Tea Conversations

Tony was still talking. Bruce was quiet, however.

Steve was aware of that much as his mind wondered back to conversations that he hasn't thought about in a few months.

Conversations that he thought were dreams as he slept, but now he had to view those conversations in a new light in the face that Tony also presumably saw someone who went by the name of Master of Death during his near death experiences.

Probably more people than Tony judging by his rather blunt question to Bruce when they walked in. Natasha and Clint, too, probably saw him as well – in their line of work, they probably had quite a few near death experiences.

And it had to be a near death experience for someone to see someone called the Master of Death.

Though Steve knew he had another name. They had plenty of conversations and he had learned the man's real name – and Steve knew he was a man and not someone otherworldly like Thor and Loki and the Chitauri - during one of them.

It was such a sad day too, now that Steve thought about it, that he had learned the name of the so-called Master of Death.

With a start, Steve realized he probably knew a lot more about this so-called Master of Death than any of the others. After all, he had hundreds of conversations with him.

How much would he have to explain to the others though? His conversations were private and the fact that they might have to discuss his conversations in detail was rather unsettling to him.

One conversation in particular came to mind and invaded his thoughts. It was almost like he was there again.

Steve woke up with a gasp.

He was cold. He was always cold these days no matter how warmly he dressed. It was almost how he was pre-serum, though he had no logical reason for it.

He got up out of bed and looked around his bedroom with a frown. This was exactly the kind of bedroom, in exactly the same kind of house, he and Bucky had each always dreamed of owning before Bucky went to war, before the serum, before everything.

Signs of Peggy Carter's influence were all over the bedroom and the house as well. Well, of course it was, with her being his wife.

As Steve walked out of the bedroom and around the house, as always, something seemed off to him. Even though this place was his and Peggy's house, though Peggy was off somewhere at the moment, it still didn't feel like it was his house. Almost like he didn't belong here. And it was always so cold.

There was a knock at the door. He went to answer it.

"Hello."

It was his British neighbor that Peggy always said made her feel as if she had never left England and made the States more bearable. Steve had never caught his name, even though they have been neighbors for a few years.

"Hello," Steve returned. "How can I help you?"

His neighbor smiled and asked, "I was wondering if I could ask you over to my house for a cuppa?"

Steve felt his eyebrows raise unintentionally. He was never invited to his neighbor's house for tea without Peggy and even then he always declined, even though Peggy always accepted.

"Peggy's not here right now," Steve felt the need to point out.

His neighbor smiled and said, "I know. I've just had a rough couple of days at the hospital and was wondering if you could do an old man a favor and spend some time with him."

"You're not old," pointed out Steve again. That was twice in almost twenty seconds that Steve felt the need to point something out to his neighbor. His neighbor, who also happened to be a doctor he suddenly remembered.

His neighbor quirked his lip as if he was indulging in a private joke and replied, "I'm older than I look Mr. Rogers."

Steve doubted it. His neighbor looked like he could be no older than thirty and that was being generous.

His neighbor continued before Steve could contradict him, "What do you say, Mr. Rogers? Tea?"

Steve nodded his head and said, "Give me a few moments to leave a note for Peggy and I will be right over. Number twelve, right?"

"Yes. I'll see you in a few minutes, Mr. Rogers."

"Steve."

The man's lip quirked for a moment, as if he was indulging in another private joke, before he said, "You can call me, Harry, then."

Steve started all of a sudden, though he didn't understand why or why he felt an echo of a whispered statement in the now named Harry's voice saying, "People call me the Master of Death here, Mr. Rogers."

Harry frowned.

"Are you all right?"

Steve took a moment to gather himself before he said, "Yes, yes. Just give me a moment to write that note and then I'll be over."

Harry frowned at him for a moment before he said, "All right, Steve. I'll see you in a few."

With an incline of his head, Harry turned and started to walk to his house.

Steve shut the door, pausing to gather himself for a moment, before he went to the kitchen to leave a note for Peggy.

He put on his shoes and debated about putting a heavier sweater on as he was still cold before deciding against it. It wouldn't help anyway. It never did.

He walked over to Harry's house and knocked on the door.

"It's open!" came the shout.

Steve tentatively opened the door and instantly he felt warmth, though it was more than a physical warmth. Harry's home gave him a warm feeling, like his home with his ma always had, and Steve wondered why he had always declined tea if this was the feeling of home Peggy always claimed to be feeling when she came back home from tea with the neighbor.

"I'm in the kitchen, just follow my voice," Harry shouted again.

Steve did as asked and followed his voice.

"Hello," said Steve, sounding slightly formal once he got to the kitchen.

Harry looked up from what he was doing and grinned.

"Hello. Sit, sit while I finish making the tea."

"Can I help?" asked Steve even as he pulled out a chair to sit down. Peggy never let him help her make tea either, something about American hands spoiling a delicate brew.

Harry smiled and said, "Thank you, but no."

Steve grinned and said, "Peggy never lets me help either."

Harry laughed and said, "I can imagine."

There was silence as Harry finished preparing the tea.

"How do you take your tea?"

Steve told him and Harry handed him his cup of tea as requested.

Harry took a seat at the table with his own tea.

There was silence as each man sipped his tea.

Steve didn't know what to say. He was never good at conversations.

Harry, however, seemed to have something to say so Steve sat patiently and waited.

"I'm sorry."

Steve looked up from his cup. "I'm sorry?"

Steve had no idea what Harry was apologizing for though there was another whisper in his mind, again in Harry's voice, that said, "I'm sorry. You've made your choice. There's nothing I can do. You'll have to wait a long time."

"-eve. Steve, can you hear me?"

"What?" Steve felt like he was in a fog.

He was cold again. So, so cold. How was he not frozen? How could he be this cold and still function? How is he not a human Popsicle?

"-eve!"

Steve had a sudden flash of memory of being in his kitchen with Peggy laughing over his attempt to bake, to a flash of memory of flying a plane and telling her he didn't know how to dance, to just cold, nothing but cold and a blinding darkness.

"-ght I got the spell right!"

What? Spell?

"-can fix it!"

Fix what?

Cold.

Darkness.

Cold.

Darkness.

Cold, cold, cold.

Steve woke up with a gasp. He was lying in his bed. He frowned. Wasn't he somewhere else? Tea with Peggy?

No, it was tea with a neighbor. Harley? Harold?

No. It was Harry...Harry something.

Steve looked over to the other side of his bed, but he was alone. He frowned more. Wasn't he married to Peggy? He looked around his room. There were no signs that anyone else lived with him in his room and, Steve suspected, in the entire house. It was just him.

What a dream.

"I'm sorry."

Steve looked around the room at that whisper, but no one was there.

Steve shivered. He was still cold.

"Steve!"

Steve looked up and noticed Tony standing close to him, his hand hovering over his arm as if he had just shook Steve to get his attention.

He mentally gathered himself before turning his attention back to Tony.

"What?"