Steve spent the night poring over the files Fury had sent over. They weren't delivered until late evening, so it was a good thing Steve hadn't needed to sleep. He wanted to read everything and be ready in case the call came in for them to head out sooner than Fury thought. There were over a dozen files to look through, most with barely any useful information, but Steve committed each word to memory. He was going to plan out each mission in his head with the information he had, then adjust accordingly as more details were sent. He wasn't called "The Man with the Plan" for nothing.
He plotted out different scenarios for each mission, using the maps provided and his apartment to act out possible situations. There were always variables that popped up as you went along, but having a solid base plan was always a good idea. Steve thought about going over his ideas with the team, but wasn't sure if he should. They had all trained together a few times, even after he moved out. Tony never took it very seriously, claiming Iron Man was all he needed to be prepared. Natasha and Clint were always game to work on techniques, even though they were already highly skilled. Everyone was in agreement that Bruce didn't have to participate, since Hulk didn't really listen to anyone in the field. Would it be a good idea to meet up with everyone though? He thought he was prepared for the meeting yesterday, but he almost ruined everything within the first minute of the team being in the room. It would probably be a waste of time, since more information could change the plans anyway. He could just call out the moves in the moment.
Satisfied that he had done what he could with what he knew so far, Steve headed out for his morning run. The sun was shining now, so he let himself stay out longer than usual. Running for hours felt great. There was no one he had to think about, nothing he had to do except put one foot in front of the other. The old Steve would be winded after a few minutes, his frail, sickly body struggling to do what so many others took for granted. Not him. Steve appreciated everything his body could do now. He was going to use every gift the serum gave him. Steve should have been the first of many super soldiers, but since Dr. Erskine wasn't able to make more serum before his death, it was up to him to live up to the expectations. He had to make up for the army that never was.
What would Dr. Erskine think of Steve now, if he could see him? Would he have been proud of the sacrifice Steve made when he put the plane into the water? Would he have been mad that the one super soldier he'd been able to make sealed himself in ice for decades without even seeing the war through to the end? Erskine said he chose Steve because a weak man knew the value of strength. And that all of his traits would be amplified. Steve wasn't going to let his poorer qualities outshine his better attributes.
Before he realized it, the sun was setting around him. Steve had run for the entire day. He felt like he could keep going forever, if it weren't for his growling stomach. He reluctantly headed home, not wanting his hunger to veer off to the point of being painful. Steve made it back to his apartment just as the street lights turned on. He threw a few extra servings of his frozen dinners into the oven and hopped back in the shower.
The dial never moved from the cold end anymore. Only a few days in and the icy water felt normal to him. He imagined Tony's smug face crumpling in defeat as his pranks didn't work on him anymore. If only he had started this in the beginning, so much drama could've been avoided. Maybe that was Tony's point all along? He knew how weak Steve was and was trying to make him confront it, instead of hiding from it like he was. Tony was never doing it to be cruel, it was tough love. It was kind of like the drill sergeants in the military. They were hard on the cadets because they had to make them strong, not because they enjoyed tearing people down. So while Tony may not have gone about it the best way, he was just trying to help him, to make him better. As Steve got out of the shower and dried off, he resolved to find a time to pull Tony aside and square things away with him. Steve knew he still couldn't be friends with the team, but he didn't want Tony to think he was mad at him either.
His dinner tasted great, even though he was eating the same thing every night. It was amazing what a different mindset would do. If you came at things from a negative angle, of course it was going to seem worse than it was. Steve wasn't missing out on burgers and fries, he was lucky to have access to fresh, healthy food. A little discipline never hurt anyone, it built character. It prepared you for tougher times. He saw a lot of soldiers struggle to adjust to the lifestyle of the Army, but it was easy for Steve. He knew what it was like to have less than nothing. There was nothing more that he needed than he had right now. This life he was living was great.
Two weeks later and this life didn't feel so great anymore. He was currently sitting on his couch, staring at the wall in front of him. Fury's teams hadn't called in for the Avengers yet, but since Fury hadn't changed his mind on the plan, they were still benched. He had sent Steve more files as new information came along, but it barely took any time to read. So basically all Steve did now was train. And that was going fine at first, until this storm front rolled into the city, pelting the streets with constant rain day after day. Which wouldn't have been too bad, except there was also thunder and lightning. Which still wouldn't have been too too bad, except the gym he went to had to close for a while due to water damage from the rain. So now he sat, staring at his wall.
Steve couldn't run like he usually did in this weather. People would notice and that could lead to questions he didn't want to answer. He didn't want to find a new gym. His floor workouts were getting tedious. Staying in a plank position for an hour was mind numbingly dull. Sit ups and push ups lost their zest quite quickly. His freezer was already overflowing with food, after he spent another day cooking up a storm. He had absolutely nothing to do.
Why was he doing this again? Why had he closed himself off from everyone and everything? If someone had asked him point blank a few weeks ago, he would've had an answer. Steve wouldn't have told them the true answer, because people wouldn't understand, but he'd know it in his heart. Now though, he couldn't remember how he got to this point.
Maybe his confusion had something to do with his lack of sleep. Steve's exhaustion had gotten so bad at one point last week that he had thrown caution to the wind and spread the alarms out to go off every two hours. He could risk sleeping again, just for a little bit. It hadn't gone so well. It felt like immediately after he fell asleep he was pulled into an intense nightmare. Those weren't too uncommon for him, but now he had new ones to add to the collection. When he'd first come out of the ice, most of his recurring nightmares had been either Bucky falling from the train or his plane crashing into the water. There would be a few random ones sprinkled in too, like his mom withering away before his eyes or some of the more harrowing moments of war. Now his dreams were about losing time. He'd start off in one dream, watching himself sleep for years, all alone. Steve would try shaking his still body, attempting to wake himself up, but it never worked. He would run around Stark Tower, trying to find his teammates to tell them he was still there, but they didn't see him. He was invisible, screaming unheard words and watching them go on without him, not bothered at all by their lost captain. The dream would flash to the future, where he was finally awake, but everyone he knew was gone. Steve would be thrust back into war, fighting the faceless people around him until his commanders told him to stand down and await further instructions. And then he would come back to this same apartment. What had begun to feel like home now feeling like a prison. The alarms were the only things that saved him, pulling him out of the dreams when he couldn't on his own. He'd only let himself have that one night, repeatedly having nightmare after nightmare before he resolved to stop sleeping altogether again, setting the alarm back to thirty minute intervals and punishing himself with wall sits as dawn broke.
That's why he was sitting here now, contemplating his life choices after a week with only 5-10 minute snatches of sleep per night. Maybe he should go back to the tower with his tail between his legs, begging for a place to stay and some company. That was just his loneliness talking. The fact that he hadn't had any meaningful human interaction since the meeting with Fury and the team. He said the typical greetings at the grocery store checkstand, but that didn't really count.
Why had he done this to himself? Steve may have never been the life of the party, but he did enjoy people. Performing on stage may not have been his bread and butter, but he liked talking to the girls backstage, hearing about their lives and dreams and goals. And some of the best times of his life were spent with Bucky and his Commandos, just enjoying each other's company. He wondered what the team was doing right now. Even if they were stuck in the tower like he was stuck in his apartment, their situation was probably much more bearable. They had floors of things to do and the company of each other. Steve could've been there too, if he hadn't been so stubborn.
Maybe he could text Natasha? Suggest a training session at the tower and then just hang around for a while? He doubted Tony would have a problem with it. And Steve could justify it not being just a social call by doing some work. This was a good idea. Steve got up to grab his phone where he left it on the kitchen counter, feeling excited for the first time in days, maybe weeks. He scrolled through the contacts, stopping on Natasha's name fairly quickly. There weren't too many people saved in there, just the team and Shield.
His finger hovered over the little text icon, wondering what he would say. Was he going to seem pathetic, like he was begging for a friend? What if she didn't answer? Of course she would, Natasha wasn't rude. But what if she didn't want him to come over? She had been the one to invite him last time, but what if it was a pity invite? A token gesture she only made because she knew he wouldn't accept.
Steve set the phone back down, glaring at it. What was he doing? He kept himself apart for a reason and even if he couldn't remember what that reason was at the moment, it didn't mean he didn't have a good one when he made the decision. Why was he listening to his sleep deprived mind? He made these choices when he was perfectly fine. This was just one of those hurdles he had to get past. Like when you're running a marathon and you think you can't go any further, but you push yourself and hit your second wind and it carries you to the finish. He didn't need the team to cure his boredom. This was just a moment of weakness trying to creep through and let him go back to the flawed captain he was before. Steve stomped back to the living room without his phone, shaking his head in disgust at himself. That was a close call, but he'd persevered. There would be no backsliding for him. Steve got on the floor and started doing push ups, clearing his mind of his lonely thoughts. He was sticking to his guns because that's what was best. Once he started going out on missions again, these few hard weeks would be a distant memory. He just knew it.