7. H.G. Wells Had Nothing

Hey Buck.

Didn't think I'd get to write this. Didn't think a lot of things would happen. Almost thought I'd finally hit the end of the line myself. But I made it. We made it, and that's the most important thing.

A lot of people got hurt; some probably killed, no matter how hard we tried to avoid casualties. But this was the first salvo in a war, and if there's one thing about the present that's not any different from the past, it's that wars have casualties. There's always a human cost. I remember when I was touring with the USO, being amazed at the financial cost of war, and thinking that maybe they only framed the cost of war in human life to distract us from the financial aspect of it all. But after fighting with the Commandos, after fighting Hydra, and now after all of this… the financial cost is nothing compared to the loss of life, especially when that life is collateral damage: people who were innocent and had no stake in the war in the first place.

I don't know what it's going to take to clean up New York. I don't know what it's going to take to make my mind comprehend the things I saw. I may have to settle for just accepting that it happened and I saw it. Trying to explain things, in a way that I'll come to terms with, just may not happen.

Remember reading War of the Worlds? For weeks afterward I would watch the skies, wondering what was out there. There was no way we could be alone in the universe. If we were, how did people like H.G. Wells come up with these ideas? You used to make fun of me and I lost countless bets to you, and we finally stopped talking about it when you made me promise never to take the book out of library again. I kept my promise, but I never forgot that lingering doubt.

If you were here with me right now you'd owe me all my money back. And I'd probably tack on the interest as well, just to remind you that I was right.

But it's a bittersweet thing, being right about something like this. Now that we know we're not alone, and that the beings out there aren't all peaceful, there's this uneasiness of wondering what's next. I'm also happy to report that I was wrong about something. Tony. I was so convinced that he only fought for himself, and that he didn't care about the outcome, but when push came to shove, it was Tony who was willing to take the fight to the Chitauri on his own to save the rest of us.

He took a warhead missile (those are a thing now-warfare has certainly changed) right into the portal and detonated it on the Chitauri home base. I was certain he was gone; he disappeared into the sky and our comms only had radio silence. And then suddenly he was falling. Falling and not stopping, and only when the Hulk managed to catch him did I let my breath out. And then another moment of fearing the worst when he wouldn't come to.

Bucky, the only thing that could make me more relieved to be wrong is if you suddenly showed up in front of me, alive and well.

I fought my own war of the worlds that day in New York. I survived, and so did my team. I may even be able to start calling them my friends after this. HG Wells had nothing on what I just experienced. What is it they say? Truth is stranger than fiction? I never really thought about it until I started living it.

There's cleanup to do and damages to assess. Thor needs to escort Loki back to Asgard. And we all need to try shawarma, apparently, whatever that is. I hope it's better than all the boiled food we used to eat back in the day. It was Tony's suggestion. Apparently near-death makes you realize what you need to do in life once given a second chance.

I don't know what I'll do after this; warfare has changed so much since my (our) time. I'm not sure I could join the army, assuming Washington considers me ever having left. I suppose I could join the USO again; I'm sure the country's changed a lot since I last toured. But then I think of all I've done and seen and I know I can't stand on the sidelines anymore.

I don't want to think about it for now. For now, I just want to go eat some shawarma with my friends.

Wish you were coming with us,

Steve