Steve thought it was a nightmare. To find himself back in his old body, barely able to walk without wheezing, and with a war raging that he was helpless to do his part in - it shouldn't be possible. He didn't even have Bucky - he was Over There. It mustn't be possible. Gradually, what was left of the idealism he'd had as a kid the first time around turned to cynicism. He'd gotten a job in a factory to do what he could for the war effort, and kept it when the war was over, but he kept seeing other men being promoted over his head, the men who'd gone and fought and come back. Whether they remained more able-bodied than he was seemed to make no difference. He tried not to be bitter. He told himself that he had fought, even if they didn't know it. But Bucky was dead, everyone he had ever really connected with was dead, or he'd be dead before they were even born.