Disclaimer: I do not own any content recognisable as belonging to the MCU or HDM Multiverses. All rights go to the respective owners. (Title from Immortals by Fall Out Boy)
"Go get him." She had accepted it. Peggy understood what he had to do, and why he had to do it. Steve knew she hated it, heck, he hated it, but it was the only way.
Then he was on the plane, watching their tear-stained faces fade into the distance. But he wasn't alone. Even without looking down, he knew Lyra was waiting patiently at his side for him to make a move.
Lyra wasn't an ordinary dog. She made no sound, as if she were mute, but he could understand her as if she was speaking directly into his mind. And she wasn't there from the beginning, either. Steve categorised the events in his life as either before, or after. She came into his life after the serum, but he still felt like he knew her from before. Like she held as much of a part in his life as Bucky did.
She was there for every step, racing ahead of him while they chased down their first enemy, sitting by his side as they posed for endless photographs, marching into battle at his left heel, leading the way through the Hydra base he saved the soldiers from. She was braver than he was, sometimes, though he could never be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. What was even stranger was the fact that she only let Steve touch her. She was his and only his. As if she wasn't just a part of his life, she was a part of him.
So, as he fought his final battle on the Hydra jet, and planned a date with Peggy that both of them knew was never going to happen, he was comforted to know that Lyra too would be right by his side until the end.
The last thing he remembered was the jarring cold, taking control of his body, solidifying around him, forming an icy prison from which there was no escape. He pressed his hand to the fur on her back, its soft texture providing him with a phantom feeling of heat. He closed his eyes, and as he was focusing on holding tight to the whispers of warmth, the ice consumed him.
70 years later…
"Wake up."
"Wake up."
"Steeeeeve."
He felt something batting at his face. He tried pushing it away, but to no avail. He groaned and rolled over in an attempt to dislodge whatever was sitting on his torso. He heard a thump as something hit the floor and immediately winced in second-hand pain. Weird. Either way, the peace only lasted a few seconds before-
"Come on Steve-y, wake up!"
It was slimy, slobbery and wet and disgusting. And it was in his ear. He jerked awake, eyes wide open, staring up at the slowly revolving fan on the ceiling.
He somehow remembered that voice, though he didn't think he had heard it before. "Lyra?" His voice sounded croaky and felt dry, as if he hadn't spoken for a while.
"Finally!"
"What do you mean?" he asked, clearing his throat as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Are you speaking? How can I hear you?"
"I'm not sure - I think it's just in our mind. Can you help me? I need help."
The first thing he saw was a familiar golden retriever, a piece of fabric clenched between her jaws. Chuckling to himself, he reached down and she obligingly dropped it into his outstretched hand. It was a miniature flag, the stars and stripes had long since yellowed with dirt and age, but he recognised it as the one that Bucky had given him as a joke when he became Captain America. Folding it into a roughly triangular shape, he tied it around Lyra's neck, adjusting it so it sat in the usual way.
"Thank you!"
"No problem," he murmured, before sitting up straight, taking in his surroundings. Beside the bed was a bedside table, and a window looking down to the street below. Under the window was a small radiator, and in the corner sat a dresser and mirror. It looked like a recovery room - the sort they sent injured soldiers to after having them in hospitals. But there was something slightly odd about the situation, he just couldn't quite put a finger on it. He let his eyes wander back to the dog in front of him. "Lyra, does something seem, I don't know…"
"Off?"
"Yeah… have you noticed anything?"
"The radio."
Cautiously, he looked back over to the dresser, upon which sat a perfectly ordinary looking radio. It sounded like it was on a sport channel, except the game was…
"…May '41. We were there, Steve."
"It can't be."
"But it is."
There was a knock at the door, and a woman walked in. She wasn't Peggy, despite wearing a similar uniform. It looked more like a costume than it should have - the fabric didn't look like it was as stiff as it was supposed to be, and her tie was tied with the wrong knot - but he didn't want to be impolite, so he refrained from mentioning it.
"Good morning," she smiled. "Or should I say afternoon?" Her voice was soft and kind.
"Where am I?" He was curious, but also wary of the fact that he might have been kidnapped by Hydra following the plane crash. It did seem a bit of a far-fetched theory, but it definitely wasn't unimaginable.
"You're in a recovery room in New York City." Now that sounded suspicious. He looked to Lyra for confirmation.
"Sorry Steve, I can't get a read on her." She shook her head at him. He let out a deep breath and turned back to the woman.
"Where am I really?"
She let out a small laugh. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
As he explained that the game was from May 1941, he saw panic overtaking her previously neutral expression. He stood up.
"Now I am going to ask you again." He took a step towards her. "Where am I?"
"Captain Rogers-"
"Who are you?" There was a pause, and two armed men walked through the door. Steve grabbed them both and hurled them at the wall, breaking a hole in it before jumping through and out a wide, empty hall. He was definitely not in a hospital. The woman was already attempting to follow him, yelling into a radio, with more men behind her.
"Steve, we need a way out of here!"
"I'm working on it," he replied, crashing through the first set of doors he saw. This was a mistake, he realised, as about twenty people rushed at him. Lyra had already bounded ahead, and he sprinted after her, pushing bodies out of the way as they made a beeline for the building's exit.
It was as if they had stepped from Kansas into The Land of Oz.
Steve didn't have the words to describe what he saw. At the very least, it was futuristic. Vehicles that could have been cars flashed past him, and bright lights glared down at him from every angle. Some things he recognised from Howard's workshop; prototypes that had seemed so far-fetched that they would never be fully developed. Everything was shiny, and bright, and new, and loud. And underneath it all, he could still recognise New York.
The streets were still bustling with people from all walks of life, none of them remotely interested in the incredible new world that lay around them. They all wore strange styles of clothing, and many of them had their gazes fixated on small rectangles that produced light. He didn't have a clue as to what they were. Looking up, the high-rise buildings seemed even higher, stretching up so far that his neck hurt from holding his head at an angle. Based on the vague familiarity of the layout and shapes of the buildings, and the boisterous signage plastered over every structure, he might have once been in Times Square, but now he was completely lost.
He heard more of the strange cars pulling up behind him and began to panic slightly as armed men and women - agents, probably - started advancing towards him. Lyra tensed up, growling as she started to pace forwards.
"Lyra, please, stay behind me."
"Fine." She turned around.
"Thank you."
"I have to say, Captain, you have incredible control over that dog of yours." Steve whirled around. A man stood behind him, dressed in black, a matching patch over his left eye. The man strolled towards him.
"Who are you?"
"I am Colonel Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. You would've known us as the Strategic Scientific Reserve."
"Peggy worked with them! Maybe they can help?" Steve glanced down at Lyra, taking in the pleading expression in her deep, chocolate brown eyes, before turning back to the Colonel. The man's eye was also brown, but a hardened shade, and stared at him with the practised gaze of someone who was used to being in charge.
"Where am I?" he ventured.
"You're in Times Square Captain." It wasn't the answer he was expecting. Granted, he hadn't ever spent much time in that area, but it looked so strange, and different.
"If this is Times Square, then where have we been?" It was a good question. Another that he didn't have an answer for. The Colonel did. 70 years was a long time. He hoped that Peggy was still around. He could then at least make the proper apologies for missing their date.
"So, what happens now sir?"
"Well, they say we are what we are, soldier. And with what's coming, we may need Captain America on the frontlines once again."
A/N: Wow, it's been a while. I started writing this chapter in October 2020, and it's taken me a year and a half to finish. So I'm sorry guys. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I won't make any promises about the next one, but I will try to write it within the next month? Two months? Something like that. My little pronunciation guide thingy probably isn't necessary here, but I'll put it anyway. Also I have been to New York once in my life, and I know that he's not actually in Times Square, but to me it seemed like a reasonable place to put him. If anyone has a problem with it, I do know that it's not the right place, but it was an active decision I made, and this is fanfiction. See you on the next one?
Steve Rogers - Lyra [Golden Retriever] (Pronounced LIE-rah)
