorned the whole area. Scents of cigarette smoke and perfume filled Steve's nose.
Steve's heart pounded. This wasn't like anything he'd experienced in the war - not even on his USO tour. This was the highest strata of Nazi Germany, pretending that the war didn't exist.
Steve kept his face downturned as he moved through the foyer, his eyes darting. He doubted his face would be recognised, but you never knew...
The Time-GPS on his wrist beeped lowly and he quickly silenced it. It had been making noise for a while now - it thought he was lost, and was trying to pull him back to the Quantum Bridge. He'd have to go soon or risk the GPS taking over.
As he moved through to the grand set of stairs, he overheard a snatch of German conversation spoken slowly enough for him to understand:
"The performance is scheduled to end in a few minutes, hopefully then we can go into the dinner hall."
Steve swallowed thickly and hurried up the stairs. At the top he wavered, turned left down a carpeted corridor, and began searching. He weaved through corridors with walls of mahogany and went up and down marble stairs, trying to figure out the German around him. The tips of his fingers tingled.
Finally, he found a door marked NUR PERSONAL [EMPLOYEES ONLY], and tentatively pushed it open.
Song washed out from the open door.
Steve almost fell to his knees in the doorway. The voice rolling out of the space beyond was rich, haunting, powerful in its emotion and enticing in its melody. Most of all: the voice was more familiar to Steve than anything else in this strange place.
He moved forward, as if wading through a dream, until he navigated the darkened staff passageway and found a balcony looking down into the performance theatre.
Alice.
Tears pressed against Steve's eyes the second he saw her. Alice stood alone in centre stage, wearing the sweeping white dress that he'd seen in photographs but never in person. He was a couple floors above her, right in the rafters, but he could still make out the details of her face: dark-painted lips curved in a smile, those green eyes roving over her audience before they closed at the peak of a note.
Alice wrapped her fingers around the microphone stand and smiled down at her audience, as if she had a secret.
Steve had never seen the Siren perform. But here she was.
Alice was alive. Breathing.
After several heartstopping seconds Steve's blurry vision shifted, taking in the entire theatre. Alice held the hundreds of people in her glittering audience spellbound. Some of them had been brought to tears.
Steve's hands flexed on the balcony edge. He wanted to leap down and - and - his fingers loosened. He knew enough to know that if he jumped down now in full view of everyone, he would start a whole new alternative reality, with potential world-ending consequences. He needed to wait.
Steve stood frozen for the rest of the performance, his hands on the balcony edge and his whole body buzzing. He barely breathed.
He'd forgotten how beautiful Alice sounded when she sang. He'd forgotten… so much. The way she moved; slow and sure, deliberate in every action. The unreadable facade she kept up even when pouring out her soul in song. His eyes traced the shape of her face, the fall of her pale hair - she turned slightly, and his heart leaped when he realised she had a hairpin tucked into the crown of her hair. That's the present I gave her for Christmas. Just weeks ago for her. Years ago for me.
Alice's voice rippled, lilted, and then faded. Steve didn't even realize that the audience had begun applauding until those below him got to his feet in a standing ovation. The sounds of applause and cheering rolled over him.
The curtain fell, obscuring Alice.
Steve blinked. Hurry now. That was the last time that Alice had ever been officially seen in public. He glanced around, the murmur of the rousing audience below buzzing in his ears, and then took off running. He navigated the staff passageways, pausing every now and then to orient himself. Finally he reached the backstage area.
But it was busy as hell down here: backstage staff milled around carrying microphone stands and cleaning equipment, musicians clumped in groups, putting away their instruments, and producers and organisers shouted instructions over the rush. A few people looked at Steve askance - in his fine clothes, he definitely wasn't meant to be backstage.
He couldn't see Alice's white dress anywhere.
Thinking fast, he pulled aside a black-clad stage attendant. "Ich soll der Sirene eine Nachricht vom Propagandaministerium überbringen," [I am meant to deliver a message to the Siren from the Propaganda Department] he said, hoping the attendant didn't notice the way he stumbled over the words. "Wo ist ihre Garderobe?" [Where is her dressing room?]
The frazzled-looking attendant reeled off a set of directions, barely glancing at Steve, before rushing away. Steve walked as fast as he dared for the stairs.
The building was a maze. Trying to translate and remember the instructions the attendant had given him, Steve felt the anxiety that had been rising in him ever since the curtain fell making his forehead and palms sweat. Okay… seventh floor, east wing… his shoes squeaked on the floor as he practically jogged toward Alice's dressing room.
Finally he saw a potted plant the attendant had told him to look out for and his heart leaped. He turned right at the end of the corridor and stopped in his tracks.
He'd found Alice's dressing room. He could see the sign over the door which read Die Sirene. But the door was open, and the corridor was absolutely packed with Gestapo officers.
They buzzed in and out of the dressing room like agitated hornets, and Steve's eyes tracked to the far end of the corridor, where a crumpled Gestapo officer lay in a pool of blood, his colleagues trying to rouse him. The black uniforms seemed stark in the richly furnished corridor, and the fallen man's scarlet blood shone dully.
"Wo ist sie?" [Where is she?] screamed a man who'd just stormed out of the dressing room - he wore the uniform and insignia of a commanding officer, and his face was red with rage. "Findet sie oder ihr werdet alle an die Front geschickt!" [Find her or you'll all be shipped to the front!]
Having seen enough, Steve wheeled around and broke into a run. His skin crackled like lightning, even though Mjolnir was still in his bag, and his stomach churned. They're after her. They ordered her capture, and she got away. His mind reeled: this was more information than he'd had since waking up in the future. But these details weren't long-past details in a cold case.
Somewhere in this building, Alice was on the run.
Where would you go? Steve wondered even as he ran, his eyes darting. They must've almost caught her, if that crumpled Gestapo officer was any indication. He felt a burst of sudden pride - he'd always known that behind Alice's placid and pleasant facade, she hid teeth.
He thought of downstairs; no way out for Alice through there, she'd get stopped before making the lobby. He racked his brain. Alice goes missing tonight. Maybe they were going to catch her somewhere - they must. But how far would she get? He needed to find her before they spirited her away to some hidden prison. He needed to chase the chasers.
He heard shouting to his left and almost put a tear in the carpet with how quickly he turned. A quick dash down a warmly-lit corridor brought him out into a slightly larger passageway, with a handful of Gestapo officers crowded at the end of it. Steve stared as an older officer dragged himself along the floor to his colleagues, covered in blood. His eyes were white and wild.
"Sie…" he coughed, his voice sounding ragged. "Sie ist auf Dach," [She's going to the roof]. The man's arms shook and he collapsed into the carpet.
Steve felt electricity zing through him. He sprinted down the corridor, dodging past the Gestapo and ignoring their shouts, burst through the far door into the stairwell - almost treading on another Gestapo officer lying crumpled and bloody, his eyes lifeless - and tore upwards. A few seconds later he heard the door bang open again below him and the shouts of the pursuing officers echoed up to him.
He sprinted up the stairs, taking them four at a time, his heart pounding in his throat. He finally reached the door at the top and pushed it - only for it to resist the press of his hand. Locked? He stepped back and then surged forward, slamming his shoulder to the edge of the door and sending it bursting open with a shattering sound. Steve spilled through onto the rooftop, glancing down at the fragments of a stiletto knife skittering across the concrete. Bloodstains dripped away across the roof.
When Steve looked up he caught a glimpse of the golden lights of the city stretching for miles around, the grey expanse of the roof, and-
A glimpse of a flickering white dress.
Steve realized what he was seeing instantly: Alice, running full pelt toward the edge of the roof a hundred feet away, her pale hair streaming behind her.
Steve opened his mouth, arm outstretched - "Alice!"
But in the same moment Alice set her foot on the stone barrier and leaped into the darkness.
Steve's heart seemed to slam to a halt in his chest.
He lurched forward, almost tripping over himself as he felt bile rise in his throat. He skidded to a halt at edge of the roof and looked down.
Nothing. Not even a ripple in the river below.
Steve cast his gaze around desperately, scanning the buildings across the river and the sliver of sidewalk below. Darkness and the glints of light reflecting off windows looked back. There was no sign of Alice's stark white dress or her pale hair, not a shiver of movement. No sound.
Steve paced, still staring. He'd just seen her, how could she vanish into thin air?
He heard footsteps from the stairwell. Steve's heart pounded from the chase, and his mind churned. He didn't understand.
Moments before the Gestapo thundered up the stairs onto the rooftop, Steve disappeared down another exit.
Steve searched for hours. As the Gestapo ran wild on the rooftop and throughout the building, Steve hunted in the shadows. He first went down to the river, examining its depth and looking for signs of a disturbance on either side. He checked the sidewalk, and the alleyways around the performance building, then scoped out the buildings on the other side of the river. They were perfectly undisturbed.
Finally he returned to the rooftop. The Gestapo had reconvened in Alice's dressing room (Steve had eavesdropped for a while, but they definitely hadn't found her. They'd been talking about Otto's body, and what they should do now. Steve suspected that they were already hatching a plan to cover the whole thing up). Steve reemerged onto the dark stillness of the rooftop and rechecked the area where Alice had jumped.
The shards of Alice's stiletto knife (a Christmas gift from Bucky, Steve recalled numbly) that she'd used to jam the doorway had been removed. Now that Steve looked closer, he could see bloody footprints leading from the stairwell, growing fainter and fainter until they reached the edge of the roof. There was a small smudge of blood where Alice had set her foot on the stone barrier to leap off.
Steve reached out to the smudge, laid his hand on it. He pulled his hand away to see Alice's scarlet blood on his skin. You were here, he thought as he looked at it. I saw you.
His breath left his chest in a fog of condensation in the cooling night air.
He cast another glance over the scene beyond the rooftop: the dark river, the surrounding buildings. He saw a rooftop on the other side, slightly lower than the rest. She'd been aiming for it. But Steve had searched that entire building, and the streets around it. There'd been no sign of Alice - no bloodstains like up here. And I would have seen her there. I would have.
The Time-GPS on Steve's wrist beeped again, insistently.
Steve took a stumbling step back, and a glint near the roof edge caught his eye. He reached down, frowning, to see a small hairpin resting in the shadow of the low stone barrier. The hairpin was sharp and glittering, adorned with blue and black jewels.
Steve's eyes squeezed shut as he picked up the hairpin.
I gave this to you for Christmas just a few weeks ago - a hundred years ago. It had fallen from her hair as she jumped.
You lost it.
His eyes opened, taking in the softly glowing city of Berlin and the endless universe of stars stretching above him. His fist closed around the hairpin.
I lost you.
Bucky stood with his hands in his pockets and his jaw clenched. Bruce and Sam were arguing: Steve hadn't come back in the exact second he was supposed to.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know, something's gone wrong with the timestamp," Bruce said in a tight voice, hitting buttons and checking his screen. Natasha looked over his shoulder, frowning. "He should be here."
Bucky watched the empty bridge. He hadn't been 100% sure of Steve's plan, but what…
"Well get him back!" Sam urged.
"I'm trying-"
"Get him the hell back!"
"He said he's trying," Natasha snapped.
With a flash of light and a noise like a whining engine, a white and red clad figure suddenly appeared on the Quantum Bridge. Steve.
Bucky let out the breath he'd been holding. But then he realized - Steve had been standing tall when he left, but had returned on his knees, his head bowed.
Sam and Natasha shouted in alarm and started toward the Bridge.
Bucky got there first. He vaulted onto the platform and skidded to his knees beside his friend. "Steve!" He hit the button to retract Steve's helmet and then grabbed his shoulders. Steve's eyes were open, but his cheeks were wet. Bucky's stomach dropped.
"What happened?" called Sam as he thundered up the stairs to the Bridge. "Did you get all the Stones back?"
Steve nodded numbly, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Bucky cast his eyes over his friend. "You went to find her, didn't you."
Steve looked up at that, his eyes red. "I couldn't… I couldn't…" his Quantum suit retracted, leaving him in a strange dark suit, and Steve unfolded his fist to reveal a glittering pin resting on his bloody palm.
Bucky looked down at the jewelled hair pin for a long moment, his jaw clenched.
Sam and Natasha fell still as they looked at Steve and Bucky kneeling together on the Quantum Bridge, staring at a single bloody hairpin. A breeze drifted over them, warm and scented by the green pines of the forest.
Bucky's eyes burned.
Steve drew in a shaking breath. "I couldn't find her," he said hoarsely. "I looked - for so long. I don't… she was there, and then she wasn't. I don't know what happened."
Bucky nodded once, to show that he'd heard, then closed his eyes. It was the only way to keep back the tears.
Life went on.
They dismantled the Quantum Bridge, and everyone went back to the job of putting the world back together. Natasha helped Thor, the Guardians, and Wakanda with figuring out how to put out the fires that the end of the Decimation had started.
Bruce decided to stay with Tony and his family for a while, both of them commiserating over their damaged arms and the lingering dreams of holding the all the power of the universe in a snap of their fingers.
Steve retired.
He'd told every detail of his sojourn in the past to Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Bruce, and none of them could explain how Alice could have disappeared. Steve began to doubt his own eyes and memory; maybe he had missed her in his distraught searching after she'd jumped. Perhaps she'd made it to the rooftop on the other side and escaped into the night. Perhaps the Gestapo had caught her in the end.
Steve doubted, and questioned himself, but he still knew: when he'd looked over the edge of that rooftop, Alice was gone.
He drove himself near mad with the closeness and confusion of it. He spent days holed up in his apartment in Brooklyn, his hands in his hair and his eyes open and unseeing as he replayed those scenes in Berlin over and over again, searching for whatever he'd missed.
In the end it was Bucky, Sam, and Natasha that brought him out of it. They collected him from his house and brought him outside into the world, where people still rejoiced and cried and embraced each other in the streets. The sun shone down and warmed Steve's face.
They each bought him a drink and listened to him talk. They didn't say anything in particular, but they brought Steve out of the endless cycle of thoughts and doubts.
When they finished their drinks, Steve set down his glass and announced his retirement. They nodded, as if they'd been expecting it.
Steve gave the shield to Sam, making Bucky smile. He kept Mjolnir, since Thor had entrusted it to him, but he resolved to shove it under his bed and leave it alone.
So Steve went into retirement. Sam and Bucky continued in his stead, pushing back against the dangers that threatened the world.
Steve went home, and set about living. He put one foot in front of the other. He went to the park and drew, he watched movies, he thought about getting a dog. He caught up with Amaya, and also with Alice Johnson and Jilí, who'd both vanished in the Decimation. He didn't tell them what he'd seen in Berlin. He couldn't bring himself to keep relating how he had been just a hundred feet from Alice, and let her slip through his fingers.
Just as he had when he first arrived in the future, Steve felt aimless. But Alice… Alice would have wanted him to live. So he tried his best.
New York Times front page headline:
MUSICIAN AND SONGWRITER HALE HOLLOWAY VANISHES ON CAMERA IN NEW ORLEANS
EXPERTS QUESTION A 'SECOND COMING' OF THE DECIMATION
A month after he went into retirement, Steve decided to pay a visit to Natasha's new offices in New York. She'd set herself up in the Upper East Side in a former business complex with an operations room, training hangar, residential area and a lab, with a dozen staff. She wasn't calling her work 'Avenger work', but she kept in close collaboration with Wakanda, the remaining active Avengers, and their friends offworld. Natasha monitored threats and handled all the things the Avengers used to: the things too dangerous and strange for police and armies.
She greeted him in the lobby in a sharp dark suit, her hair (almost completely red now) in a complicated updo. "Hey, stranger," she called softly.
"Nat," he smiled, and they pulled each other into a tight hug.
When she pulled back, Nat chuckled under her breath. "I see you've grown the scruff back."
Steve touched his beard self consciously. It had grown out since his journey to the past, almost by accident, though he was making sure to keep it better groomed than when he'd been on the run. "Yeah," he said with a small smile. "And I really appreciate you calling it that."
Nat shot him an appraising look. "It looks good." Then she jerked her head. "Come on, I haven't got all day."
Natasha's unnamed organisation had a pretty good setup. Steve smiled to himself as she showed him around her top-of-the-line equipment and facilities, introduced him to her staff (made up of former SHIELD and Avengers staff), and chatted about the various Avengers who'd already visited.
Sam and Bucky had gone legit, working for the government, but they'd told Natasha they could be ready at a moment's notice if she had anything for them. Natasha told Steve, smirking, that Doctor Strange was one of her 'consultants' and that most visitors from New Asgard visited her facility first, before heading to the embassy that had been set up in Manhattan.
"You've got a good thing going here, Nat," Steve acknowledged as she showed him into the operations room, which was packed with holographic screens and computer consoles. It was reminiscent of the old one at the Avengers Facility, but this one had more of a 'cool office' vibe than the sleek Stark Industries aesthetic. There was a neon green bean bag in the corner. "Has it been busy?"
"Definitely," Natasha said with a wry smile. "Surprisingly, saving the world again has not put a stop to interdimensional crime. Clint's been bugging me to go visit the farm, but there's always something new. I've carved out a space to visit them next weekend, if we can get this sorted out by then." She nodded towards the largest screen at the head of the room, beneath which two analysts were hunched over their computers. Steve eyed the screen. It bore a headshot of a man, along with a map and a still of a CCTV video.
"I've seen that guy," Steve said. "That's… Hale Holloway? He vanished, right?"
"Exactly," Natasha said. "As much as the US Government keeps publicly announcing that it wants nothing to do with me or my organization here, they've sure been bugging me for help on this one."
Steve cast another glance over the screen. He'd heard of the folk singer's disappearance when it happened a few days ago, and had followed the furor over it in the days since. He hadn't seen the CCTV footage in question, but he'd heard that Holloway had apparently vanished in the blink of an eye on camera. Everyone was terrified it meant a second Decimation, though seemingly no one else had gone missing.
"Any ideas?" Steve asked as he eyed the man's face. Holloway was in his mid 50s, with rugged features and long hair.
"Ruling out spontaneous combustion…?" Natasha murmured with a sigh. "None. Thor's back on world for a visit so I called him in to see what he thought, since this looks… not of earthly origin. He should be here in a minute or two."
Steve shot Natasha a look. She'd been trying to get him to socialize more since he returned to the Quantum Bridge, and he suspected she'd invited Thor along mostly for that purpose.
"Right," he said wryly. "You need his expert advice."
She arched an eyebrow. "Of course I do. Plus, he could have useful insight on the other issues we've got going on at the moment."
"Such as…?"
"Well there's the Infinity Cult," Natasha shot back, referring to an alien group that had recently started launching attacks on Earth. Steve's understanding was that the Cult attracted those who thought the Decimation was a good thing, and encouraged them to 'put things right' now that the Decimation had been reversed. "They keep popping up, trying to kill people. We've been able to mostly stop them so far, but I'm not sure what their end goal is. They're definitely mad at us, so maybe watch your back. Tony's put his house on lockdown."
Steve arched an eyebrow. "Nat, you and I both know that the Infinity Cult is hardly a massively organised group. They fact they got it together enough to even travel to Earth is an achievement. I give you two weeks, three tops, before you put a stop to them."
"Well aren't you taking a keen interest for a supposedly retired person," she challenged, eyes glinting.
Steve rolled his eyes. Their conversation turned to the rebuilding and re-assimilating efforts in the city, which Steve had been a part of.
Nat's holographic watch lit up and she glanced down, tapped a button, and moments later the operations room doors slid open to reveal Thor.
Thor looked suntanned and happy, still on the larger side with his thick beard and long hair, but seeming much more comfortable in his own skin. He wore sunglasses, pushed up into his intricately braided hair, and an Asgardian fabric tunic with metal inlays.
"My friends!" he exclaimed, and practically jogged into the room to sweep both Steve and Nat into a hug. A few of the analysts looked over with raised eyebrows.
Steve patted Thor's back. "Hey, pal. How's space?"
"Space is… always interesting," Thor said as he pulled back, looking over them both. "And the Guardians are…" his lips quirked. "Definitely crazy."
"So you must get on well with them then," Natasha teased. "Thanks for coming."
"Any time," Thor smiled, waving her off. "So, what's this disappearance you want to ask me about?"
Natasha stepped back and nodded over at the main holoscreen. "Hale Holloway, folk singer. Happened four days ago. Have you seen the footage?"
Thor scratched his beard. "No, I was offworld until yesterday, and in New Asgard they've been having a fishing competition so they're not really focused on much else." Seeing their bemused glances, he shrugged. "Korg was in the lead when I left."
"Okay, so…" Natasha turned to make eye contact with one of her analysts. "Saida, would you play the footage?"
The dark-haired analyst nodded and leaned over to another desk to hit a couple of buttons. On the main screen, the headshot of Holloway gave way to a video clip.
As the footage of a quiet New Orleans street flickered to life before him, Steve crossed his arms and focused. This would be the first time he'd seen the footage outside of stills.
Like most CCTV footage the video wasn't smooth, running at about 15 frames per second, but they could see Holloway as he walked into shot on the sidewalk. There were a couple of other people in frame too, but they were facing the other direction. Holloway was looking down at his phone as he walked.
In the ops room, they watched in silence as Holloway made it to about midway on the screen before-
"Whoah!"
There'd been a sudden burst of light around Holloway's body, completely throwing off the camera exposure, before vanishing as abruptly as it had come. And in its wake, they saw that Holloway had also vanished.
Steve's eyebrows rose.
Natasha glanced at Thor. "Thoughts? We were thinking that it kind of looks like when we were using the Quantum Bridge to get around, so we had the theory that maybe we should look into his past to see if he's been messing with Pym tech, but-"
Thor was frowning, his eyes on the CCTV footage, which now showed an empty street. "Play it again?"
Nat paused for a moment, her eyes on Thor, before nodding and instructing Saida to replay the tape on reduced speed.
Once more they watched Holloway walk down the sidewalk, only this time in slow motion. He reached the middle of the frame again, and Steve leaned forward.
Now that it was slowed down and Steve knew what to expect, he could see that the light appeared above Holloway, seeming to tendril out and down like an unfurling snare. The footage was too grainy for Steve to really make out much more than that. It had happened all within less than a second in real time, but watching it in slow motion like this made Steve feel unsettled.
Thor's hand rose to stroke his beard, and when Steve turned to look at him he noticed a darkness in his eyes.
"You know what this is," Natasha realized, motioning for Saida to stop the tape.
Thor's eyes didn't leave the frozen burst of light on screen. "This is Bragi."
So things get a little more AU at the end of Endgame, as you can see! And as for what happens next… we'll have to wait until next week to find out!
Reviews
AceCookie: I'm so glad you've been enjoying the last few chapters of getting to know Steve and his inner thoughts, I knew it would be important to really explore his hidden depths through the MCU :) I agree, Joss Whedon is a great filmmaker but did not handle various characters very well. Hope Doc is okay!
Guest: I know, I know, I keep saying 'I can't wait to show you what happens next!' but really honestly, this time I cannot wait to show you what happens next ;) I'm glad you liked last chapter, especially the part about Steve's dream - I wanted it to focus more on him, and on the different parts of himself that have changed in the future. Have a wonderful week!
Pancakes: Steve did indeed open up a lot last chapter! Only for all of this chapter to happen haha. Hope you enjoyed!
Guest: I'm glad you liked Steve opening up last chapter, it's been a joy to explore his character this way. And I liked your take on the wood chopping scene! I did want to make it a scene more about connection than fighting, because I think Tony and Steve naturally argue, but at the heart of it they understand each other.
Pandere: Thank you so much! The last few chapters have definitely been about Steve learning to open up with his friends and with the public. Alice definitely wouldn't know what to do with the attention, lol. I'm not sure what your theory is, but did it connect with anything in this chapter? Thank you :)
CaptainLoki: Steve deserves a big old hug, if only we could give him one!
Guest: Hi, what… do you mean? I'm open to constructive criticism, but I think I might need it a little clearer haha. Hope you're enjoying!
Guest: Thanks so much for a second review! I feel very honored, thank you. And I'm also a little bit proud that I got you to cry, I consider that a mark of a good chapter ;) If this story makes your week even a little bit better, then it's worth it, and yes that's why I think a good update schedule is so important! Have fun at your cottage, and hopefully you enjoyed this chapter too :) PS: The UK is going great! I've moved into my new place and I'm loving it.
Guest: Sorry to deflate your theory in this chapter! You are definitely along the right lines, as you can see though ;) And you clearly know me and my cliffhangers too well!
Guest: Yes, Peggy did give Steve the marriage certificate! He's got it along with his letters :)
Guest: Aw thank you so much! I was looking forward to this Saturday so I could post this chapter :) Hopefully this chapter answered/inspired some questions ;)
GuestPrime: Cliffs Notes is a good way of putting it! I choose to call these last few chapters MCU: Speed Run. I'm so glad you liked the intercrossing threads in last chapter, and the culmination of the big historical surprise that has been Alice's life! Hope you enjoyed this chapter ;)