Chapter 2

For what felt like an eternity, Steve floated on a soft bed of warmth. A gentle breeze billowed through his hair and reduced the dimples on his skin. His fingers touched yet couldn't feel the gentle cotton enveloping them. His eyes darted back and forth behind their lids.

Memoria battered him hard. It flooded him with insights and flashbacks. Being paralyzed and unable to wake, he endured the onslaught. A strobe effect of rapidly flickering lights of all colors and intensities stirred long overlooked things he didn't readily remember….and maybe he wished he hadn't….

The Old Neighborhood: Steve saw himself as a boy back in Brooklyn's Depression-Era streets again. Bullies' intimidation and fists rocked his path. Jack Frost's pitiless chill pushed through the drafts in a tenement wall causing him to bunch a few worn blankets about himself. A few bland meals of boiled chicken and soup left no taste in his mouth while they filled his stomach. The polio epidemic crippled a few of the neighborhood kids. His father, still dealing with the mustard gas' aftereffects from the Great War, succumbed to its malice. His mother followed him shortly thereafter.

World War II: Steve saw his fight with Bucky at the fair's recruiting station once more. The Vita Rays' searing embrace burned through him once more. He held his shield to deflect the 107th's hail of tomatoes. Then came the missions. Duty never relented in pushing him forward over and over again. Hydra's disintegrating cobalt beams danced about him. Bullets rained off of his shield. The Red Skull, Baron Zemo, Baron Blood and even some crazed Chinese warlord named the Yellow Claw stood in the Allies' path to victory. Never once did they back down. Then again neither did Steve for that matter.

Modern Day: Steve felt the overwhelming sight of Time Square circa 2011 anew. In the flashback, his eyes went wide. He felt disoriented once more; his interwar views doggie paddling to stay above the future's churning currents. Peggy lay like a withered flower before Age's wear. He confronted Bucky…no, the Winter Soldier…again. He led a group of heroes seemingly out of the science fiction novels he'd read at the library on unbelievable missions again. Then he heard bagpipes and "Amazing Grace". He saw flowers framing Peggy's military portrait again. Even if they couldn't feel anything, his fingers touched cool metal handles and polished oak as he bore his lost love toward her final rest.

His eyes narrowed. His mouth tightened. I can do this all day!

"Yeah I'm sure you can. You are one blockheaded son of a gun. You know that?" a familiar voice chided.

His nose twitched. His nostrils detected a strong scent of Haverfelt's cigarettes. He knew of one person who had smoked that brand.

And with that, a bright white flash swept across his line of sight….

[Somewhere Else]

Steve struggled to open his eyes. He blinked in his surroundings. His fingers relaxed from the sheets' cool kiss upon them. His head sank into a soft pillow. "What the Hell?"

"You're something else. You know that, Rogers?" the voice supposed with a grating tone.

His eyes narrowed. He pulled his arms from the covers and overhead. He flexed them. He wiggled his fingers. He moved his legs under the sheets. His back and chest didn't ache. He breathed in deeply. He sat up with some effort. "Colonel?"

"Took you long enough," Colonel Philips cracked. As during the war, he maintained a calm façade over his emotions. His mouth remained straightly neutral. His eyes sparked at his former subordinate. "You do go on in there."

Steve shrugged. "I didn't choose to do it. Last thing I remember was being on that rock fighting a battle against this hulking alien." He started to pull back his sheets to get out of bed.

Philips admired the other's fortitude. While it had taken him a while to accept the former-sickly and scrawny man in front of himself, Steve's fire and strength in the face of adversity had won him over. The final sacrifice in the Valkyrie had just been the frosting on a long-baked cake as far as he'd been concerned. "This is a perfectly great time for you to be in that bed."

"I'm fine, Colonel. I have to stop that creep," Steve insisted. He forced himself from the bed. His feet gingerly set themselves on the floor. He considered his white t-shirt and loose sweatpants. Then he looked about the empty white space around them. "Where are we? Where's my costume?"

Philips coughed. He shook his head. "It's not here if that's what you mean. You're done, Rogers. You've done your duty down there. You've got other things to deal with. Barnes and those buddies of yours—the Avengers, right? They're going to have to deal with it now."

"But it's Earth's fight! I have to…." Steve pressed.

"Yeah I get it." Philips put the cigarette back in his mouth. With a puff, he made its end glow bright orange and red. "Rogers, you need to learn that you're not the only one. I hate being up here too. I did my bit for Uncle Sam and the world. So did you. So did Stark and that metal suit of his."

Steve hesitated. As much as Tony grated on his nerves sometimes, he only wanted the best for his teammate. Much as he had with Howard, he admired the younger Stark's genius. He'd wanted to help Tony with his feelings for his father. "He didn't make it?"

"Sorry, Kid. That big creep took Stark's best shots. Then he pulled Stark to the ground and pummeled him. Like you, he's done. His father's lecturing him right now," Philips clarified. "That kid couldn't take Big Daddy Howard's making him tough. I guess I don't need to tell you that."

"No. I think I've seen enough of that." Steve felt the walls surrounding them. His palms slid over the white surfaces searching for some hidden latch or knob.

"And you don't take no for an answer. It ain't there, Rogers." Philips tapped his finger on the armrest. "Denial's so pointless. Just admit it."

"Got the fight. Have to deal with it." Steve turned toward the other man. He recalled some of the Sunday school stories where demons and spirits would assume a familiar form. From that face and voice, such a figure would be able to sway an unsuspecting person. "Who are you really? Philips wouldn't tell me to run away from a fight."

"I did once. Remember that Hydra base in Austria? Lighten up, Rogers. I'm trying to help you. You're dead. Love the talking raccoon by the way. I knew Erskine's experimenting wouldn't stop with him. Still you have to let the walking hairball and its buddies deal with things now. It promised," Philips told him frankly. "Barnes has your stuff now. The shield will be something else. He's Captain America now."

"If I'm dead then why am I walking around?" Steve pushed back in disbelief.

"Because we're here. We're in our version of what the big blonde guy was talking to you about," Philips insisted. "If you were down on Earth, you'd be crippled at best and a vegetable at worst. For some reason, Erksine's formula couldn't heal your injuries. Don't ask me to explain why or how. That science mumbo jumbo makes my head hurt. Schmitt's energy thing can override what's in your system somehow. The choice has been made. You're staying here until you can accept it."

"Accept what? Not being able to fight?" Steve pushed.

Philips shook his head. "No. You need to figure out how to live. You just saw all of the bad stuff in your thoughts. There are good ones too. Besides can you live without a fight?"

"I have been doing that since I came out of the ice," Steve insisted.

Philips conceded a nod. "Yeah you've done better. Still there's more you could have done. You've lived more than just a struggle. Just think on it." With that he turned and walked through the wall.

"HEY!" Steve rushed over to where the Colonel had stood. He felt the other's exit point for the door. Finding nothing that would open, he pounded on the spot with his fists in frustration.

Still nothing gave.

"What does he mean by learn to live? I'm a good person. I live the best I can," Steve protested to the whiteness surrounding him. "What else is there? WHAT?"

For a long minute and then two, no response came to his frazzled mind.

Then Drowsiness pressed down on him. His eyes blinked. Suddenly his arms felt heavy. He just managed to stifle an uncharacteristically big yawn. "Now what?" He rubbed his forehead while collecting himself. Somehow he staggered back to the bed and collapsed into it.

Before he could pull the covers over himself, he fell fast asleep again.

And so the journey started anew…..