Excuse Me, I Don't Suppose You Know How To Time Travel?
Chapter Six
Oh, Well Help Me, Brother, For I Have Lost My Mind
The room was still, peaceful in a way which the battlefields of Europe could never be. Sounds began to wash over him as began to wake; a radio host describing a baseball game, and the sound of car horns below.
He pulled himself out of the bed, staring at the bright room around him, aghast at his surroundings; at the absence of chilling water and his still beating heart. How was he still alive?
'Where's Peggy," he wondered briefly, as he stared around the room, which had no sign of the woman, not even the smell of the soap which she used to clean her clothes. He was alone, his only company the radio and the furniture which was dotted about the room.
'Where was he?'
"Reiser heads to third," the radio spluttered suddenly, causing Steve to carefully turn, staring.
"Here comes the relay, but things look steady," the radio continued, ignorant of the turmoil in Steve's mind: his memories supplying the words before the radio could say them.
The door opened, and a woman stepped in, her brown hair covering her shoulders and a friendly smile on her face.
"Good morning, or," she said, looking at her watch, "I should say afternoon."
Steve glanced again at the radio, which had continued to sprout familiar words, before returning to the woman.
"Where am I?"
"You're in a recovery room, in New York City."
The nurse smiled at him, Steve's eyes flicking over her, doubt filling him. Her brown hair lay upon her shoulders, where it should have been up. The tie, which was far too wide to be a woman's. He turned his eyes back to the radio, which had continued to sprout familiar words.
"Where am I really?"
The woman smiled at him, a flicker of nerves crossing her face, "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"The game, it's from May 1941. I know cause I was there."
The woman's eyes widened, Steve standing and taking a step towards her.
"Now, I'm going to ask you again. Where am I?"
"Captain Rogers-"
"Who are you?"
The door swung open again, two men dressed in dark clothes stepping through it. Blood pounding beginning to pound in his ears, Steve picked them up by their collars, throwing them towards the wall. Jumping through it, he glanced around, staring briefly at the large room, ignoring the woman's panicked voice behind him as he began to run.
His feet pounded beneath him as he passed through the streets, yellow cabs around him, and the sound of car horns chasing him. The colours around him grew brighter as he ran, eventually coming to a stop, struck by a sense of familiarity, but more so, the strangeness of all that was around him.
As he paused, drawing in a breath, black cars pulled in around him, but he barely noticed, staring at instead at his surroundings. He was surrounded by bright lights, the loud noises, and the people who were straining to stare at him behind the implemented barriers, some of the women dressed in little more than undergarments, while others were dressed in clothes as equally as strange.
"At ease soldier," a voice called, revealing a darkly dressed man with a patch over his eye. He approached, not casting a glance at the people who crowded around them. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it was best to break it to you slowly."
"Break what?"
His heart was beginning to beat in his chest, in turn with the loud noises around them.
"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years."
Steve turned again, staring again at the world around him, understanding beginning to form in his stomach. These streets were familiar because he had walked them before, ran them when chasing Erskine's killer. He and Bucky had played throughout them as children, chasing adventures, unaware of what the future would hold for both of them.
Unbidden, Bucky's words from all those years ago circled through his mind.
"Where are we going?"
"The future."
The future. All the brighter and real than any exposition Howard ever could have made.
For the first time since he had woken, he allowed his thoughts to drift to the child which had only just begun to grow. When he had plunged into the ice, Steve had given up any hope that he would ever know his and Peggy's child, to be able to be a parent. But now...
"Are you going to be alright?"
"It's just... Peggy- our baby," Steve stammered. "How are they?"
The man's face shifted, falling for a second. As Fury's face returned to its previous aloof state, Steve's stomach began to tighten.
"Son, I think we should talk about this elsewhere."
His fist crashed into the punching bag, the sound of guns firing through his head. Bucky's hand slipping, and the resounding screaming that echoed through the gorge. Erskine's finger, jabbing into his heart as he his breaths began to shorten.
Peggy, her face determined, but a smile beginning to overcome it, a hand grasped on her stomach.
"Trouble sleeping?"
At the sound of Fury's voice, Steve didn't turn to greet him, instead throwing his hand into the punching bag. His punches began to gain momentum, the bag bursting, flying through the air, sand spilling across the floor. The only noise became the sound of his breathing, as he stared at the sand which was scattered across the floor. Finally, he turned, replacing the bag with another one.
"I've slept for seventy years, sir. I think I've had my fill."
"Rogers, your son, Harry, went missing in the May of ninety-fourty-six. He was never found."
The words which Fury had said to him a few weeks before repeated through his head, as his hand collided with the bag, the bandages beginning to rub the scabs underneath. He took another punch, ignoring the pain, focusing only on the rhythm.
Undeterred, Fury continued. "You should be out, seeing the world."
Steve stopped, turning away from Fury as he began to unwind his bandages, allowing his breaths to calm. Fury had been absent from his life since he had told him what had happened to Harry, instead, he had been left with doctors, who both wanted to run tests on him and talk about his emotions, and SHIELD agents dressed in suits, who watched him warily, as if they thought he was about to fall apart like the ice he crashed into.
"When I went under, we were at war. When I woke up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost."
Fury was silent, the only sound the bandages being unwrapped and the ghosts of all those that had been left behind.
"When you're punching those bags, Cap, whose face is it that you are imaging? HYDRA agents, or whoever took your boy?"
Steve turned, staring briefly at the director, before the punching bag on the ground. He didn't offer Fury a reply, casting the man a warning glance as he finished unwrapping the bandages, briefly wincing as they pulled at the scabs.
"What if we had something more productive to put that energy towards?" Fury continued.
Steve turned his gaze back to Fury, overtaken by an emotion he couldn't identify; somewhere between horror and relief. The world had changed much in the seventy years he had been asleep, in ways which were both good and bad. But if it still needed Captain America, perhaps it hadn't changed as much as he had thought.
"Trying to get me back in the world?"
"Captain, we're trying to save it," Fury replied, offering him a file.
There had been a familiarity to fighting alongside the Avengers, despite the aliens pouring from the sky and the powers and abilities which had been near absent from the battlefield of the ninety-fourties. It was far too easy to lose himself in his actions; fighting a madman who was hell-bent on world domination. It was far easy to imagine the Avengers the teammates he had left behind in a different time. He had his shield back, and a team besides him, fighting to save the world from evil.
"Captain America, a man out of time," Loki had smirked, upon their first meeting.
"Do you really think that you will ever be able to find a place in this century?" Loki had crowed, ignoring Romanoff's words. "I know what's it's like, Captain, to be an outsider. To want a real family. To wonder what it would be like if it hadn't been snatched from you.
"I imagine it must have been rather difficult for you, waking up in a new century, discovering all that you had loved was gone. Actually, I don't need to imagine it, Captain," Loki's eyes stared at him intently. "I know what it's like to discover that everything you loved is gone, or, in my case, untrue. Your son, Harry, I believe his name was. A tragic loss-, so young, even by your human standards.
"I could send you back, Captain," he declared, his sceptre coming closer to Steve's heart, which had begun to beat louder. "You could live a life, you could save your son. All you have to do is-"
He would never know what he needed to do, his shield already blocking the sceptre as he swung it towards Loki's face.
After they had defeated Loki, he and the Avengers went their separate ways, SHIELD finally decreeing he was capable of living on his own feet. Though his apartment in Brooklyn was overpriced, it was also his home, and it had a large window, from which he could watch the streets outside. Though the lights were all the brighter, and it was far more busy than it had once been - people brasher now, with fewer clothes and far, far louder, the streets were still the same.
The Avengers weren't the team he had left behind, but that didn't mean that they couldn't do good. For the first time since he had woken in this new century, he reached towards the files from SHIELD, allowing himself to flick through the pages of the Commandoes, Gabe Jones - deceased, Dum Dum Dugan - deceased, James Barnes - deceased, Howard Stark - deceased, before finally reaching the page labelled Margaret 'Peggy' Carter-Rogers - alive.
"You're late."
Two weeks had passed since the battle against Loki, over a month since he had first woken when Steve finally found himself in the same room as the woman he had loved, and who he had left behind years before. Now, his eyes could barely leave her; undoubtedly older, but as beautiful as ever; her eyes still alight with the same fire which he had fallen for.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't call my ride."
At his response, Peggy smiled at him - the same smile she had given the first time he had said it - laughing softly, which he soon began to join her in. Finally, she reached towards her bedside, using a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. Steve leaned forward, embracing her hand with his own.
"Oh, we were so in love, weren't we, Steve?" Peggy's smile beginning to fade, looking at their grasping hands, her eyes glistening. "We could have had everything."
"Well, I always said I just needed to find the right partner," Steve joked, his eyes remaining on Peggy, in wonder, despite the way her own moved towards the photographs by her bedside. As Peggy's mouth opened though, the elation he had felt upon seeing her again began to fade, replaced by the reminder of what stood between them. Or rather, what didn't.
"You would have loved him, Steve. You would have loved Harry."
Steve's eyes flicked to the photographs on Peggy's bedside; a curly-haired infant surrounded by the Howling Commandos, in the arms of a straight-faced Colonel Phillips, a photograph of him and a blonde woman, and two photos of Harry and Peggy. One had clearly been taken soon after his birth, a crying bundle held tightly in Peggy's arms, while the second was of Harry leaning against Peggy, both mother and son staring at the camera with identical, albeit on one-half toothless, smiles. The last one was a photo of their son alone. It was the photo that could be found in most books, and had been the only one given to Steve after waking: a photo taken only a few days before Harry had gone missing, which had been plastered across every newspaper in the country, along with the title 'KIDNAPPED'.
In the other photographs, the resemblance to Peggy was overbearing, but with his eyebrows drawn, clutching a star patterned blanket, the resemblance to Captain America was undeniable.
Returning his eyes to Peggy, Steve smiled, "Of course I would have, Peg. Half of him came from you, it would have been impossible not to.
"I'm so sorry, Peggy. For not being there. I could have found another way, I shouldn't have..." Steve trailed off, his emotion a turmoil within him, one which he was unable to explain.
Peggy's eyes moved back to the photographs, meeting Steve's eye in the reflections of the glass. "I could always see so much of you in him, Steve. From the moment he was born, he was a fighter. I know he wouldn't have blamed you. You have nothing to be sorry for. You defeated HYDRA. You saved the world."
"I don't think I can give myself all the credit," Steve smiled, meeting Peggy's eyes. "What you did, it was incredible. Knowing that you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay with it."
He allowed the smile to drop from his face, Peggy's hand squeezing his own. When he returned his eyes to her, she offered him a watery smile but didn't speak.
"For as long as I can remember, I always just wanted to do what was right. I guess I'm just not sure what that is anymore. And I thought I could throw myself back in, and follow orders. Serve. It's just not the same."
"The world has changed, Steve. And none of us can go back, sometimes-," Peggy descended into a coughing fit, Steve tightening his grip on her hand. When she opened her eyes again, she stared at Steve, wonderous, whispering, "Steve?"
Steve began to reply, before Peggy's hands grasped his shirt, pulling him closer.
"Steve," she said, even as he began to deflate, despair beginning to form. "Steve! Our baby- Harry, he's alive, he's alive, he found me, but they took him again, they took my baby- they took our baby Steve."
She descended into sobs, her frail body shaking. Steve reached forward, beginning to embrace her shoulders before she jerked away from, staring at him with the same brown eyes.
"He's alive," she repeated, reaching towards her bedside table, pulling a small object from the draw and pushing it into Steve's hands. "You have to believe me, Steve. He came back to me. He was still a baby and he was my baby and they stole him. They stole him from me, Steve!"
"Peg..." Steve began, before the door burst open, nurses flooding through.
"No, my baby," Peggy cried again as one of the nurses stopped at her shoulder, pushing her gently back to bed. A hand landed on Steve's shoulder, and he turned to face another nurse, sympathy upon her face.
"I think it's best if you leave, Captain Rogers."
As Steve was ushered out the door, the sound of Peggy's cries continued behind him. Once the door had finally slammed closed, his final view of Peggy being as she continued to fight against the nurses, as his thoughts turned instead to his own childhood.
There had been an elderly woman who lived near him and his Ma, and who would often look after him when Ma was working. One day, she had begun to call him Jacob, and he had begun to spend his days with Bucky and his mother instead.
"Thank you," he remembered Ma saying to Bucky's mother, "The poor old dame - as kind as anything, but she is getting on, and with Steve's health... She lost her only son in the Great War, the poor thing, I just don't want to risk anything."
A few months after that, his ma had found her lying in her apartment, blue, the wind pulling snow through her open window.
As the memories of the past faded, he stopped, looking at the small, plastic soldier which Peggy had forced into his hand.
The tiny plastic figure remained in his pocket throughout the next few days, becoming a familiar comfort as his newly found world began to collapse. The discovery that the nurse who lived across from him was in fact assigned by SHIELD, hardly seemed noteworthy. Instead, he berated himself for noticing it before. She had reminded him of someone, and after the training that SHIELD put the agents through in which many came out with the same mannerisms, it was a question which had been answered. It was with him when Nick Fury was declared dead, and later, when he had met Alexander Pierce.
"You see, I took a seat on the council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to," Pierce had told him, "We were both realists, who knew that sometimes the best path forward meant not fixing what was already broken, but tearing it down, and starting anew."
Pierce's grim smile had faded from his face as he turned to face him, "Captain, you were the last one to see Nick alive, and I don't think that was an accident. And I don't think you do either. So I'm going to ask again, why was he there?"
Steve stared at him, unblinking, silent before he answered, "He told me not to trust anyone."
Pierce met his stare with an equally still one, before beginning to chuckle quietly, facing the window. Steve tensed as Pierce turned again to face him.
"You know what Captain, you remind me of someone," he said, observing him with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, I can really, really see it. Did it ever occur to you he might have also been talking about himself?"
"That's all he told me. Excuse me," Steve replied, fastening his shield to his back as he began to walk from the room. Pierce's eyes pierced his back as he left, and he turned to face the man when he began to talk again.
"Captain, someone murdered my friend," Pierce declared. "And I'm going to find out why. Anyone who gets in the way is going to regret it. Anyone."
Steve glanced at the other man, before nodding.
"Understood."
The plastic soldier was with him when his life shattered yet again, completely.
"Bucky?"
Though only a second ago the street had been filled with the sounds of the fight between Steve and the Winter Soldier, now the only sound was the beat of his heart, as his best friend's face stared at him, completely blank.
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
The gun in the Winter Soldier's hand seemed barely noteworthy as Steve stared at the man, instead noticed at the rise and fall of the man's chest, as he was pushed to the ground, and a gun pushed against his chest, the only words which echoed through his head were 'Who the hell is Bucky." Images flashed through his head - Bucky's final yell as he fell backwards, his hand outstretched in midair. That same hand had tried to put a knife through his heart.
"It was him, he looked right at me, and it was like he didn't even know me," he said as he stared at the ground of the van, his mind already seeking the answer to the question before Sam could ask it. Tonelessly, he replied, "Zola."
"None of that was your fault, Steve," Natasha stated.
"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky," he replied, the familiar "I'll be with you to the end of the line," ringing in his ears. He had always believed that that would be true, that Bucky would be at his side from their childhood alleys, to when he would be named godfather of his and Peggy's child. Unconsciously, he shifted and felt the plastic soldier from Peggy shift against his leg. He clamped his eyes closed as Sam began speaking again, a suspicion beginning to form in his mind.
When electricity began to spark in the truck, he remained uncaring, his stomach beginning to tighten as the armed man near him crumbled onto the van floor. He barely noticed Sam and Romanoff's shock when the guard removed their helmet, revealing the familiar face of Agent Hill underneath. His thoughts were instead of the child whose photos decorated Peggy's room, and whose face had haunted his dreams since he had woken.
The discovery that Fury had survived barely seemed noteworthy after the few previous days. His survival was starkly overshadowed by the truth about the organisation he had presided over, and Bucky, who Steve had failed nearly seventy years ago. And Peggy and their son, Harry, who he had undoubtedly failed when he had crashed the plane into the water believing that his sacrifice would stop HYDRA, and that his son would be able to have a normal childhood.
Instead, Harry hadn't even gotten a childhood.
The carrier began to fall, the ground beneath him tilting as he struggled closer to where his friend lay. Bucky's face looked at him, fearful, as he struggled beneath the beam. Steve collapsed to the floor, his arms straining as he lifted metal, dropping it once Bucky was free. The man cast him another fearful stare.
"You know me," Steve began, before the other man stood, anger upon his face.
"No I don't," Bucky yelled, charging him.
"Bucky, you've known me your whole life," Steve panted, a hand against his bleeding stomach. The Soldier roared, throwing his metal fist into his face, causing Steve to fall backwards.
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," Steve began again, ignoring the man's scream of anger. Steve stood, pulling the helmet from his face, "I'm not going to fight you, Buck. You're my friend."
This time, the man paused, staring at his face.
"We grew up together Buck, in Brooklyn. You were going to be the godfather of me and Peggy's child " Steve continued, "We named him after you. Harry. Harry James."
The Soldier stood, continuing to stare at him, shaking. Steve continued, "I'm with you 'till the end of the line, pal."
The man trembled, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the onslaught of memories. The last thing Steve saw before the glass gave out beneath him was the realisation which covered the Winter Soldier's face, Bucky's eyes snapped towards him in shock and grief as Steve began to fall.
"Yo, Cap. You've got a visitor," Sam told him, stepping aside to reveal the familiar face of the agent SHIELD had assigned to watch him.
"Neighbour," the blonde woman greeted him, her hands grasped on the satchel she carried.
"Neighbour," he replied, offering her a weak smile as she stepped into the room.
Sam left muttering about coffee, leaving the SHIELD agent to sit in the chair he had vacated. Seconds passed, both the Agent and he remaining silent, their attention instead focused on the trivial. Steve cast a look at her - still dressed in her SHIELD uniform, blood splattered across the blue fabric.
"I am sorry, for not telling you the truth," the blond broke the silence, a guilty expression upon her face.
Steve shook his head, amusement in his voice as he replied, "You were hardly the worst shock to come out of the last few days."
She hesitated, sympathy in her eyes before she pulled a sketchbook from her satchel.
"I heard you used to like drawing," she told him, placing the sketchbook and charcoal on his bedside table. "I figured you could use something to entertain you while you're recovering."
Steve grasped the sketchbook, flicking through the stark white pages. With the serum, it wouldn't be long until he could move again, but already his fingers itched towards the charcoal.
"I haven't had much of a chance to draw lately," he told her, truthfully. "You didn't need to, but I appreciate it. Truly."
"It's the least I can do. I think I owe you a few Christmas presents anyway," she told him, hesitating again. "Aunt Peggy, she used to have some of your work hanging in her house. They were good, I always used to admire them when visiting. They were all destroyed a while ago, but I'm sure she'd appreciate some more."
Steve froze, staring at the woman, understanding blooming in his chest as he froze, before beginning to smile again, wonderous. He had wondered why he had seemed familiar, but now, with her brown eyes looking at him - different shape, but the same unmistakable, warm colour, he wondered why it had taken him so long to realise.
"She must be proud of you, following in her footsteps."
"She might be, my parents aren't. My dad didn't have good experiences with war," she smiled at him, her teeth showing. "I'll just have to tell them I'm working with my uncle, Captain America."
Soon afterwards she left, leaving her phone number on his bedside as she walked out the door.
"You have a family, Captain," she had told as she had left. "You might not know us, but we have all grown up with tales of our Uncle Steve from Peggy. You're more than welcome to join us for dinner. My dad, he would love to meet you. He always mourned that he didn't get the chance. And I'm sure the kids would love to meet Captain America."
He glanced at the paper and charcoal she had left behind, smiling wistfully before shaking his head, Peggy's cries being to fill his mind, her sobs as she begged for Harry. The plastic soldier sat in his pocket, and Bucky's empty eyes stared at him.
I'm with you to the end of the line.
Title from the Strumbella's Did I Die?'.
I'm sorry that this is such a filler chapter, but I promise that the next one will have more substance. I can guarantee that, because I have finished most of it already. Which means it should, hopefully, be up soon. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this. Please review!