It was shockingly how fast the world resumed. Trains ran, planes flew, and people went back to work and school and wherever else they usually went. The bankers went straight back to arguing in their high-rise buildings and thousand-dollar suits, and the politicians went straight back to panicking about the economy and the defence force and every other thing that was now totally messed up.
They called the Avengers, of course, and they all had to endure a gruelling 27-hour debrief as they tried to explain what was going on. Eventually, Fury bailed them out, with the promise that Cap would return the stones immediately after Tony's funeral tomorrow, and that the Avengers would jump right into training new recruits and building up a new SHIELD so that they would be better prepared against the next great threat.
And so it was that on the Eve of Tony's funeral, Steve was watching half a dozen youngsters running laps around a makeshift training field with 10 kg packs on their shoulders. He stood to one side of the field, leaning across the metal barrier as the recruits did their twenty 400m laps.
"Pick up the pace, Forster!" Steve yelled at the straggler passing his position, who was a half a lap behind the others. He'd only been training this guy for two days, but he could already see that he was a slacker.
Forster merely glared at him and continued jogging.
"Watch your attitude, or it'll be an extra ten laps for you!" Steve shouted. He was a military man and knew from experience that he had to get this kid in line, or else the recruit would fail his first assessment and they'd lose him for good.
"With all due respect, Captain, you're not the punishing type." Forster retorted, hardly out of breath at all. Definitely not putting in the effort. Why did the kid even sign up?
Steve sighed. This had happened before, so many times. It was almost as though the Snap never happened - nothing had changed.
"You're right," he shouted back. "It's not my style. It's her-"
Steve felt as though an icy fist had grabbed his heart and twisted it sharply. There was no one standing next to him. No one to leap across in two strides and slam the arrogant kid into the ground. No one to hold him in a deadlock, to make him toe the line for at least a month.
Steve's grief must have shown on his face, because Forster's eyes widened with understanding and he quickly doubled his pace and ran off, catching up with the others.
Steve turned away from the field and surreptitiously wiped a tear from his cheek. No, he thought, everything had changed.
"I miss you Nat," he whispered.